Surely no contest, I hear you exclaim. How can there be any comparison between Mrs March, the saintly mother of Meg, Beth, Jo and Amy in Little Women and Mrs Bennet, the vulgar mother of the Bennet girls in Pride and Prejudice?
They have more in common than you might think. They both worry about their daughters’ futures and want them to make good marriages, even if they have different ideas about what makes a marriage a good one.
Cents and sensibilities
Marmee March doesn’t put money at the top of her wish-list for her girls’ husbands, and declares that it’s better to be a happy old maid than an unhappy wife. Better to be a poor man’s wife than a queen on a throne, she says, if you don’t have self-respect. Way to go, Marmee. Right-on thinking with a bit of a country music vibe – we salute you.
Mrs Bennet, who doesn’t even have a given name in the book, does not, of course, embrace the idea of contented poverty quite so heroically, and a man’s income is her first and, indeed, only criterion.
They both have plans for their daughters. We are encouraged to mock Mrs Bennet’s strategies in pursuit of her aim, when for example she manoeuvres Jane’s stay at Bingley’s house.
Stealing a March
Marmee’s daughters ask her about her plans for them when Meg overhears a woman at a party suggesting that Mrs March is playing her cards right to get Meg advantageously married. Marmee’s a bit sniffy about that and says people who talk in such a way are ill-bred and full of vulgar ideas. Oh dear. That’s a lot of us.
Both mothers are stalwart supporters of their daughters. Marmee, who is blessed with intelligence and insight, recognises the strengths and weaknesses of each of her brood, and guides them according to their individual needs.
Mrs Bennet, not so well-endowed in the brains’ department, has little insight and no capacity for good judgement or reflection, but is fierce in her defence of her daughters. She takes against Darcy and Bingley because they don’t recognise Lizzie’s and Jane’s qualities.
She stands up for Lydia and Kitty when they are called ‘silly’ – well they are, actually, more than silly, but isn’t it nice to see a mother who understands what it’s like to be young and hormonally-driven?
She remembers clearly her own good times with handsome soldiers, a rather poignant allusion to her carefree youth and faded beauty.
The fury queen
Each mother has a ‘burden’, a cross to bear something which weighs heavily upon her. With Marmee, the more complex character by far, it’s her anger, which she has had to learn to suppress.
She tells Jo she is angry nearly every day of her life but has learnt not to show it. This passage is the most surprising and thought-provoking one in the book.
We don’t know what sparks her anger, and can only guess at what might make the calm and controlled Mrs March burn with inner fury.
It could be frustration at the narrowness of her existence, the smallness of the field in which she can express her energy and ability, the limited scope of her ability to make a difference. Maybe the domestic scene in which she excels isn’t enough for her.
Pride and prejudices
With Mrs Bennet, the burden is her husband. She is married to a man who has no respect for her and whose only pleasure in the marriage comes from being amused by her ‘ignorance and folly’. Nice, eh?
He married her because he fancied her rotten and didn’t know or care that she wasn’t the sharpest quill pen in the box. Mrs Bennet is unfortunate in having a clever husband who has been a poor provider for the future of their family, who constantly mocks her failings and inadequacies, and who forms an alliance with her smart daughter (Lizzie, we love you, but aren’t you a tad daddy-orientated, at least at first?).
Good wives’ tales
Mr March, on the other hand, is an admirable husband and father. Actually, it’s quite easy to be perfect when for most of the story you’re away voluntarily serving as a chaplain in the Civil War, and it may be that some of Marmee’s anger is directed at him, or rather his absence.
But he’s wise, thoughtful, loving and philosophical. The scene where Mr March returns from the war is a tearjerker rivalled only by the father’s appearance in The Railway Children. It’s Christmas Day, and their friend Laurie pops his head round the door with suppressed excitement and says “Here’s another Christmas present for the March family.”
Their surprise, confusion and joy is movingly described, culminating in ailing little Beth finding the strength to run into her father’s arms. That’s what you miss, Mr Bennet, when you’re a bit too distant and sarky.
Marmee dearest
Marmee is a powerful model for a life based on principles of duty, faith and hard work. She is compassionate and highly principled and yes, she does preach, but she puts her money where her mouth is in her work for the war effort, for the poor and the underprivileged.
She is unconventional and forward-looking in her ideas, showing her daughters the importance of education and independence.
What’s cooking, Mrs B?
Mrs Bennet really doesn’t get a look-in. But funnily enough, one of Austen’s most superbly cutting lines about her is the one which makes her quite endearing. ‘The business of her life was to get her daughters married: its solace was visiting and news.’
Like that’s a bad thing? She puts her energy into arranging secure futures for her daughters, and she enjoys socialising, chatting, swapping stories and gossip.
Hey, call me shallow (Jane Austen surely would) but I’d quite like to spend an evening enjoying Mrs Bennet’s delicious cooking (we are told she ‘always kept a very good table’) and shooting the breeze about total trivia. Just now and again, you understand.
