Read-along – Persuasion (0 of 4)

Dissuading Fanny Knight

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch-hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage . . .

Some of us have just finished reading the first instalment of Anna Karenina . . . and for some of us, today is also the day we start reading Persuasion by Jane Austen!

If you would like to join us, we’ll read Chapters 1-7 this week and we’ll discuss them next Friday 7th February.

Our full reading schedule and all the other details are here.

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Before we begin, I thought it might be useful to mention a piece of context, which Gillian Beer discusses brilliantly in the introduction to the Penguin edition.

Amanda Root as Anne Elliot in the 1995 BBC adaptation

At the end of November 1814, Jane Austen — about to turn 40 years old — wrote a letter to her 21-year-old niece Fanny Knight, dissuading her from a lengthy engagement. Austen had previously praised her niece’s suitor and Fanny had taken this as encouragement to accept him, a situation that frightened Austen ‘out of her wits’.

In her letter, she urges Fanny to depend upon her ‘own feelings’ alone but goes on to question Fanny’s commitment – ‘you like him well enough to marry, but not well enough to wait’ – and to describe her feelings as ‘very cool’. She predicts how ‘full of temptation the next six or seven years of your life will probably be’ and above all she wishes her niece to avoid committing herself where she does not truly love. ‘That is a punishment which you do not deserve.’

But as Gillian Beer asks, ‘What if she was wrong? . . . What if Fanny pined, resentfully or high-mindedly, after the breakup?’

Persuading a person on a certain course always points forward into actions not yet accomplished. It loops in possible futures, necessary fictions. It is full of risk, since the outcome of actions cannot be entirely constrained.

A few months later, in early 1815, Austen began writing a new novel, which came to be called Persuasion. As Beer says,

The doubts and troubles in this episode cast curious lights across the struggles in Persuasion. . . . In this, her last completed novel, written at a time when she was already beginning to feel the symptoms and premonitions of her fatal illness, Jane Austen describes the aftermath of a severed engagement.

Does Austen’s novel defend the position she took with Fanny? Or apologise for it? Or did the incident simply give her the idea for a most romantic premise?

We can discuss as we read along! I look forward to our first conversation next Friday.

In case it’s of interest, here below is the full text of Austen’s letter, with the key paragraphs in bold.

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23 Hans Place: Wednesday (Nov. 30, 1814).

I am very much obliged to you, my dear Fanny, for your letter, and I hope you will write again soon, that I may know you to be all safe and happy at home.

Our visit to Hendon will interest you, I am sure, but I need not enter into the particulars of it, as your papa will be able to answer almost every question. I certainly could describe her bedroom, and her drawers, and her closet, better than he can, but I do not feel that I can stop to do it. I was rather sorry to hear that she is to have an instrument; it seems throwing money away. They will wish the twenty-four guineas in the shape of sheets and towels six months hence; and as to her playing, it never can be anything.

Her purple pelisse rather surprised me. I thought we had known all paraphernalia of that sort. I do not mean to blame her; it looked very well, and I dare say she wanted it. I suspect nothing worse than its being got in secret, and not owned to anybody. I received a very kind note from her yesterday, to ask me to come again and stay a night with them. I cannot do it, but I was pleased to find that she had the power of doing so right a thing. My going was to give them both pleasure very properly.

I just saw Mr. Hayter at the play, and think his face would please me on acquaintance. I was sorry he did not dine here. It seemed rather odd to me to be in the theatre with nobody to watch for. I was quite composed myself, at leisure for all the agitation Isabella could raise.

Now, my dearest Fanny, I will begin a subject which comes in very naturally. You frighten me out of my wits by your reference. Your affection gives me the highest pleasure, but indeed you must not let anything depend on my opinion; your own feelings, and none but your own, should determine such an important point. So far, however, as answering your question, I have no scruple. I am perfectly convinced that your present feelings, supposing you were to marry now, would be sufficient for his happiness; but when I think how very, very far it is from a “now,” and take everything that may be into consideration, I dare not say, “Determine to accept him;” the risk is too great for you, unless your own sentiments prompt it.

You will think me perverse perhaps; in my last letter I was urging everything in his favour, and now I am inclining the other way, but I cannot help it; I am at present more impressed with the possible evil that may arise to you from engaging yourself to him — in word or mind — than with anything else. When I consider how few young men you have yet seen much of; how capable you are (yes, I do still think you very capable) of being really in love; and how full of temptation the next six or seven years of your life will probably be (it is the very period of life for the strongest attachments to be formed), — I cannot wish you, with your present very cool feelings, to devote yourself in honour to him. It is very true that you never may attach another man his equal altogether; but if that other man has the power of attaching you more, he will be in your eyes the most perfect.

I shall be glad if you can revive past feelings, and from your unbiassed self resolve to go on as you have done, but this I do not expect; and without it I cannot wish you to be fettered. I should not be afraid of your marrying him; with all his worth you would soon love him enough for the happiness of both; but I should dread the continuance of this sort of tacit engagement, with such an uncertainty as there is of when it may be completed. Years may pass before he is independent; you like him well enough to marry, but not well enough to wait; the unpleasantness of appearing fickle is certainly great; but if you think you want punishment for past illusions, there it is, and nothing can be compared to the misery of being bound without love — bound to one, and preferring another; that is a punishment which you do not deserve.

I know you did not meet, or rather will not meet, to-day, as he called here yesterday; and I am glad of it. It does not seem very likely, at least, that he should be in time for a dinner visit sixty miles off. We did not see him, only found his card when we came home at four. Your Uncle H. merely observed that he was a day after “the fair.” He asked your brother on Monday (when Mr. Hayter was talked of) why he did not invite him too; saying, “I know he is in town, for I met him the other day in Bond St.” Edward answered that he did not know where he was to be found. “Don't you know his chambers?” “No.”

I shall be most glad to hear from you again, my dearest Fanny, but it must not be later than Saturday, as we shall be off Monday long before the letters are delivered; and write something that may do to be read or told. I am to take the Miss Moores back on Saturday, and when I return I shall hope to find your pleasant little flowing scrawl on the table. It will be a relief to me after playing at ma’ams, for though I like Miss H. M. as much as one can at my time of life after a day’s acquaintance, it is uphill work to be talking to those whom one knows so little.

Only one comes back with me to-morrow, probably Miss Eliza, and I rather dread it. We shall not have two ideas in common. She is young, pretty, chattering, and thinking chiefly, I presume, of dress, company, and admiration. Mr. Sanford is to join us at dinner, which will be a comfort, and in the evening, while your uncle and Miss Eliza play chess, he shall tell me comical things and I will laugh at them, which will be a pleasure to both.

I called in Keppel Street and saw them all, including dear Uncle Charles, who is to come and dine with us quietly to-day. Little Harriot sat in my lap, and seemed as gentle and affectionate as ever, and as pretty, except not being quite well. Fanny is a fine stout girl, talking incessantly, with an interesting degree of lisp and indistinctness, and very likely may be the handsomest in time. That puss Cassy did not show more pleasure in seeing me than her sisters, but I expected no better. She does not shine in the tender feelings. She will never be a Miss O’Neil, more in the Mrs. Siddons line.

Thank you, but it is not settled yet whether I do hazard a second edition. We are to see Egerton to-day, when it will probably be determined. People are more ready to borrow and praise than to buy, which I cannot wonder at; but though I like praise as well as anybody, I like what Edward calls “Pewter,” too. I hope he continues careful of his eyes and finds the good effect of it. I cannot suppose we differ in our ideas of the Christian religion. You have given an excellent description of it. We only affix a different meaning to the word evangelical.

Yours most affectionately,
J. AUSTEN.

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I hope you enjoy the first chapters of Persuasion. I look forward to discussing them with you!

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Here are links to our previous Persuasion posts:

• The Schedule (8 January)

• Jane Austen (24 January)

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