Hemm, Ashley

English

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University of New Orleans 
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Undergraduate Prizes and Awards Undergraduate Showcase 
5-2012 
The Impossible Cost of Freedom: Virtue versus Independence in 
The Coquette 
Ashley Hemm 
University of New Orleans, ahemm@uno.edu 
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Hannah Webster Foster’s The Coquette is representative of several genres: the seduction novel, in which a young, female protagonist pays the price of succumbing to seduction with her life; and the novel of 
manners, in which a society’s characteristics and values are described, often in 
contrast to individual desire. However, the novel’s setting and background—a 
fictionalized account of real events set during the first decades of American 
history—add a much more complicated context than other examples of either 
genre. Eliza Wharton’s struggle to define herself in her own terms is at once 
reminiscent of revolutionary America’s struggle for not only autonomy but 
also cohesive identity. Viewed through the lens of the novel of manners, Eliza’s 
struggle for personal freedom is a bitter one, and ultimately one that cannot 
succeed due to society’s restrictions upon women. In this context, Foster also 
twists the concept of the seduction novel. Eliza’s death is still a direct result of her 
seduction—her seducer is not, however, the rakish Major Sanford but the very 
concept of freedom and its impossible allure.
Unmarried women have no real standing in Eliza’s world: they are seen for 
their potential as wives rather than their merit as individuals. By deferring the 
foregone conclusion of marriage and placing a higher value on her individual 
freedom, Eliza progressively lowers her value as potential mate until she is seen 
as nothing but a tease: the titular coquette. Her dalliances with Sanford chip 
away at her perceived virtue until there is nothing left; by the time his conquest is 
complete, the damage has long since been done. The text steadily reinforces this 
notion, particularly in the context of Eliza’s three suitors: the deceased Mr. Haly, 
Mr. Boyer, and Major Sanford. Eliza’s relationship with each man emphasizes 
her attempts to purchase freedom with virtue, the only currency society allows 
her to possess. 
It is telling that Eliza’s only official engagement has concluded before the novel 
has taken place, with the untimely but unsurprising death of Mr. Haly, her fiancé. 
The Impossible Cost of Freedom: 
Virtue versus Independence in The Coquette
ashley hemm
Quarante Club Prize
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The novel opens with her letter to Lucy Freeman describing her pleasure at finally 
being able to “leave [her] paternal roof” (Foster 806) upon the end of a suitable 
period of mourning for Mr. Haly. Eliza hastens to explain that she “esteemed” 
the man her family chose to be her spouse, but that “no one acquainted with the 
disparity of our tempers and dispositions, our views and designs, can suppose 
my heart much engaged in the alliance” (807). At first glance, this behavior may 
appear callous, after all, Eliza sees her fiancé’s death (as well as that of her father, 
mentioned in passing in Boyer’s first letter [811]) as a means to achieve her own 
freedom. As C. Leiren Mower suggests in “Bodies in Labor: Sole Proprietorship 
and the Labor of Conduct in The Coquette,” Eliza is simply “refusing to continue 
the sham of mourning for her dead suitor…readjusting the locus of control: in 
place of her parents’ wishes and the mourning conventions of her culture, she 
asserts the to labor over her own body” (Mower 329). 
Unfortunately, Eliza cannot make such assertions without consequence. Her 
second letter to Lucy shows a response to an unseen reprimand of her previous 
words: “I have received your letter—your moral lecture rather; and be assured, my 
dear, your monitorial lessons and advice shall be attended to” (809). This is the 
first example we see of Lucy’s function as a typical member of society, cautioning 
her friend not to sacrifice her virtue for freedom. While Eliza tentatively agrees 
to modify her behavior, she still shows a reticence to agree with Lucy’s (and thus 
society’s) values: “I believe I shall never again resume those airs which you term 
coquettish, but which I think deserve a softer appellation, as they proceed from 
an innocent heart, and are the effusions of a youthful and cheerful mind” (809). 
That Eliza’s relief at no longer being burdened with an unwanted engagement 
is perceived as coquetry despite her never once having mentioned another man 
shows the extremely limited options she has. Eliza’s candor in expressing her 
newfound freedom is the first warning sign that her friends will latch onto: as an 
unattached woman, she should be considering her options for a suitable husband, 
not basking in the pleasure of being unattached. By admitting this pleasure, Eliza 
has already signaled to her peers that she is no longer as virtuous as she is expected 
to be. This precedent will set the tone for the events of the rest of the novel. 
Eliza’s next letters introduce her second suitor, Mr. Boyer, as well as her 
reticence to pledge herself so quickly to another man. Wenska puts it succinctly 
in “The Coquette and the American Dream of Freedom”: “Unfortunately for 
Boyer, he represents everything Eliza is Trying—at least temporarily—to escape” 
(Wenska 247).While Eliza never once rejects the concept of marriage as a whole, 
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118
she very clearly wishes to defer it, particularly so soon after the, end of her 
previous engagement. Upon Mrs. Richman’s suggestion of Boyer as a suitable 
husband, E1iza implores her to’’|1]et me, then, enjoy that freedom which is so 
highly prize”(812). Mrs. Richman’s reply is but the first of many in the same vein, 
urging Eliza to take care not to enjoy her freedom too much. “But I despise those 
contracted ideas which confine virtue to a cell,” she tells Lucy (812), unaware that 
the only way in which her peers allow the preservation of virtue is to confine it.
Despite Eliza’s misgivings towards marrying Boyer in a timely manner, 
she continues to allow him to court her. Mrs. Richman continues to push her 
toward accepting his suit, refuting Eliza’s concerns about giving up her freedom 
by claiming that she has “wrong ideas about freedom and matrimony” that 
she hopes Boyer “will happily rectify” (822). Eliza’s “wrong ideas” are quite 
justified, Mower argues, “for not only will she be subject as a married woman 
to…social regulations…but she will also be subject to the legal regulation of her 
body and possessions” (330). Unfortunately, Eliza’s reluctance to commit to 
Boyer, regardless of the reason, is interpreted as coquetry, particularly due to her 
association with Major Sanford, a known and unapologetic rake. Boyer makes 
this abundantly clear upon his formal ending of his suit: “too long has my peace 
of mind been sacrificed to the arts of a woman whose conduct has proved her 
unworthy of my regard; insensible to love, gratitude, and honor” (852). Eliza’s 
unwillingness to pledge herself entirely to Boyer and her continued acquaintance 
with Major Sanford are enough to brand her a coquette. Any unwillingness to 
marry Boyer is clearly a sign weakness of character, if not downright villainy on 
her part. Worse, Boyer assumes that her behavior is due to Sanford’s influence: 
“[b]anish him from your society,” he implores her, “if you wish to preserve your 
virtue unsullied, your character unsuspicious. It already begins to depreciate” 
(854). Eliza’s virtue is irrevocably tied to her willingness to marry; any hesitation 
on her part only sullies her reputation further. 
Perhaps the most complicated relationship in The Coquette is that of Eliza 
and Major Sanford. Sanford is an unrepentant rake, happy to entertain himself 
at the expense of others, particularly Eliza. In his first letter to Deighton, Sanford 
states that, if Eliza is truly a coquette, “I shall avenge my sex by retaliating the 
mischiefs she meditates against us” (815). Sanford’s proof of Eliza’s coquetry is 
her demeanor: “gay, volatile, apparently thoughtless of every thing but present 
enjoyment” (815). Eliza’s ability and desire to enjoy herself freely is already a sign 
of tarnish on her virtue, and one that Sanford will exploit throughout the novel, 
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sabotaging Eliza’s already tenuous relationship with Boyer in an effort to claim 
her for himself. 
Eliza and Sanford share many common traits: while neither is overly ready 
to marry (though Sanford does admit that “[w]ere I disposed to marry, I am 
persuaded she would make an excellent wife” [818]), they each mention a desire 
to marry up. “Whenever I do submit to be shackled,” Sanford writes, “it must 
be from a necessity of mending my fortune” (818). Likewise, Eliza tells Lucy 
that “when I thought more seriously, [Sanford’s] liberal fortune was extremely 
alluring to me, who, you know, have been hitherto confined to the rigid rules of 
prudence and economy, not to say necessity, in my finances” (840). However, 
these similarities are overshadowed by Sanford’s and Eliza’s respective genders. 
Eliza will never be allowed the same freedom as Sanford; to even attempt to 
play along with his game is a clear recipe for ruin, as her friends and family 
consistently remind her. It is within Eliza’s relationship with Sanford that the last 
vestiges of her virtue are relinquished. Circumstance freed her from Haly, and the 
combination of her reluctance and Sanford’s machinations have freed her from 
Boyer, but nothing remains to free her from Sanford, who has finally succeeded 
in “the full possession of my adorable Eliza” (886). Here, at the novel’s close, Eliza 
pays the ultimate price for her continued struggle for independence: having run 
out of virtue, she pays with her life. 
Throughout the course of the novel, Eliza Wharton consistently makes choices 
that further her personal freedom, regardless of their incompatibility with the 
rules of her society. Kristie Hamilton puts it succinctly in “An Assault on the Will: 
Republican Virtue and the City in Hannah Webster Foster’s The Coquette”: Eliza 
is branded a coquette because “she attempts to balance all of her opportunities, 
sanctioned and unsanctioned, until one should present itself as that which will 
best satisfy her in her pursuit of happiness” (Hamilton 148). Eliza’s descent into 
ruin can be easily traced through the men in her life—Haly, Boyer, and Sanford—
because it is they who hold the power in her society. As an unmarried female, 
Eliza is at best a future spouse, and at worst a negative example to her peers. Lucy 
Freeman Sumner, ever the paragon of proper female behavior, phrases Eliza’s 
predicament the best: 
Slight not the opinion of the world. We are dependent beings; and while 
the smallest traces of virtuous sensibility remain, we must feel the force 
of that dependence in a greater or less degree. No female, whose mind 
is uncorrupted, can be indifferent to reputation. It is an inestimable 
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jewel, the loss of which can never be repaired. While retained, it affords 
conscious peace to our own minds, and insures the esteem and respect 
of all around us. (882) 
As a “dependent being,” Eliza has no chance whatsoever to achieve and sustain 
the level of freedom which she desires. Eliza has been unalterably seduced by 
freedom, and is unable to resist its call in order to resume her place in society. In 
a particularly biting twist, we are left with the knowledge that Eliza’s strength of 
will is ultimately her weakness, and the cause of her downfall. 
Works Cited
Foster, Hannah Webster. The Coquette. Norton Anthology of American Literature, 
7th ed. Vol. 
A. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 2007. 801-904. Print. 
Hamilton, Kristie. “An Assault on the Will: Republican Virtue and the City in 
Hannah Foster 
Webster’s The Coquette.” Early American Literature.24.2 (1989): 135-152. Print. 
Mower. C. Leiren. “Bodies in Labor: Sole Proprietorship and the Labor of 
Conduct in The 
Coquette.” American Literature. 74.2 (2002): 315-345. Print. 
Wenska Jr., Walter P. “The Coquette and the American Dream of Freedom.” Early 
American Literature. 12.3 (1977): 243 -256. Print. 


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