Human Frailty, Evil, and Grace in the Novels of Jane Austen

The novels of Jane Austen are regarded by some readers as overly sanguine and removed from the real world of politics and social issues.  War does not engage her attention.  The author does not comb the labyrinths of history for multiple examples of graphic violence and evil.  And rather than chronicle the death and destruction of the Napoleonic conflicts, she lauds the heroism of the British navy.  Can such a writer be considered serious? 

Or could it be that by omitting the obvious, she directs the reader’s attention into the hidden  flawed workings of the human heart which, if left unchecked, infiltrate our communities, disrupt peaceful order, and contaminate society? 

Austen is a minister’s daughter intent on tracing the footsteps of the foolish and unwise upon this rocky earth – but in a narrative style laced with gentle humor.  Her typical villain is a charming, commonplace philanderer or manipulative social climber who may in fact be at least partially redeemable.  Her perceptions are delivered with amused irony (lacking the dismissive tone of sarcasm) and insightful commentary (lacking the vengefulness of malice).  Thus she quiets the reader’s mind as she probes the depths of the ordinary for the hidden workings of vice and evil (as well as for traces of ethics and morality).

I believe it is the ambiance of grace that makes her books unique.  In her novels, we step into a world where the humble (and not-so-humble) can receive help and triumph over adversity.  While Austen does not preach, she continually alludes to the strength given in solitary meditation and the wisdom of seeking one’s Maker.  Her novels map the activity of a divine presence whose judgments are subsumed by the willingness to rescue and help. 

To a large extent, Jane Austen portrays the world as a place of subtle influences.  Lack of appropriate instruction, the allure of false promises, the glitter of the superficial – all of these and more may shape our decisions and mar our days.  Yet overarching her narratives is the sense of a divine Creator who watches and remains ready to help a fallen world.  In Persuasion,  Providence (Austen’s term) outmaneuvers the attempts of sinfulness and wickedness to de-stabilize those who are seeking good.  Questionable counsel, social pressures, and deceptive avariciousness fail to significantly and permanently block the pathways of Anne and Wentworth, who desire to live with wisdom and integrity.  They may suffer from cloudy influences for a season, but ultimately piety and reasoned judgment prevail.

In Sense and Sensibility, Willoughby is captivated by Marianne and nearly destroys her by his desire to exploit her youth and beauty  He himself is imprisoned by selfishness and aimlessness.  Colonel Brandon, however, is a liberator.  After Willoughby succumbs to the allure of wedlock to a woman of wealth, Brandon’s compassion and deep appreciation of Marianne’s worth become apparent, ultimately opening a door for her to find a wider scope for her gifts (through marriage to him and prominence in the village).  He cherishes her and seeks her happiness, simply giving her the freedom to be.  His love is a reflection of the unconditional love that we attribute to our Maker.

It is not that Providence acts simplistically, rewarding virtue and punishing vice.  Rather, Austen’s characters are given opportunities to pursue truth and to avail themselves of grace (the merciful involvement of God) in their everyday thoughts and actions.  Some do so, and their lives reflect their decisions, but grace is present in the shadows even for those who fail.

Both Willoughby and Brandon have had opportunities to interact with Marianne and gain her affection, but the paths they followed led them in different directions.  Brandon is free from the weight of past failures to now enjoy happiness.  Willoughby, imprisoned in a life of dissipation and purposelessness, the natural result of his choices, discovers a degree of comfort within the parameters of domestic life.  Marianne, who initially lacks the ability to sift and weigh ideas and experiences with an intent to learn the truth, repents of her self-centered indulgences.  While we may, like Brandon, enjoy her zest for life, we recognize the limits of her perceptions and breathe a sigh of relief when she finally decides to subject her opinions to personal scrutiny and to live with concern for others’ well-being.. 

Austen’s protagonists largely display the courage to face truth – and the humility to allow truth to transform them.  In Pride and Prejudice, Darcy humbles himself to orchestrate the marriage of Wickham to Lydia and restore her to a secure place in society.  As Darcy becomes a rescuer, he is of necessity less encumbered by pride and thereby loosened from rigidity and judgmental aloofness.  His  generosity, existing in the domain of a Christian-influenced England, reflects the importance of divine grace in redeeming fallen humans and softening the effects of their transgressions.  Those characters weak enough to fall may persist in folly or immorality, but the charity of decent, caring people provides a bridge to grace.

Allusions to more obvious evil than the transgressions of Wickham and Lydia also find their way into Austen’s books and give us reason to ponder their significance.  In Northanger Abbey, for example, Catherine Morland builds a case against her future father-in-law, imagining him as having killed his wife until she learns irrefutably that the woman died of natural causes.  This incident is used to comedic effect as Catherine sets aside her reasoning powers for the perverse satisfaction of imbibing the atmospheric evil of the Gothic literary scene.  Although she repents of her rush to judgment, she later concludes that her evaluation is not without merit:  General Tilney is capable of cruelty.  We must ask, does the  potential for evil-doing exist in all of us, perhaps more visibly in a military officer who has been exposed to the numbing, consuming, and morally decomposing influence of the battlefield?      

General Tilney listens to contradictory assessments of the Morlands’ wealth and character, and he  is quick to view them as “friend or foe,” an unsurprising response for a military officer.  Yet life is not totally a battleground, and his thoughts are not always disconnected from reality.  The fault lines in his thinking may align with his hardness of heart, but he is not without love for his deceased wife, whose merits he had evaluated justly. 

 The fates of self-serving and deceitful philanderers can turn on a dime in Austen’s novels.  In Pride and Prejudice, Wickham must endure a loveless marriage, but who knows what greater suffering a life of debauchery would have brought him?  “Good” people fare better, but Elizabeth Bennet and Captain Wentworth must learn wisdom before they are allowed their happy endings (Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion). Even the clergy is not exempt from scrutiny:  Mr. Collins’ foolish and judgmental ways hurt others, and the Reverend Philip Elton is manipulative and deceptive, feigning love for Emma as he seeks to appropriate her fortune (Pride and Prejudice,  Emma).

Everyday encounters and decisions in Austen’s novels have the power to dramatically shape our lives for good or for ill.  In Persuasion, Anne Elliot confesses that she believes she made the right decision, when, at the age of 19, she regretfully adhered to the advice of Lady Russell to decline Wentworth’s proposal of marriage.  This confession startles the reader, who is aware of what Anne has suffered, loving Wentworth enduringly despite her lack of hope in retrieving a lost romance.  Yet with her own mother no longer living, and out of concern for Wentworth, her conscience would not let her do otherwise than listen to her mother’s friend.  She was not ready to assert her own claims to happiness, and she drifted into a somewhat melancholy life of quiet service and sacrifice.         

 Anne’s mother had learned by experience that romantic love does not suffice as an adequate foundation for a happy relationship.  Yet Anne herself and Frederick Wentworth had been well-matched and seemed destined to love each other wholeheartedly.  Eventually Anne realizes that she has missed an opportunity to let Providence assist with her marriage.

Whether or not Anne’s decision had been wise or unwise, however, Providence is still present  – and here is where grace enters.  Through changing circumstances, Anne and Wentworth come to know their own strengths and weaknesses.  They learn to understand, appreciate, and value one another more deeply.  Wisdom takes hold of their relationship, and they are able to reach out to others in need as they mature.  One cannot doubt that Anne’s evolving perceptions and Wentworth’s unfolding perspective bode well for their marriage.  By delineating this example of the on-going grace of Providence, Austen reassures us of its trustworthy presence in our lives and its constant accessibility.

In Northanger Abbey, Austen refers to the peaceful order of the England in which she lived.  Although the passage is intended to playfully contrast England with other, perhaps more troubled European countries, a note of seriousness causes us to call to mind the biblical story of the house built on solid rock.  Unlike its counterpart (the house built on sand), it does not fall when storms beset it.  In England, Henry solemnly assures Catherine, their religious heritage provides protection for the individual.

Those persons who function with strength of character and clarity of mind can reach out to others and draw them to higher ground.  Thus Mr. Knightley can instruct the young Emma, who has the good sense to listen and apply his words to her life, altering her vision of charity to have at its core an appreciation of others’ wholeness and a respect for human dignity.  Similarly, Anne Elliot can serve as a beacon to Captain Wentworth as she demonstrates the power of a selfless love that addresses the needs of even her shallow and impulsive rival, Louisa.  In learning to set aside her deep desires and to sacrifice her own destiny, Anne has gained a steadfast and compassionate concern for others.  This is not insignificant.  It is the raw material for a stable society that protects its weakest members and restrains its most disruptive.

Austen does not need the embellishment of Gothic tropes to make evil emerge from the shadows.  There is no skeleton in the closet.  She simply sends a searchlight across the landscape, shifting back and forth among her characters, demonstrating the power of foolishness, often fueled by hidden vice, to disrupt and ruin the lives of ordinary people.  She does not need to exploit dramatic manifestations of evil.  It is enough to lead readers to discover unperceived fault lines in ordinary people and to hint at the power of such fissures to disrupt the moral framework of our lives.  

The happy endings of Austen’s novels reassure us that there is a greater One who is looking for opportunities to clear our tangled paths.  Like Anne Elliot, we, too, can cultivate inner peace and look beyond ourselves to a source of wisdom and benevolence.  The troubled romance of Lizzy and Darcy opens the door for them to grow in humility, wisdom, sacrifice, and compassion, thereby paving the way for a marriage based on integrity and trust.  Their personal crisis serves  as a catalyst to help them recognize deep personal need and to partake of grace.  It leads to redemption of the wayward and allows blessings to abound.  When Lizzy and Darcy marry, it is in the context of family members rescued from damaged lives.

Despite the shift in moral outlooks since Austen wrote Mansfield Park, the dilemmas of Fanny Price resonate in the modern world.  Fanny casts off the shackles of poverty only to exist alongside the corruption and emptiness of wealth.  She is surrounded by spiritual and intellectual wastelands, an ordinary person fighting extraordinary forces.  Although not exceptionally gifted, she is human and therefore in need of light by which to seek truth and virtue.  Being timid and lacking a strong sense of identity, her saving grace is that she manages to create a secluded space to retreat into and pursue her own interests and to think her own thoughts.  She fills a small abandoned classroom with books and plants, as well as knickknacks that are meaningful reminders of people who are dear to her.  These additions affirm life and soften the effects of her injuries.  It is her way of cultivating the wholeness she needs.  To preserve that wholeness, she seeks to maintain integrity.  She respects the journey of her soul.

Edmund visits her in this space to share his change of mind regarding the temptations of acting in a questionable home play.  He now thinks that participation in the play may be the lesser of two evils for both of them.  He leaves the room, allowing Fanny to return to contemplating her predicament and examining her conscience.  She understands the argument in favor of choosing the lesser of two evils but does not immediately embrace that option.  Fanny is agitated, attempting to forge her thoughts into strength for whatever she must face, while longing to be relieved of the pressure to compromise her moral values.  Fanny is tested further when she goes to witness the rehearsal, but she manages to avoid active participation (she will only read the script aloud as needed).  Soon, in the unexpected early return of Sir Thomas, the sea parts – to reveal her as having refused to act in the questionable play.  As readers, we have witnessed the workings of her inner being, especially Fanny’s consistent longing to be delivered from compromise.  We may infer that grace has been given to her by the One who sees all.    

It is not that Fanny has flawless judgment.  She begins to be attracted to her suitor Henry Crawford  before she learns that he has had an affair with Maria.  Austen informs us that if this had not been the case, Fanny might eventually have succumbed to his charms and married him.   Fortunately, she has adhered to her principles (she does not love him) long enough to be spared that fate.  Once more the seas have parted for Fanny Price, a young woman whose deepest desire appears to be to stay close to her Maker. 

I am reminded of the story of a woman who was imprisoned by the Communists and later by the Nazis during the World War II era.   She and a few other professional women confined in the Ravensbruck Nazi concentration camp managed to meet together to share their experiences.  One of them boosted the morale of the group with tales of her life as an ethnologist in Algeria.  The magnitude of their efforts to survive was far greater than that required by Fanny Price’s bleak circumstances, yet the method of survival was similar:  when hemmed in on every side, find a way to transcend circumstances and to renew one’s vision of worthwhile values and relationships.  The forces of evil relentlessly seek to plough under vast harvests of goodness, but a few seeds of truth preserved in the human consciousness can regenerate the earth.  A thin sliver of civilization may exist in the wasteland, and ordinary people can (and should) seek, recognize, and uphold it.  The Fanny Prices of the world may be quiet and unnoticed, and of course they are not perfect, but it is their integrity in seeking after higher truths that shines like rows of silver thread in the torn fabric of humanity.

Austen does not romanticize virtue in her protagonists.  Human frailty requires more than strength of character to overcome life’s challenges.  Reason, while helpful, is limited by our knowledge.  If there is a mystery in Austen’s novels, it is in the workings of divine grace, poured out to those who thirst for goodness and truth and who long for meaning.   

Austen’s perennial appeal is that the landscape of her novels is both realistic and ultimately hopeful, denying the last word to the forces of evil and hearing that word instead in the whispered truths of a higher power.  Her unparalleled greatness rests in her ability to evoke the reality of such a moral universe in the lives of the lowly.  Nuanced and precise, insightful and compassionate, she leads us to ponder human nature amid the workings of invisible grace.

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