Persuasion, Jane Austen’s posthumously
published novel, bears striking resemblance to her earlier and widely acclaimed
work, Pride and Prejudice. In fact, one could almost declare the
likeness so profound as to propose the novel worthy of being titled Pride
and Persuasion. Pride, a necessary evil in any proper English
gentleman; and persuasion (or rather the act of allowing
oneself to be strongly – and wrongly – persuaded), an unattractive trait that
betrays “too yielding and indecisive a character.” (Wentworth; Volume I,
Chapter X) Needless to say, these undesirable traits form the basis for the
conflict between the two primary protagonists, and result in an
eight-year estrangement after a short period of engagement.
The first parallel to be
drawn between the two novels, then, is the title as the primary factor
of division, and the hurdle to overcome in reunion. In Pride and
Prejudice, Mr Darcy, through pride that
befits his station is life, frowns upon the poor financial situation and
eccentric family of Elizabeth Bennet. Though he claims to love her,
his proposal (which mostly serves to list her family's shortcomings and outline
the complete lack of balance in their potential relationship) is severely
lacking in sentimental value. Elizabeth Bennet, though shocked by
the unexpected speech, is expectedly unimpressed. She refuses him, both on
account of his insulting declaration and also as a result of
prior prejudice formed against him under the influence
of negative rumours pertaining to his character. In Persuasion, Captain
Wentworth's pride, which prevents him from seeking out and
re-courting Anne Elliot immediately, stems from his absolute
resentment towards her for allowing herself to be persuaded against
marrying him despite accepting his proposal. As the daughter of a Baron, Anne is
socially superior in the relationship, and her confidante, Lady Russell,
could not bear the thought of her Anne "with all her
claims of birth, beauty, and mind" marrying a young man with nothing to
his name. Hence, Anne Elliot allows herself to be persuaded against
the match. Similarly, Elizabeth Bennet trusts Wickham and
willingly believes his poisonous lies regarding Mr Darcy’s character,
and is thus persuaded to become prejudiced against
him.
The second and most comedic parallel between the two
novels is family. Austen weaves her tales with social critique and
lessons on morality, which often emerge in bursts of satirical wit or downright
hilarious moments of idiocy. The gentlemen's families are rarely mentioned as
being consequential or influential in the main couplings, but the Bennets and
the Elliots are quite a delightful bunch. Mr Bennet is
a sensible man with a silly wife, and the late Lady Elliot was
a sensible woman who married a vain man. Simply pronouncing Sir
Walter Elliot ‘vain’ is apparently an understatement, as there does
not appear to be any further substance to his character - unless you take into
account that he was also a “conceited, silly father.” (Austen; Volume I,
Chapter I). As Austen makes abundantly clear at the beginning of the novel (so
as to avoid any possible ambiguity and leave no room for reconsideration),
"vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's character;
vanity of person and of situation." (Austen; Volume I, Chapter I) This is
possibly one of the most hilarious character descriptions to rival Eddie
Redmayne's "Texan meth addict paedophile with a limp."
(Some interview; somewhere) This kind of blatant clarity seems almost like
a challenge, encouraging readers to search the rest of the novel for one single
redeeming quality to save a condemned man. By the end of the novel, one
realises that alas, Austen's contemptuous treatment of Sir Walter
Elliot (as the figurehead for a most detested character trait) is
bulletproof. If one found his character comical at the start of the novel, by
the end, he has become tiresome and deserving of all the evils that have justly
befallen him.
Parents aside, the siblings in the two novels also
deserve a mention. The most comical comparison would be Mary
Bennet vs. Mary Elliot. Both Marys like
to fancy themselves (and their questionable talent/class) severely
under-appreciated, strive to be the centre of attention, and don't seem to
understand just how irritating they really are. Neither pose a threat in story
development, however, and as such, both can be regarded with fond exasperation.
Both families consist of daughters; 5 Miss Bennets and 3 Miss
Elliots (Downton Abbey, anyone?). As a result, their fathers' estates will
be passed to the closest male relative upon his passing. In both instances, the
future heir is invited to be acquainted, and displays (or hides) a fundamental
character flaw. Mr Collins is... bizarre, for want of a better
word, and Mr Elliot is cunning, manipulative and downright
heartless. However, both share a common goal; our heroine's heart. And both, as
logic dictates, fail.
There are so many more parallels to be drawn between the
two novels, and I would encourage anyone who has read both texts to offer their
own thoughts. For the purpose of this review, however, I feel that it is time
to share some of my musings on Persuasion itself.
Latika noted that “Austen, at least in this book,
portrays the world in either black or white with not much room for grey, so
someone is either good or bad.” (Mani; blog post below) While this appears to
be true on the surface, such as the ruthless juxtaposition of Elizabeth
Elliot’s vices against Anne’s virtues (comical to say
the least), I found myself of a different opinion by the end of the novel. The
character of Lady Russell exemplifies my argument. Austen
spends much of the novel reassuring readers that Lady Russell “was
a benevolent, charitable, good woman, and capable of strong attachments; most
correct in her conduct, strict in her notions of decorum, and with manners that
were held a standard of good-breeding.” (Austen, Volume I, Chapter II) To think
that such a woman could be the primary cause of eight years of regret and
suffering for her favourite god-daughter is hard to fathom. A little background
reading revealed that sometime prior to writing this novel, Austen herself had
undergone a period in her life when her favourite niece thought to base her
betrothal on Austen’s sole opinion. Terrified of being held accountable for
future mishaps, Austen had written her niece a detailed letter entreating her
to take her future happiness into her own hands. This then, could be the
motivation behind Austen’s constant reminder of Lady Russell’s faultless
character despite her being the catalyst for the major event that led to the
misunderstandings in the novel. She is neither perfect, nor evil; she is simply
a strong-minded woman who did what she thought best for her favourite
god-daughter, and thought wrong.
The concept of persuasion as
pertaining to a weak and undependable mind is a primary and ongoing source of
debate throughout the novel. Blinded by his resentment towards Anne
Elliot, Captain Wentworth readily tells Louisa
Musgrove that “yours is the character of decision and firmness… it is
the worst evil of too yielding and indecisive a character, that no influence
over it can be depended on… let those who would be happy be firm.” (Wentworth;
Volume I, Chapter X) At this point in the novel, he still believes (or
has persuaded himself to believe) Louisa's strong
and unyielding personality worthy of praise, whereas readers may instead find
her character obstinate and headstrong. Barely two chapters later, after her
adamant demand to leap off a pier wall resulted in near tragedy, Captain Wentworth is
forced to re-evaluate his unjust classification of Louisa Musgrove and Anne
Elliot’s different personalities. Anne herself
wonders, on their journey back to Uppercross to inform Louisa’s parents
of her unfortunate predicament, whether this incident might cause him to
“question the justness of his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity
and advantage of firmness of character; and whether it might not strike him,
that, like all other qualities of mind, it should have its proportions and
limits.” (Austen; Volume I, Chapter XII) Anne observes, and
rightly so, that later reflection upon the lead-up to Louisa’s accident
ought to make Captain Wentworth realise that “a persuadable
temper might sometimes be as much in favour of happiness, as a very resolute
character.” (Austen; Volume I, Chapter XII) Indeed, Captain Wentworth pronounces
her observation entirely correct after their eventual reconciliation, during
the essential clear-up of prior misunderstandings that immediately follows.
After his avid account of his distressed spirit and agonised mind post Louisa’s accident, Captain
Wentworth tells Anne that in the quiet period of
reflection that followed, he found himself at least able to “distinguish
between the steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will, between the
darings of heedlessness and the resolution of a collected mind.” (Austen;
Volume II, Chapter XI) From all this, it is not exceedingly difficult to
ascertain Austen’s angle on the concept of persuasion. She neither
advocates a mind that is easily persuadable, nor one that is
ruled by obstinacy. Instead, she calls upon readers to be like her
heroine, Anne Elliot; heed duty, but also stay resolute to one’s
principles. Surely then, happiness must follow. Right?
Through the novel, Austen makes abundantly clear her
distaste for strict class differentiation, long engagements, as well as
deceptive, pretentious and manipulative people. On the other hand, she
encourages constancy and sincerity of character. As a comical and satirical
piece of social and character critique, this novel is a good read with plenty
to ponder beneath the surface. As a romance, I’m not sure I was sold. Forgive
me for failing to understand how our protagonists are able to rekindle their
romance after an eight-year estrangement without any form of communication;
with barely two words exchanged during their months-long re-acquaintance at
Uppercross, during which the hero is happily wooing two other women and the
heroine is busy hiding her mounting misery. At the
end of the novel, Captain Wentworth’s explanation for his unpardonable behaviour earlier shed
some light into his confused psyche (maybe), but the whole concept still
boggles my mind. Perhaps the absurdity of it all is the definition of romance.
Perhaps not.
