Here’s a piece I recently wrote for Austen Authors. But in case you missed it there, here’s another chance!
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Every Jane Austen novel reminds us of the severe limitations placed on females of genteel birth in her era. Their only honorable option was to become some gentleman’s wife. Although the men seem to have drawn a far better lot in general, their options were also restricted by social convention. If a young gentleman needed an occupation, he could go into the church, the military, the law, or perhaps banking. Those were the standard choices.
“But,” you say, “I thought the mark of a gentleman was having no profession.”
Well, not exactly.
Unless he was fortunate enough to marry an heiress, a younger son absolutely needed a profession. He had to find a way to earn his living, since he might inherit very little. Think of Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was the younger son of a nobleman, and yet he still felt constrained. In Pride and Prejudice, he tells Lizzy, “Younger sons cannot marry where they like.” I described his predicament this way in The Darcys of Pemberley:
As the younger son of an Earl, he could not marry where he chose. Since he would not inherit his father’s estate and yet was expected to uphold the style of living his family enjoyed, he was obliged to establish his own fortune by some other means. The colonel showed no inclination for banking or politics, and an inconvenient state of peace had broken out before he could amass any great sum by distinguished service in the army. His best remaining chance for even a modest fortune seemed to be to acquire one by marriage. This was the course of action strongly recommended to him by some of his relations. As the colonel’s father often reminded him, many a rich merchant would be willing to pay handsomely to have his daughter married to the son of an Earl.
The eldest son would, of course, inherit the family estate when his father died, giving him some occupation thereafter. But what was he to do meanwhile? Too much free time got more than one heir presumptive into trouble. Thomas Bertram (Mansfield Park) gambled his father’s money away while waiting to come into his property. And Edward Ferrars, in hindsight, recognized that his foolish involvement with Lucy Steele sprang from his idleness.
“It has been, and is, and probably will always be a heavy misfortune to me that I have had no necessary business to engage me, no profession to give me employment or afford me any thing like independence … I always preferred the church, as I still do. But that was not smart enough for my family. They recommended the army. That was a great deal too smart for me. The law was allowed to be genteel enough; many young men who had chambers in the Temple, made a very good appearance in the first circles, and drove about town in very knowing gigs.” (Edward Ferrars, Sense and Sensibility)
Better give that boy something to do! Joining the clergy was acceptable, but not stylish. A military life held more prestige, but also more danger (Napoleon, and all). So, perhaps the law? Fine, but then he must be a swanky London barrister, and not (heaven forbid!) a humble country attorney like Lizzy’s uncle Phillips in Pride and Prejudice, who was considered one of her “low connections.”
To become a lawyer didn’t involve the years of intense study and rigorous exams you might imagine. One had to first acquire a standard degree (from Oxford, Cambridge, or Trinity), which hardly required breaking a sweat, before moving on to “study” at one of London’s Inns of Court (Temple, as mentioned by Edward, for example). There his progress was measured according to how often he dined on the premises (I’m not kidding) rather than by successfully completing courses. What a student actually learned during his “terms” was largely left up to him. If he paid attention in court and read the recommended books, he might come away with some level of competency to go along with his certificate. If not …?
Although I’m no expert, from what I’ve read, the haphazard education of lawyers seems only a symptom of a much larger malaise afflicting the legal system that existed at the time. Defendants had few rights, and juries where notoriously unpredictable – as likely as not to completely disregard logic and judges instructions in order to side with the barrister who put on the most entertaining show in court. Jo Walker (heroine of my second novel: For Myself Alone), after her first encounter with the legal system, says this to her friend, a young gentleman pursuing the law as a profession:
“It seems the law has only a nodding acquaintance with justice and an even more tenuous association with common sense. I find it sadly disillusioning. Are you certain you can be happy pursuing a career as a barrister, Mr. Ramsey?”
“The law is a flawed institution, I grant you. Still, I believe reform is coming, and perhaps I shall be able to do my part. At any rate, it is an honorable profession and genteel enough to suit my mother. Of course, she does not intend that I should ever make a living at it. I can, though, if I am obliged to, and that gives me hope for the future.”
You see, Mr. Ramsey is in the same boat as Edward Ferrars. He is the eldest son and natural heir, and yet his widowed mother has the power to disinherit him in favor of a younger brother, should he marry out of her will. Thus, the necessity of acquiring a genteel profession.
So, which will it be? The church, the military, or the law? If you were a young gentleman in that time and place, which would you choose? Or would you put all your dependence on marrying well?
Personally, I’m glad we have more options now, especially since most of us don’t have a rich relation or spouse to provide us an independent fortune.