All three of the Brontës were much farther outside the social norms of their day than Jane Austen was, in my assessment (though “their day” was not exactly the same one, as the Brontës published their main novels a little over 30 years after Austen published hers).
Jane Austen seems to have mainly written about things that it was socially acceptable for women to know, in terms that it was socially acceptable for women to express. She references seduction and abandonment, she references adultery, but always from a distance, through second- or thirdhand accounts, and always briefly. She does not deal with passion in the way that, for example, Charlotte Brontë does in Jane Eyre; the attraction that Austen’s leads feel for their partners is a likeness of mind, an enjoyment of their company, a respect for their principles and actions, a sense of affection. (The advice Austen seems to give her readers is, perhaps, similar to that of Helen’s aunt in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall: ‘first observe, then respect, then love’.) By contrast, though Jane firmly controls her passion in Jane Eyre, its there is no doubt of its existence; her physical attraction to Rochester is very clear.
This is not about the Brontës being ‘more feminist’ than Austen, which in my opinion isn’t a useful scale. They were doing completely different things, and only seem to be compared because all are women. Austen wrote social satire mingled with romance; Charlotte and Emily Brontë, in their most famous works, were Gothic (but favoured not untrammeled passion or wildness but its channeling and control through reason and education); Anne Brontë wrote realism with strong moral or didactic elements. All of them chafed at some aspects of women’s place in society.
Jane Austen takes it for granted that a woman will desire to marry, and is very conscious of the economic precarity that could be faced by widows and old maids. The emphasis, in all her books, is on women marrying well enough to have a stable life, but not marrying without, at minimum, respect and liking for their partner. (Though she doesn’t condemn Charlotte Lucas for doing otherwise, marrying a fool and getting through the marriage in tolerable comfort by encouraging your husband to spend as little time with you as possible is not shown as a desirable situation.) The main right of women she is comcerned with is not following your dreams or heart, but the megative right of being able to refuse someone you genuinely dislike, and her heroines - Elizabeth Bennet and Fanny Price in particular - speak strongly on the subject. She is also very aware of the sexual double standards whereby women who are seduced suffer far more, socially, than the en who seduce them.
Charlotte Brontë is far more vigorous on the subject of women’s right to desire and pursue a life that is fulfilling and meaningful beyond just a family circle:
It is vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquillity: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides politucal rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts, as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.
What good it would have done me at that time to have been tossed in the storms of an uncertain struggling life, and to have been taught by rough and bitter experience to long for the calm amidst which I now repined! Yes, just as much good as it would do a man tired of sitting still in a ‘too easy chair’ to take a long walk; and just as natural was the wish to stir, under my circumstances, as it would be under his.
Charlotte Brontë also speaks more of topics that were considered unacceptable for a wonan than Austen does: both in Jane’s passion for Rochester, and Rochester’s frank disclosure to her of his prior affairs. Socially, the relationship between Jane and Rochester also crosses class boundaries in a way that Austen’s novels never openly approve (all her main matches are between members of the gentry; ones that are not, like Harriet Smith [after her parentage is known] marrying a gentleman, are regarded as deeply undesirable:
Harriet’s parentage became known. She proved to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers…Such was the blood of gentility which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!…what a connection had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley, or for the Churchills, or even for Mr. Elton! The stain of illegitimacy, unbkeached by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed.
Perhaps one thing that frustrates some readers about Mansfield Park is this relative conservatism of Austen’s. Charlotte Brontë writes conventionality is not morality; self-righteousness is not religion. But in Mansfield Park as much as any of Austen’s novels, conventionality does seem to be morality; even apart from the inappropriateness of the particular play and casting (which I will readily grant as a moral hazard), the unconventionality of amateur theatricals is immorality; the unconventionality of Mary Crawford openly criticizing her adulterous uncle is immorality; the unconventionality of Mary using the play to flirt with a man who clearly likes her and whom she likes back, and who are neither committed in any way to anyone else, is immorality.
(For reference: Elizabeth Bennet does not marry ‘out of her class’ in marrying Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine claims that, but Elizabeth firmly rebuffs that: “He is a gentleman. I am a gentleman’s daughter. Thus far, we are equal.” He’s much richer than her, but that difference merely makes the match uncommon, not improper.)
(Jane Eyre does, in fact, come into wealth before marrying Mr. Rochester, but the narrative reason in that case is not for social respectability, which neither of them care for, but for autonomy: Jane being with Rochester out of love alone, him now physically dependent on her, is better than the reverse, when all the wealth was his and he insisted, to Jane’s discomfort, on acting the part of rich benefactor.)
Anne Brontë writes even more graphically than Charlotte of spousal abuse, drunkenness, and adultery, to the point where the preface to the second edition of her book indicates she was sharply criticized when it became known she was a woman. She is like Jane Austen in one respect: she is concerned with the dangers of marriage to women. But where Austen is concerned mainly with irresponsible spending and/or lack of intelligence or sense in making for an unhappy marriage, Anne is extremely frank about abuse, cruelty, and coercive control. She clearly believes in women’s need for greater freedom just as Charlotte does, but where Charlotte focuses on autonomy, purpose, and the need for an equal relationshio that is a true meeting of minds, hearts, and spirits, Anne emphasizes freedom - and a more honest education in the dangers of the world - as necessary for women to be able to escape from harm. (I have passed over Emily Brontë as I don’t understand her writings well enough to speak to her ideas on women.)
