The Gilded Page

The idea of persuasion brings to mind intentional influence that people exert over others, perhaps as a well written speech or an emotional appeal, meant to direct another person to specific action. Jane Austen’s Persuasion features plenty of such coordinated efforts, but also deals with more subtle types of influence that occur over time. There is a lot of focus on the unit of a couple, and how spouses change or fail to change each other. How much persuasion is good, and even expected, when people share a life together?

The first couple in the book begins with Sir Walter, who is the picture of a self absorbed nobleman. “Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot’s character; vanity of person and of situation.” His late wife is less straightforward:

“Lady Elliot had been an excellent woman, sensible and amiable; whose judgment and conduct, if they might be pardoned the youthful infatuation which made her Lady Elliot, had never required indulgence afterwards.– She had humored, or softened, or concealed his failings, and promoted his real respectability for seventeen years; and though not the very happiest being in the world herself, she had found enough in her duties, her friends, and her children, to attach her to life, and make it no matter of indifference to her when she was called on to quit them.”

It is so interesting how Austen phrases Lady Elliot’s influence over her husband: she poses “humored, or softened, or concealed” as possibilities, or descriptions that come out at different times, or maybe even different people’s perspectives on how Lady Elliot lived with the failings of her husband. “Concealed” may be a descriptor that can be only applied in hindsight, after Lady Elliot’s death: perhaps while she was alive it really appeared that she had changed him. And “humored” is very mysterious, because it could be taken as her encouraging bad habits, even condescendingly. It implies an emotional distance between them, whereas ‘softened’ could imply closeness. But it is delightful how ambiguous all three of these descriptors remain, as they are present but not chosen between, just because of that little word “or.” 

Whatever kind of influence Lady Elliot had over Sir Walter, the full effect did not outlive her. “While Lady Elliot lived, there had been method, moderation, and economy, which had just kept him within his income; but with her had died all such right-mindedness, and from that period he had been constantly exceeding it.” Clearly Sir Walter did not absorb enough of this sense and moderation for it to be a habit for him, and it makes one wonder whether he ever realized that it was only the efforts of his wife that kept them afloat. As we see later with him, he is completely disconnected from the consequences of his actions. He never has to learn his lesson, he simply continues to act according to what he deems necessary to maintain his social status and pride. For any person of sense, what are the moral implications of enabling this behavior and mentality? What, if anything, could shake Sir Walter out of defaulting to others to solve his problems?

This very divided and dependent relationship of the Elliots makes for an interesting comparison point for other relationships that follow it. Anne Elliot was courted by Charles Musgrove, and after she declined his offer, he married her sister Mary. Mary is very boring, yet very self-important. Charles is “civil and agreeable,” but Anne knows that she would not have been fulfilled if she had married him. And yet,

“Anne could believe, with Lady Russell, that a more equal match might have greatly improved him; and that a woman of real understanding might have given more consequence to his character, and more usefulness, rationality, and elegance to his habits and pursuits. As it was, he did nothing with much zeal, but sport; and his time was otherwise trifled away, without benefit from books, or anything else.”

This hypothetical situation of improvement is certainly not how things played out for the Elliots, even though Lady Elliot was a woman of sense. But are there other scenarios in which it could come true? It certainly sounds plausible. Why do Anne and Lady Russell imagine that a better spouse would have changed Charles? Surely there are other sources of inspiration that Charles could look to if this type of self improvement is something he is capable of. How much more influence would Anne have had as his wife than she has as his sister-in-law? Does he display an inner spark to make her think that improvements brought to him by another person would be deeper than surface level, enough to give him a sense of purpose?

Some characters in the novel are spared the country gentry’s burden of having to create their life’s meaning from scratch by having an occupation. Admiral Croft is in the navy, and Mrs. Croft has spent most of their marriage alongside him on various ships. She says

“the happiest part of my life has been spent on board a ship. When we were together, you know, there was nothing to be feared…the only time that I ever fancied myself unwell, or had any ideas of danger, was the winter that I passed by myself at Deal, when the Admiral (Captain Croft then) was in the North Seas. I lived in perpetual fright at that time, and had all manner of imaginary complaints from not knowing what to do with myself, or when I should hear from him next; but as long as we could be together, nothing ever ailed me, and I never met with the smallest inconvenience.”

Being together is a big theme with the Crofts, and they are united by a sense of purpose in life. Instead of his profession separating them, it gives them a shared identity, and they are both respected members of that unit. Anne notes this.

“She always watched them as long as she could; delighted to fancy she understood what they might be talking of, as they walked along in happy independence, or equally delighted to see the Admiral’s hearty shake of the hand when he encountered an old friend, and observe their eagerness of conversation when occasionally forming into a little knot of the navy, Mrs. Croft looking as intelligent and keen as any of the officers around her.”

There is a brief scene which adds an interesting layer of complexity to this otherwise blissful union. When the Crofts are giving Anne a ride home in their gig, the Admiral proves to be a rather careless driver. It is up to Mrs. Croft to save them:

“‘My dear admiral, that post!–we shall certainly take that post.’ But by cooly giving the reins a better direction herself, they happily passed the danger; and by once afterwards judiciously putting out her hand, they neither fell into a rut, nor ran foul of a dung-cart; and Anne, with some amusement at their style of driving, which she imagined no bad representation of the general guidance of their affairs, found herself safely deposited by them at the cottage.”

Of course this is in some ways a humorous episode, and it all ends happily. But is there a darker note to this type of teamwork? The duality between the carefree one and responsible one brings back to the idea of “humoring, or softening, or concealing” a partner’s failings, leaving them to continue habits that pose serious threats to others. 

Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth come together as mature adults, with very similar priorities and values. It is interesting to consider how they would be individually and as a couple if they had followed through with their original engagement. They both want to be useful to others, and they are very good at it. They both walk the narrow line between trying to be open and genuine, and trying to make other people feel good. This is in stark contrast to those who use formality and politeness to substitute for real feeling and the effort of human connection. Anne finds a lot to admire in Frederick in this regard, as in the instance when Mrs. Musgrove wants to be consoled about her errant son, and Frederick is tasked with responding to her.

“There was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth’s face at this speech, a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome mouth, which convinced Anne, that instead of sharing in Mrs. Musgrove’s kind wishes, as to her son, he had probably been at some pains to get rid of him; but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to be detected by any who understood him less than herself; in another moment he was perfectly collected and serious; and almost instantly afterwards coming up to the sofa, on which she and Mrs. Musgrove were sitting, took a place by the latter, and entered into conversation with her, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with so much sympathy and natural grace, as shewed the kindest consideration for all that was real and unabsurd in the parent’s feelings.”

Frederick has his opinion about the late Richard Musgrove, which is almost universally shared except for the revisionist sentiments of the family now that he is dead. However, of course it is not appropriate or useful to express that opinion to the sentimental mother in this moment. Instead of just throwing around a few niceties though, Frederick finds the “real and unabsurd” aspects at the core of Mrs. Musgrove’s lament, which he can engage with honestly. He is acting according to decorum, but not in a way that makes him a liar, or that betrays his values.

Might he be liable to go too far sometimes in setting aside his own feelings to do what he thinks is right? He tells Anne, once they are safely reunited, about his predicament following the accident in Lyme. He was “startled and shocked” to find that the Harvilles considered him to be engaged to Louisa. If Louisa and her family also thought this, then Frederick decided he must “abide the consequences” and go through with marrying her. Even though there was no verbal agreement to become engaged, he sees that his actions, from the perspective of society, were a promise in themselves, and so

”He found too late, in short, that he had entangled himself; and that precisely as he became fully satisfied of his not caring for Louisa at all, he must regard himself as bound to her, if her sentiments for him were what the Harvilles supposed.”

It is one thing for him to reflect upon his actions and realize that he should have been aware that other people were interpreting them in a specific way, according to well known social rules. But then for him to act on principle and follow through with his implied promise, Frederick would be guaranteeing two people a lifetime of unhappiness. Three, if you count Anne. It definitely shows a rigidity in his thinking, and a dangerous path that his adherence to principle could lead him down. If he did marry Louisa without caring for her, would he not be yielding to the persuasion of society, governed by the expectations and potential disappointments of others? Is he afraid to admit that he sometimes behaves badly, or admit that feelings can change?

Frederick’s problem is that he thinks the gravest error lies in giving in, instead of the real blameworthy thing which is to give in for the wrong reasons. Similarly, while one should not put one’s own happiness ahead of and at the expense of others, one cannot fully do the reverse either, because you cannot serve someone genuinely if you are acting against your own feelings. That is to say, Frederick could be formally polite to Louisa as her husband, but he could not serve her out of a genuine warmth and affection that she deserves from a partner, so ultimately he would be following through with his “promise” in the most shallow way possible. Ironically it is perhaps thanks to Anne that Louisa’s eyes were turned towards Benwick, and Frederick is spared from having to live out what seems mostly to be his self-imposed punishment. He does not give any sign when talking to Anne that he has reconsidered whether that resolution was right; he is just happy to move past it, as is she.

“Who can be in doubt of what followed?” They do get married, sure, but I am so curious about how they influence and shape each other over time. What continued differences do they have that remain under the surface of their characters, hidden for the moment by the elation of finding each other again? Will they be able to draw inspiration from their shared strengths, and from their friends? As is so emphasized at the beginning of the book, a new social circle is like a new world, and it would be so interesting to see the space that they create together. I Imagine that they will be much like the Harvilles, generous and active, and will contribute to their already supportive circle.