Robin is very appreciative of her daughter Stephanie's college career, a byproduct of which is the number of excellent essays that Stef has graciously lent to this site. This essay is on the supposedly autumnal tone of Jane Austen's Persuasion:

Myth and Metaphor: Anne Elliot and Tone in Persuasion

I like Claudia Johnson. I have never had the privilege of meeting the fine woman, and nor will I probably ever, but I quickly decided that she and I would hit it off very well after reading the following: "Austen, unlike her latter day readers, did not have the benefit of knowing that her impending death would be imparting a gently resigned, autumnal melancholy to all her observations."¹ Unfortunately, I was eating lunch when I first read this, and had she been there in person, sarcastically popping off while rolling her eyes, the effect would have been no different. Casually glancing around the Student Union to make sure that I had not made a public spectacle of myself by launching coffee out of my nose, I digested the implications. Perhaps her comment hit home because the few essays I had absorbed previous to hers seemed to belabor the issue—that, because Anne is Austen's oldest heroine, it follows that the novel, written during Austen's illness, is a foray into the proverbial twilight: a novel of autumnal reminiscence, or even worse, regret.

While Johnson's brazen dismissal of this attitude may not be the way to gently suggest another perspective, it is effective in something far more important: she highlights the absurdity of such a notion with a cold dose of common sense. As Johnson points out later in the essay, to read Persuasion with this misted lens would be to deny a great deal of Austen's literary vivacity. But what makes the idea so problematic? I heartily agree that on first glance, the deep interior action of the novel lends itself to weighty, golden-and-jewel-toned interpretation. However, after careful consideration I discovered that to do so would be to put one season in place of another, and to prefer one perspective over the other. Austen's interior action can be easily misinterpreted: Persuasion is a deep unfolding of the spring in Anne's life, and a study in the complexities of hope. Before I approach (what I take to be) the real metaphors, I will try to deal plainly with the "myths."

The first myth is what I refer to as the "autumnal myth." Within Persuasion, Anne poignantly carries a mental dialogue, or a Romantic verse or two, on the quality of autumn. Throughout my re-reading of Persuasion, however, I only found two direct references to autumn in such a way that it could have an impact on how we view Anne's character,² but she also ruminates in the exact same manner on the sea during their visit to Lyme.³ In the spirit of Johnson, I have to say that to my knowledge, no one has come forward supposing Anne to be Piscean because of this. In fact, I found far more references to Anne's being somewhat emotionally frozen; harsh as this is, autumn itself has a beauty which Austen did not allow Anne during the early parts of the book. Anne is described as "haggard" ⁴ and so unlike herself that Wentworth claims not to recognize her. She even thinks of her own "bloom" as having been "destroyed," ⁵ a picture which does not suppose the gently fading fall, but rather brings to mind the unforgiving violence of winter itself. Forgive me for channeling Johnson again, but going off the alleged Anne-Austen connection, one would have thought Austen to be on her deathbed in the early chapters. Providentially, this was not the case.

Compounding and reinforcing the autumnal myth is the "regret myth": that Anne looked back on her life with a self-pitying reminiscence. A primary support for this theory comes from Anne's own introspection: "she should yet have been a happier woman in maintaining the engagement."⁶ And here I will attempt to do all kinds of difficult verbal acrobatics, such as explain the nature of hope, before moving on with the essay. Yes, Austen's statement on Anne's character can be viewed as regret. Yes, we could argue that Anne truly believed it (even though she states the contrary later). But that is actually not the important part. The important function of this attitude was to keep Anne open to a reunion with Wentworth, and such a reunion would never have been possible had Anne's character not preserved some form of hope, even hope under the influence of regret. Had Anne decided before having reunited with Wentworth that she did the exact right thing, it necessarily would have precluded the reunion itself. Anne had to believe in some way that Wentworth would have been worth the sacrifice in order to be open to a relationship the second time around. To support this, permit me to draw briefly on the idea of Christian hope, namely the ever-practical Paul in Romans 8:24b: "For if you already have something, you don't need to hope for it."⁷ And if the only preservation of hope open to Anne's hurt character was regret, then so be it. Austen clearly understood that it was enough to serve the purpose.

This is the point where we move from myth to metaphor; we reach the main course in Persuasion, and it is not light fare. As I intimated earlier, Anne in the beginning of the book is in a very bad way, and here we have the conflict that drives the plot forward. In the beginning, we discover Anne's character in a frostbitten emotional state: the winter of her heart has progressed over her features, rendering her "faded and thin." ⁸ But we would do well to remember that winter is a time of hibernation, of preservation of the world that is awaiting a season of thawing, growth, and productivity. Just as the warming ice shows no signs of melting at first, though, Anne's physical appearance in the first stages of her reunion with Wentworth being described as "destroyed . . . youth and bloom" ⁹ makes a little more sense. Anne's character is being preserved for a more opportune time for fulfillment. This is an echo of a powerful Christian concept: "Not one of these people [Old Testament heroes], even though their lives of faith were exemplary, got their hands on what was promised. God had a better plan for us: that their faith and our faith would come together to make one completed whole, their lives of faith not complete apart from ours."¹⁰ Though ultimately Anne does receive her fulfillment, it had to be put off several years so as to be a more perfect fulfillment than it would have been the first time around.

As Wentworth returns to Anne's social circle and interacts with her, Anne's heart begins to thaw. Naturally, the thawing process can be rather painful; any person with poor circulation who steps into a warm bath on a cold day will find her extremities stinging. It is because of this that we have the very impacting "It is over" scene¹¹, where Austen describes Anne as so visibly shaken by her first meeting with Wentworth that the reader finds herself also gripping the nearest available chair (or leaving nail marks on the book). The first sunlight on the frost pierces Anne with emotional pain, and Austen leads us into these mental processes. Additionally, throughout the progression of the novel, Austen weaves in complementary elements: she permits fewer instances of despairing thoughts from Anne, and the physical descriptions of Anne's coming into her rightful spring become almost too numerous to count. The heroine is described as "looking remarkably well; her very regular, pretty features, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored;"¹² she is described as hoping "to be blessed with a second spring of youth and beauty."¹³ Again, in the conclusion, Austen gives a powerful description of Anne and her friend as a result of the events developed to their greatest possible end: "Her [Mrs. Smith] spring of felicity was in the glow of her spirits, as her friend Anne's was in the warmth of her heart."¹⁴ So again is echoed that Christian hope, not only in Anne, but also in her dear friend: "He puts poor people on their feet again; he rekindles burned-out lives with fresh hope."¹⁵

Finally, also in the denouement, we have Anne's seemingly troublesome reversal from her previous position. She admits, "I was right in submitting to her [Lady Russell], and that if I had done otherwise, I should have suffered more in continuing the engagement than I did even in giving it up, because I should have suffered in my conscience."¹⁶ When taken from a more divine perspective, however (that surely would have affected Austen's writing, even excepting any overt intimations), Anne's realization makes perfect sense. For we know (again, from Paul) "that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose."¹⁷ This theologically groundbreaking statement—that events in life that are seemingly horrible, or traumatizing, or sad, all ultimately work to be not only good—but the very best, subtly permeates the events in Persuasion. And surely, that is a good reason to hope.


Notes (all page numbers reference The Norton Critical Edition of Persuasion)

1. Johnson, Claudia. "Persuasion: The Unfeudal Tone of the Present Day," from Persuasion (The Norton Critical Edition)

2. pp. 23 and 56

3. p. 73

4. p.5

5. p.41

6. p.20

7. New Living Translation, as quoted from Biblegateway

8. p.5

9. p.41

10. Hebrews 11:39-40, The Message translation, as quoted from Biblegateway

11. p.40

12. p.70

13. p.81

14. p.168

15. 1 Samuel 2:8a, The Message translation, as quoted from Biblegateway

16. p.164

17. Romans 8:28, New American Standard translation, as quoted from Biblegateway



© Stephanie R. Cole, 2005. Posted Dec. 1, 2005

This essay was previously submitted to Turnitin.com.


Back to the top

Back to Literary Studies

Back to Meditations