“I am going to take a heroine whom no one but myself will much like,” Jane Austen remarked regarding the protagonist of her 1815 novel Emma (Austen-Leigh 158). Austen here encapsulates the essence of Emma Woodhouse’s titular character, one that is thoroughly debated by her devoted fans and equally devoted critics. Emma is often criticized for her spoiled, prideful, and meddlesome disposition. Indeed, Emma’s initial unlikeability often results in dismissal by modern readers. The bygone culture surrounding her and her unique position in it leave Emma in danger of being labeled as “irrelevant.” But the debate about Emma’s character begs a larger question: are any of Austen’s heroines relevant to today’s society? Undoubtedly, Austen’s characters are steeped in a culture far-removed from the modern world. But it can be argued that the vivid personalities of each of Austen’s heroines rise above their cultural situations, and Austen presents strong females who are still relatable and instructive to modern readers after over two centuries. Through a deep exploration of the character of Emma Woodhouse, the truth about Austen’s heroines might be discovered. If Emma—Austen’s self-professed “unlikeable” heroine—can be proved relevant, it follows that all of Austen’s characters have that potential. Does the culture in which Emma lives define her relevance to the modern world? Or is her character so inspirational that she still speaks to readers today?

Emma Woodhouse is a nineteenth century woman surrounded by a culture whose ideals, manners, and social standards are vastly different from modern society. Emma’s birthplace, the quaint town of Highbury where the novel’s events unfold, embodies the idiosyncrasies of Regency-era England. Characters in Emma ride in carriages (E 121) and attend balls (336). One “accomplished” (176) young woman even plays the pianoforte “delightfully” (227). Foreign concepts of civility and proper etiquette are equally prevalent; unrefined Mrs. Elton appears to have dramatically overstepped a social line when she addresses Mr. Knightley, a member of the gentry, as simply “Knightley” (292). Additionally, Emma’s status and wealth determine social obligations and rules required of her, particularly in regard to her behavior towards others. Emma is chastised by Mr. Knightley for her slight to Miss Bates, a woman of reduced circumstances whose “situation should secure [Emma’s] compassion” (394). These outdated manners are no longer valued in modern cultures; thus, modern readers cannot relate to Emma’s situation because of their own present-day experiences. Commonly referenced social standards are particularly difficult to understand because Austen, who was writing for her contemporaries, had no need to explain them. These aspects of Emma’s culture distance her and her story from contemporary readers and make Emma’s character unrelatable.

A second point in favor of the irrelevance of Austen’s heroine can be made based on Emma’s unique position of authority among her community due to her wealth and social status. The well-known opening line of Emma introduces the eponymous heroine as “Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition” (9). Thus, it is established from the start of the novel that Emma Woodhouse is an extremely privileged woman. As a member of the second wealthiest family in Highbury, Emma is a gentlewoman. Much of Austen’s novel centers around complicated issues of social status and class. Emma considers it a great success to persuade ingénue Harriet Smith out of matrimony with a farmer whom Emma “could never admit as an acquaintance of [her] own” (68). On another occasion, Emma suffers from extreme uncertainty as to whether or not she should accept a dinner party invitation from the Coles, who are “of low origin, in trade, and only moderately genteel” (219). Emma declares that “they ought to be taught that it was not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would visit them” (219). Because of her wealth and rank, Emma lives a life of leisure; she does not have to work for her livelihood, as a middle-class woman might. Dwelling amongst privilege and grandeur, Emma is constantly attended by servants (122, 374, 382) and “wherever she is, presides” (388). Indeed, Austen notes at the beginning of the novel that “[t]he real evils . . . of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself” (9). Emma holds a unique position of authority among her family and friends; as Mr. Knightley articulates, “ever since she was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all” (42). Emma’s easy manipulation of her father Mr. Woodhouse, her governess Mrs. Weston, and her protégé Harriet attest to the level of her influence. Everyone seems to bow to her ostensibly superior judgments. Emma sees herself as the mistress of Hartfield, the matchmaker of the town, the mastermind behind every scheme; in short, she thinks herself more clever than everybody else (16). This kind of dual authority—in both rank and power—was extraordinary even for Emma’s time; she tells Harriet that “few married women are half as much mistress of their husband’s house as [she is] of Hartfield” (93). Emma’s unusual position of polyvalent authority makes her character difficult to relate to and puts her relevancy into question.

Since Emma’s position leaves her with considerable leisure time, her chief concern and source of entertainment is the matrimonial state of those around her. This is a major contrast to modern readers, most of whom would not understand Emma’s marital obsession. From the start of the novel, Emma shows an exceptional partiality for matchmaking, calling it “the greatest amusement in the world!” (16). Though she is not interested in marriage for herself (23), Emma takes great delight in endeavoring to orchestrate marriages around her. After successfully finding matches for her sister and her governess, Emma considers herself an expert in the realm of human emotion. The irony of this is that her later marital predictions are all erroneous. By the end of the novel, three women are happily married—Harriet Smith, Jane Fairfax, and Emma herself—in a way that Emma failed to foresee. In Austen’s world, marriage was the epitome of happiness, and Emma’s situation is no different; after a series of blunders and misunderstandings, Emma meets her own match, and everyone is “fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union” (508). Twenty-first century readers may take issue with the fact that Emma’s “happily ever after” depends not on herself but on the interest and affection of a man (436). Thus, Emma’s pet game of matchmaking estranges her from modern readers, who cannot all relate to the view of marriage as the summit of a woman’s accomplishments.

One might argue that Emma’s culture, position, and obsession with marriage distance her from modern society in such a way that makes her character unrelatable, and the ultimate message of Austen’s book is lost in a whirlwind of irrelevant ideas. Emma’s culture is outdated, her position of authority is incompatible with Austen’s contemporary audience, and her matchmaking is the work of an idle and frivolous woman. Is it conceivable that the significant lapse of two centuries since the novel’s publication—two centuries full of technological, scientific, and social advancements—has left Emma Woodhouse an antiquated character?

The real question that must be asked is why Emma’s “unlikeable” character has been admired for so long by both academia and devoted fans. Why, indeed? Perhaps there is more to Emma Woodhouse than her culture, her position, or her concerns. Many argue that Austen’s Emma was written as a didactic work, intended to convey moral lessons in an accessible way. If these lessons are still applicable to modern readers, then it follows that Emma’s culture does not determine her relevancy. Indeed, Emma Woodhouse remains relevant to modern culture because the lessons she learns are still desperately needed today. Throughout the novel, Emma embarks on a transformative journey of self-discovery that reveals the workings of her heart in a deeply insightful way. Austen’s book is truly an analysis of human nature. Emma’s gradual understanding of her mistakes—and her eventual realization that she can be loved in spite of them—is a profound exploration of human dignity, self-worth, and unconditional love that makes Emma not only relevant but necessary to modern society.

One of the first lessons that Emma learns is a lesson of human worth and the importance of humility—one that is just as relevant today as it was in Austen's time. Emma is introduced as a self-confident woman of twenty-one who thinks she has the world figured out. The loss of her governess at the beginning of the novel evidences that Emma is taking her first steps into adulthood, and the turbulent events of the rest of the story mark developmental milestones in Emma’s gradual transition from an immature, spoiled young woman to an adult who behaves with grace and maturity. Emma’s endeavor to “improve” Harriet Smith (17) is her first undertaking of adulthood, an action of teaching another rather than being taught herself. Emma intends to “detach [Harriet] from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good society” (17). These plans come crashing down around Emma as she persuades malleable Harriet to reject the man she truly loves and fall in love consecutively with two men who do not return her affection. Emma’s pride leads her to be insensitive to Harriet’s true feelings except where they align with her schemes, and she thus degrades Harriet to less of a person than a plaything. In essence, Emma fails to recognize people’s intrinsic value, subjecting them to her schemes and objectifying their feelings and experiences; they are merely pawns in a game to be pushed and prodded in whichever direction she—the “cleverest” of them all—sees fit. In these moments, Austen teaches powerful lessons about the dignity of a human being. Emma’s self-centered manipulation results only in ruin; eventually, she resolves to give up matchmaking entirely (146) because “it [is] wrong . . . to take so active a part in bringing any two people together” (146). Emma’s attitude towards Harriet transforms with her heart; by the end of the novel, she humbly repents of her schemes in regard to Harriet and can “most sincerely wish [her] happy” in the match Harriet chooses for herself (497). In reality, Emma’s obsession with matchmaking is simply a tangible way for Austen to communicate her heroine’s inability to comprehend true human worth and the powerful lessons she learns about it—lessons that remain relevant today.

Once Emma’s eyes are opened to the worth of others, her self-examination reveals another important lesson about her own value. From the start of the novel, the reader becomes very well acquainted with Emma’s many faults, which makes her eminence in Highbury surprising. Emma holds a flawless reputation among the denizens of Highbury—even those, like Miss Bates, whom Emma has treated badly (400). Affectionate Mr. Woodhouse views Emma with paternal naiveté, and doting Mrs. Weston has “such an affection for [Emma] as could never find fault” (10). To hide her many faults and in response to social pressures, Emma has unconsciously created a persona that she presents to the world around her. Likely believing that exposing her faults makes her vulnerable, Emma hides behind beauty, power, and confidence. Once she is stripped of this mask of confidence in the climactic moment of self-examination at the end of the novel, readers recognize a heroine who is just like themselves: flawed and afraid, and yearning for something more. Emma is human. She makes mistakes. She longs to be something more than she is. But Austen leads Emma—and all her readers—to understand that she can be loved in spite of all her faults. Emma has manipulated all her acquaintances to see her not as she is, but as she wants to be—all but one, that is. Among Emma’s relations, Mr. Knightley is the only person who ever sees faults in her and “the only one who ever [tells] her of them” (15). Mr. Knightley, with unaffected eyes guided by the truest kind of love which always seeks the good of the other, sees through Emma’s persona and into her heart. Here, Austen presents a beautiful picture of unconditional love, where the only person who sees Emma’s faults clearly is the one who loves her best.

Mr. Knightley’s love for Emma completes her journey of self-discovery. Emma’s blatantly high opinion of herself and her firm belief that she is always right are challenged constantly by Mr. Knightley’s well-meant reprimands at intervals throughout the story which mark essential points in her transformation. Mr. Knightley first rebukes Emma in regard to Harriet and Robert Martin. Here, in the early chapters of the novel, Emma is resistant to Mr. Knightley; they quarrel magnificently, Emma insisting to the end that she has done nothing wrong (71). In her immaturity, Emma is unable to see that she has erred; her pride blinds her to the realities of Harriet’s situation of which Mr. Knightley tries to apprise her. Later in the novel, they quarrel on multiple occasions about Frank Churchill (157, 370). While Emma does not present quite so much conceit in these interactions as before—by this point in the novel, she has already been humbled by her ruinous error regarding Mr. Elton—she still exhibits an immature disregard for Mr. Knightley’s opinion, trusting her own judgment best. But it is their last confrontation that truly unveils the depth of Emma’s transformation. Mr. Knightley’s harsh reproof on Box Hill meets with little resistance; upon his first remarks Emma “blushe[s]” and “[is] sorry” (394). She not only admits to being wrong but takes steps to show her contrition and repair the broken relationships.

Emma has completely transformed from the conceited, overly confident woman she was when she quarreled with Mr. Knightley over Harriet, and she now accepts his rebuke and submits to his judgment with humility and maturity. For the first time in her life, Emma fully understands her flaws and realizes how unworthy she is of the love and admiration of everyone around her. It is in this state of mind that she recognizes her love for Mr. Knightley and despairs of it ever being returned. But her despair proves groundless; Mr. Knightley loves her dearly, calling her “faultless in spite of all her faults” (454). He knows, perhaps better than anyone else, the depth of Emma’s faults, but he loves her in spite of them. This kind of love is wholly new to Emma, a “precious certainty of being beloved” (453) independent of the persona she presents to the world to mask her flaws. Austen completes her exploration of the human heart with a perfect picture of love without conditions. Thus, Emma Woodhouse remains a necessary reminder of the existence of both ugliness and beauty in the human heart and the hope that is found in limitless, unconditional love.

Through Emma’s growth in her understanding of human dignity, self-worth, and unconditional love, Austen teaches enduring lessons about human nature that transcend cultures and time, remaining applicable to readers today. While cultures, situations, and circumstances have changed immensely, human nature remains the same, making timeless characters like Emma ever more relevant to a progress-focused people. Austen’s novels are a reminder to modern readers that so-called “advancements” in society, science, and technology did not and cannot solve the ever-present problem of human nature. Human nature is flawed; people make mistakes. Austen’s Emma has survived two centuries of corruption, upheaval, and worldwide conflict to remind twenty-first century readers that nobody has to be defined by their mistakes. People can only continue to battle their ever-present flaws by an increase of self-examination, an abundance of humility, and the perpetual presence of unconditional love. Perhaps Emma is “unlikeable”; perhaps we are all unlikeable. But Austen shows her readers through Emma’s example that even the unlikeable can be loved, and the seemingly irrelevant can be inspiring.