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books, caregivers, Emma, Fiction, health, Jane Austen, medicine and literature, novels
Dr. Cheryl Kinney is a gynecologist in Dallas, Texas, and she has given lectures in the United States, Canada, and England on women’s health in the novels of Jane Austen and other eighteenth and nineteenth century British authors. I’m looking forward to hearing her speak at the Jane Austen Society (UK) conference here in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in June of 2017. (You can find out more about that conference on the JAS website; John Mullan, Peter Sabor, Sheila Kindred, and I are the other speakers.)
Cheryl has also lectured extensively to various groups on issues relating to gynecology including menopause, sexual dysfunction, endometriosis, and pelvic surgery. She received her M.D. from Indiana University, and she serves on the National Advisory Board for the Laura W. Bush Institute of Women’s Health and the Executive Dean’s Advisory Board for the College of Arts and Sciences at Indiana University. She’s been listed in “Best Doctors in America” since 2001, she’s been named by the Consumers’ Research Council as one of “America’s Top Obstetricians and Gynecologists” every year since 2002, and for the past ten years, she’s been named a “Texas Super Doctor” by her peers. She served on the national board of the Jane Austen Society of North America from 2010 to 2015, and she’s secretary of the board of the Jane Bozart Foundation.
When I hosted a party for Mansfield Park a couple of years ago, she wrote about “Why Tom Bertram is right that Dr. Grant will ‘soon pop off.’” I’m delighted to welcome her back to my blog to celebrate Emma. For her contribution to Emma in the Snow, Cheryl has sent this guest post on Mr. Woodhouse, along with a photo of Texas in winter.
Photo by Wallis Kinney
Mr. Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to the subject again, by the recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of “Well, my dears, how does your book go on? Have you got any thing fresh?”
“Yes, papa, we have something to read you, something quite fresh. A piece of paper was found on the table this morning—(dropt, we suppose, by a fairy)—containing a very pretty charade, and we have just copied it in.”
She read it to him, just as he liked to have any thing read, slowly and distinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every part as she proceeded—and he was very much pleased, and, as she had foreseen, especially struck with the complimentary conclusion.
“Aye, that’s very just, indeed, that’s very properly said. Very true. ‘Woman, lovely woman.’ It is such a pretty charade, my dear, that I can easily guess what fairy brought it. Nobody could have written so prettily, but you, Emma.”
Emma only nodded, and smiled. After a little thinking, and a very tender sigh, he added—
“Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother was so clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I can remember nothing.”
(Volume 1, Chapter 9, from the Cambridge edition of Emma [2005], edited by Richard Cronin and Dorothy McMillan)
Average human life expectancy at the time of the birth of Jesus was thirty-two years. By the time Jane Austen was writing Emma it was forty-one years. Growing old was not a reasonable expectation for most of the population then. That Jane Austen was aware of this actuality is evidenced by the number of parentless young people in her novels. Modern scientific advances have profoundly altered our lifespan by mitigating the dangers of childbirth, disease, and injury, resulting in a current life expectancy of approximately eighty years. But all of this medical progress has left us vulnerable to the physical and cognitive declines that accompany old age and to the challenges aging presents. In Emma, Jane Austen reveals her remarkable insight into this aspect of human existence with her depiction of Mr. Woodhouse.
Although we are not provided with Mr. Woodhouse’s exact age, he is described by the author as a “kind-hearted, polite old man” (Volume 2, Chapter 16). Yet we soon notice that he is not old in the manner of the hard-of-hearing, blind without her glasses old Mrs. Bates. Mr. Woodhouse has memory lapses, repeats himself, is unable to understand a joke, is unequal to his conversation partners, has to have his business affairs explained to him, and becomes anxious about going out or being left alone. If presented to a doctor today, Mr. Woodhouse would almost certainly be diagnosed with some degree of cognitive impairment.
In order that Mr. Woodhouse will be endeared to readers, Jane Austen constructs his limitations to leave other parts of his personality unblemished—his courtesy, his politeness, his paternal love and devotion. Recent research has shown that memory loss much more profound than Mr. Woodhouse exhibits may leave intact other notable human traits. Doctors have just reached this conclusion within the last decade. Jane Austen obviously understood it 200 years ago.
Despite Mr. Woodhouse’s good qualities, there is little question that we are supposed to understand how difficult it would be to live with him. Mrs. Weston wonders at the end of the novel who besides Mr. Knightley might ever have wanted to marry Emma if a condition for doing so was to move in with Mr. Woodhouse. When Emma accepts Mr. Knightley, she is filled with joyful gratitude and relief. She reveals how acutely aware of her father’s mental and physical decline she is when she considers that Mr. Knightley will be “such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!” (Volume 3, Chapter 15) To the 29% of us who provide unpaid caregiving to a relative or friend, no explanation of Emma’s expression is necessary.
For Jane Austen a character’s response to the plight of others often defines their morality. Throughout the novel Emma shelters and soothes her father, entertains him, arranges his social engagements, compensates for his misjudgments and eccentricities, and protects him (with assistance from the author) from becoming an object of pity or ridicule. There are so many instances of Emma manipulating the “environment” for the comfort of her father and they are arranged so cleverly in the story that we barely notice them as claims on Emma.
Other characters in the novel are measured morally by whether they are able to follow Emma’s lead—Frank Churchill obviously is not. Mr. Knightley clearly does. With the relentless demands on Emma, her patience and assiduities are truly remarkable and in this light her imaginings may be better understood as a coping mechanism for her day-to-day stresses. Usually in a Jane Austen novel, the heroine becomes a heroine when she learns from her mistakes, but in this novel we come to understand that it is Emma’s virtuous heart that makes her a heroine, not her recovery from some minor social blunders.
Today, studies show that for most elderly patients a loss of independence is more dreaded than a diagnosis of cancer. In Emma, Jane Austen illustrates how in the pre-modern world a “kind-hearted, polite old man” is allowed to live life as he wants and she shows us the manner in which his dutiful, loving daughter makes it possible. In doing so Jane Austen presents an awareness that though infirmity comes to all, there are lessons to be learned as your loved ones experience such afflictions. The ultimate focus should be a good life for those we love and care for … all the way to the end. A lesson Emma has clearly already mastered.
Cheryl also sent me her daughter Wallis’s photo of bluebonnets, not because they’re in bloom in February, but because they’re the state flower of Texas.
Excellent authors on this aspect of the novel:
Adams, Carol. “Jane Austen’s Guide To Alzheimer’s.” NY Times Op-Ed (12/19/2015).
Basting, Anne Davis. Forget Memory. Johns Hopkins University Press (2009).
Folsom, Marcia McClintock. Approaches to Teaching Austen’s Emma. MLA (2004).
Lane, Maggie. Growing Old With Jane Austen. Hale (2014).
Selwyn, David. Jane Austen and Leisure. The Hambledon Press (1999).
Weinsheimer, Joel C. “In Praise of Mr. Woodhouse: Duty and Desire in Emma.” ARIEL: A Review of International English Literature 6.1 (1975).
Fourteenth in a series of blog posts celebrating 200 years of Jane Austen’s Emma. To read more about all the posts in the series, visit Emma in the Snow. Coming soon: guest posts by George Justice, Gillian Dow, and Margaret Horwitz.
Subscribe by email or follow the blog so you don’t miss these fabulous contributions to the celebrations! And/or follow along by connecting with me on Facebook, Pinterest, or Twitter (@Sarah_Emsley).
Sarah Emsley 
Thanks so much for this post. I especially value insights from professionals who are fellow JA fans on aspects of the life Jane was writing about, especially the medical side of things, from a modern perspective.
I also thought your comments about Emma’s manner of handling her father’s difficultes were insightful about the way in which Austen uses individual choice and its inner sources (in Emma, Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley, and “Poor Miss Taylor,” in contrast to Frank Churchill, for example) to delineate her attitude about character.
From both a literary and medical perspective, I found your essay thought-provoking and enjoyable.
Sorry I can’t be at the conference in Nova Scotia to hear you speak: please write again in this forum, and thanks, too, for the helpful bibliography!
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Thank you for your comments. You are so right about Miss Bates and “poor Miss Taylor” – Jane Austen’s construction of moral fiber is brilliant.
So sorry you will not be able to attend the Nova Scotia conference. I would love to know your thoughts on Jane Fairfax’s illness.
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Jane Fairfax’s illness? Now I must know! What illness? Have I missed something that everyone else knows about? (Wouldn’t be the first time, nor, I suspect, the last).
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Jane Fairfax? “Dr. Onoosh” (that’s like saying “Dr. Mom”) diagnoses her with psychosomatic complaints stemming from stress, poor thing! (Mrs. Jennings would have pressed some good wine on her, with much hand patting…) And I don’t see things getting permanently better for her after the honeymoon with dear Frank, either, despite Emma’s conclusion that Jane’s problems would be over with the marriage.
Then there’s that hint I think I remember from JA herself (please don’t ask me to rummage through her letters to find the refence! Have mercy on those senior moments I share with Mr. Woodhouse!) that Jane won’t be long for this world after the end of the book: my guess would be for either childbirth or pulmonary tuberculosis as the culprit. If the latter, perhaps we see its very faint beginnings in “Emma.”
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Ah,,, I have always read those hints as more things Jane SAID she suffered from in order to not have to participate in something, or to go to the post office secretly, or in some other way to participate in her clandestine meetings/letter-writings with Frank Churchill. Never for a moment did I think she was really ill. Obviously, I haven’t read this book enough times yet!
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You could be right! I think most of JF’s problems stemmed from stress, as Emma — although not, of course, using that term — surmises…still, there are hints. Maybe someone else has the reference from JA which intimates that poor Jane Fairfax wasn’t long for the world. Or (as we sometimes say here in the South) “I may be disrememberin’!”
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Oh, I think you’re probably right – it was my misreading rather than your misremebering, hahaha. Another thought that creeps into my mind is that Frank Churchill absolutely may have hastened his aunt’s death, and may, indeed, hasten Jane’s, once she becomes “inconvenient”. I have often wondered what would happen to that marriage after old Mrs. Bates dies and Miss Bates probably comes to live with them…
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Interesting thought: while JA is explicit about the disposition of various members of the Bennett clan after Eliza marries Pemberley…excuse me, Mr. Darcy…and we are fairly sure that Mrs. Bennet’s awe of her son-in-law limits her silliness, while Darcy’s character and impeccable manners will prevent him from behaving like, for example, Mr. Palmer ( who is “…so droll, he is always out of sorts!”), Frank Churchill seems much less trustworthy.
Again: poor Jane Fairfax! What happens when Frank ceases (to borrow words from the insincere Mrs. Elton) to “…quite doat on her?” Are we to see a foreshadowing of her future in Mrs. Churchill’s past?
All speculation, of course, and outside Austen’s story: still, a good example of how she creates, not just a book, but a little world, for her readers!
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“According to a less well-known tradition, the delicate Jane Fairfax lived only another nine or ten years after her marriage to Frank Churchill.”
Le Faye, Deirdre, Jane Austen: A Family Record (2004), p. 241
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That’s it! Deirdre Le Faye! THAT’S where I got the idea about Jane Fairfax’ demise.
Thanks for the reference, Monica: now I don’t have to subside, confused, into an armchair.
And let me add that I am really enjoying this thread of conversation: lots of insights and ideas. All we need is tea! 😸
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Hmmm – the published letters make no mention of this. I know that Deirdre Le Faye had access to unpublished family papers, so she may be in on a secret the rest of us aren’t privy to. However, I can’t help but wonder where the thought came from… At any rate, obviously, Jane may very well have been ill, not feigning illness to get out of unpleasant events. I do think she was “delicate”, which may very well have been due to childhood illnesses about to rear their ugly heads again.
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Hard to say: but given the statistics about female illness and mortality in Austen’s time, any scenario that involves the demise of Jane Faifax, especially as a married woman, could be possible. (The statistics also throw some added light on the real hardiness of Mrs. Bennet!)
I can’t imagine that the stresses of being married to Frank will decrease the pressure of Jane Fairfax Churchill’s “delicate nature” as her very dissimilar moral and ethical sense rubs up against his. And since we know at least a little more today about the interaction of stress and physical illness, my laywoman’s guess would be that Jane might have more troubled times ahead, affluence (and the deceased Mrs. Churchill’s reset jewels) notwithstanding. I also think it’s possible that JA might have meant to at least imply the possibility.
Frank as self-effacing caregiver, like Emma or Mrs. Weston? Maybe, with a change in attitude: and JA’s characters are certainly capable of learning and change…but he might be off to Weymouth again, too, leaving a hired nurse in charge.
(Sidebar: Isn’t it interesting that we talk about Austen’s characters as if they were real, and OUR neighbors?)
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What? They’re not real???? Hee hee.
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“Average human life expectancy at the time of the birth of Jesus was thirty-two years. By the time Jane Austen was writing Emma it was forty-one years. Growing old was not a reasonable expectation for most of the population then.”
I always think that this sort of statistic is somewhat misleading if not put in context. The average is lower because many more people died young, not that people did not live as long as we do.
Many draw the conclusion that people did not live to an old age in 1815, but the real message is that there were relatively fewer of them not that they didn’t exist and everyone died young.
People who did survive all the perils of early 19th century life, such as childhood diseases, childbirth (for women), contagious diseases, accidents and injuries leading to infections and diet related cardiovascular disease would have lived almost as long as we do nowadays and would have developed many of the same ailments of old age as we see with Mr Woodhouse and Mrs Bates.
Given that caveat, I agree that Emma’s love and caring for her father is well written and shows her essential good nature. The similar good nature of their village society is also shown by the care that people take of Mrs and Miss Bates’ needs.
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Thank you for your comments. You are correct about statistics and context.
The average life expectancy in certain parts of London during the early Victorian era was 17 years – absolutely horrific. Exactly as you say, though, some people did live as long as we do but there were so many who died of disease and injuries in infancy, childhood and adolescences that it skews the numbers. For women in particular, if they could make it passed plague, smallpox, TB and childbirth they had a chance of longevity. Unfortunately many did not.
I really like the way your phrased your third paragraph – it gives clarity to the point I was trying to make. May I “steal” it for my next presentation?
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By all means. Talent copies but genius steals!
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Wonderful insights. Thank you, Cheryl, for this perspective.
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Thank you Marsha. As a doctor, the novel is my personal favorite!
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Thank you so much for a thoughtful and thought-provoking post.
“Having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of mind or body, he [Mr Woodhouse] was a much older man in ways than in years.” He’s always been “slow,” maybe because of lack of mental exercise, and now age has made matters worse. Talking of his late wife, who died relatively young, however, he regrets not having her memory – he doesn’t say, as many elderly people would: “If only I could remember things as I used to.” At least Mrs Bates knits! 🙂
Excellent point about the loss of independence – so very true! Yet I wonder whether Mr Woodhouse cares much about that – he seems intent on doing less than he could … But then again he’s “nervous” and “easily depressed.” Isabella, who takes after him, has “many fears and many nerves,” but leads an active, fulfilling, and happy life, so perhaps some form of depression is at the root of it all.
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Thank you for illuminating Mr. Woodhouse’s description of his memory – elderly patients today would phrase their memory loss differently. Good point.
And you are correct….Mr. Woodhouse does seem very content “without activity of mind or body”. I just love how Jane Austen can impart so much meaning into a phrase.
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As one of the “29 percent,” I was very touched by your piece (and that of Carol Adams). Thank you for highlighting this aspect of the book! It seems to me that throughout her novels, Jane Austen is very focused on “right living” in the sense of respect and concern for one’s fellows; this emphasis on quiet ethics is what I most love about her work (after the snark, perhaps!). Usually those quiet ethics are most seen in female characters, but in Emma we get to see a male character who embodies this virtue.
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Carol Adams’ work on the subject of caregiving in the novels of Jane Austen is fascinating. Carol, having been a caregiver herself, writes from the most human perspective. Very touching.
Are you a Mrs. Jennings’ fan? Jane Austen, I think, showed us her own idea of true womenliness with Mrs. Jennings during Marianne’s illness.
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Yes, I am a fan of Mrs. Jennings! For all her annoying ways, she is unpretentious and cares about all the things that really matter. Anyone who is useful in a pinch earns points with me. It would be interesting to do a study of characters like hers and Sophy Croft’s in the novels (as well as the Harvilles, Mrs. Smith, etc.)–people who are not high-class enough for some, but have sterling characters. I think Austen had a real affection for salt-of-the-earth people, “not brought up too high,” as Lady Catherine De Bourgh would say.
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Cheryl, thanks for this post! I think Austen is so brilliant to foreground Emma’s faults in a way that disguises from her and us the virtues she also gives her. This patience with and devotion to her father is one of her best points, but Austen seems to be waiting for the really perceptive reader to realize that — you have to be her friend, like Mr. Knightley, to be alert to her strengths. This article also highlights the importance of this great marriage to Emma’s future. The author really does imagine the dreadful difficulties of coping with Mr. Woodhouse’s eventual decline and death in a way most commentators ignore. Mr. Knightley is the least snarky and most helpful of all the Austen heroes. But you already know I think that.
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I cannot help favoring Mr. Knightley over all other Austen heroes.
xoxo
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Oh, I love this whole topic! I realize now, finally, why I like Emma as a character so much. It is her patient kindness when dealing with her father. I hadn’t thought too much before as to just what was the matter with Mr. Woodhouse (other than a general anxiety), but I think you must be right. I’ve never thought of him as terribly old, and therefore, expect that Emma and Mr. Knightly will reside in Hartfield for a good long time. That Mr. Knightly acquiesces to this arrangement has long led me to know his very good character. All in all, a very satisfying essay. Thank you!
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John Knightley, an educated man, a life long neighbor, and a son in law, can barely tolerate Mr. Woodhouse’s eccentricities. Jane Austen brilliantly allows us to compare John’s behavior with that of his brother, Mr. George Knightley, so that we may understand why Emma and Mr. Knightley are so well suited.
And you are so correct – Mr. Knightley deserves the highest marks for moving to Hartfield at the end of the novel. Could you imagine what Darcy’s response would have been if confronted with this situation?
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I believe Austen said Mr Woodhouse only lived two or three years after Emma married Mr Knightley
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Ah – I knew that in several of the JAFF stories I’ve read they usually did that, but wasn’t sure that JA had decreed it to be so. Lots to look out for when I do my re-read.
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I was not aware of that Jane Austen had given a 2-3 year timeframe for Mr. Woodhouse. Thanks Bobbie! I obviously need to re-read the letters.
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A wonderful post, and the deep insight of the comment on the importance in Jane Austen’s writing of how characters respond to the plight of others is something I will not forget, and use in reading the other novels, also –Sense and Sensibility immediately comes to mind, with Col. Brandon’s ‘is your sister ill?’ and Mrs. Jennings offering lovesick Marianne the fine old wine. I am still a little hesitant to accept Mr. Woodhouse’s cognitive impairment being something progressive (‘his talents could never have recommended him at any time’) but Emma and Mr. Knightley do surely operate together to support him in a wonderful tactful way, and Frank Churchill is someone who can only treat people well when they interest him –his callousness about the aunt who adores him has always troubled me. Thank you for this immensely thought-provoking, and genuinely humane, post.
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Colonel Brandon and Mrs. Jennings are both excellent examples. At the end of the novel Elinor comes to “really love” Mrs. Jennings because of her attentiveness to and concern for both of the Dashwood sisters during Marianne’s illness.
As your quote (‘his talents could never have recommended him at any time’) illustrates, Jane Austen leaves us in no doubt that Mr. Woodhouse was not “the sharpest tool in the shed” (as my grandfather would say) in the very first chapter of the novel. In formulating a presentation for the 2007 AGM in Vancouver I was re-reading the novel and was struck by Emma’s canvasing of her behavior at Box Hill. To what does she compare how bad she is feeling about her injurious remarks and behavior? “A whole evening of backgammon with her father was felicity to it.” Her correlation provides the reader with an inkling of what Emma must go through each and every day with Mr. Woodhouse. As a doctor, my thoughts turned to the conditions that might evoke that strong of a sentiment in a family member/caregiver. Progressive neuologic illnesses topped the list. The strongest suggestion of the progressive nature of Mr. Woodhouse’s condition is Emma’s reaction to her engagement to Mr. Knightley – “such a companion for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!” Emma, I think, knows what is coming and I love her all the more for it.
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A lovely piece, Cheryl. With a son currently on antibiotics for a childhood illness that is now easily treated, but was once dangerous, I have a renewed sense of what those life-expectancy figures really meant. I’m always struck by how long Austen’s near contemporary women writers lived too – Frances Burney, Maria Edgeworth… And the former after a mastectomy.
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This is not polite to write/say/think but…. when I consider how long the rest of Jane Austen’s siblings lived (even her brother who was disadvantaged) it always leaves me with such a pang of regret.
And you are so right about Fanny Burney – holy cow! Surviving a mastectomy (without anesthesia) was breaching miraculous.
Hope your son is well soon. Poor little thing! (Whoops. Now I sound like Mr. Woodhouse)
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Hah! Like you, I hardly feel polite on the topic of longevity in the Austen family. And I’ve consulted Perry about my son. Wholesome air and some kind of tincture should see him right as rain.
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Sea bathing! 😸
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Wonderful analysis, Dr. Kinney. I have recently experienced having to assist my father in entering a nursing home. At age 97 this was very hard for him as up to the time of his heart disease diagnosis and limited prognosis, he had been living independently, driving, keeping home, garden and finances in good order and for several years nursing my invalid mother till her death. He now has a minor cognitive impairment along with some physical challenges. He has borne the changes better than I have. This is why I am reading Emma again, and I am amazed at the depth of Jane Austen’s understanding of being the main carer and companion for an aged parent, and her analysis of the habits of the elderly. Emma, that once meant to me a light, romantic comic mystery novel has now become my educator and solace. I also have to recommend another novel, by a self-confessed Austen fan, (Kate Atkinson) which also deals with the aging of a parent, but he has a daughter most unlike Emma: “A God in Ruins”
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Your father is an example to us all. He sounds gracious and good. God bless him and you during this part of the journey. As Carol Adams points out in her excellent New York Times Op-Ed, Emma will help you through it all.
“Where shall we see a better daughter, a kinder sister, or a truer friend?”
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I’m enjoying this discussion immensely — thank you all for coming over for tea, and thank you, Cheryl, for writing this engaging post. I agree with Onoosh, I hope you’ll write for the blog again. Your perspective on these medical questions always helps me see the novels in a new light.
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Wow, what a wonderful article, and amazing conversation! I confess that ‘Emma’ has long been my least favorite Austen work. This conversation has given me new insights into the novel, new ways of looking at it. Thank you, everyone, for your comments and ideas.
However, I prefer to keep an optimistic (if perhaps misguided) view of Jane Fairfax’ future – I prefer to think of her as balancing and tempering Frank’s idiocy with her sanity, and to imagine they had a long and happy marriage, with several well and gently educated children! Just sayin’!
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