On Captain Wentworth
“She prized the frank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others.” —Persuasion
I’ll begin this Forensic Sanditon endeavor by looking at Jane Austen’s heroes. What are they made of, what are they like? What do they have in common?
I’m always threatening to write an essay/post titled The Darcyification of Mr. Knightley—a rant against all the adaptations of Emma (books but also film) that take popular, amiable Mr. Knightley and give him the same (DYSFUNCTIONAL) personality as Darcy. (*ducks to avoid all the rotten fruit y’all are throwing at me*). I have lots to say about that, but that’s for another post. For now, what’s important is that, having re-read Persuasion, I’ve realized my essay needs a new title. It needs to be called The Darcyification of Mr. Knightley—and Wentworth.
Think about Captain Wentworth. Ask yourself: Do you picture him as
charming?
chatty?
cheerful?
If you said no to any of those (like I did), if you were imagining a broody, withdrawn sea captain (like I was), then I have news for you. That is the Darcyified version of Wentworth, and it is not right.
Here’s what we actually know about Wentworth:
a remarkably fine young man, with a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy. (Persuasion, ch. 4)
lucky in his profession (ch. 4)
his own decided, confident temper (ch. 7)
he was confident…full of life and ardour…He had always been lucky…Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and bewitching in the wit which often expressed it…brilliant…headstrong…wit…unbending… (ch. 4)
Confident, lucky, brilliant, and witty? Y’all this is the star quarterback in a YA romance novel.
But, ok ok, these are descriptions of Wentworth before his broken engagement. What did seven+ years of war and heartbreak do to the man?
His genius and ardour [there’s that word again!] had seemed to foresee and to command his prosperous path. (ch. 4)
The years…had only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in no respect lessening his personal advantages. She had seen the same Frederick Wentworth. (ch. 7)
i.e., He’s still a handsome, confident, brilliant, witty guy—and now he’s rich, too. Kinda like he said he’d be.
He’s also sociable and genial. The Musgroves are
delighted with their new acquaintance…There had been music, singing, talking, laughing…charming manners in Captain Wentworth, no shyness or reserve. (ch. 7)
In short, he had looked and said everything with such exquisite grace… (ch. 7)
…that Louisa and Henrietta (and me too) fell in love with him then and there.
Granted, he hasn’t called. In eight years.
Had he wished ever to see [Anne] again, he need not have waited till this time. (ch. 7)
Facts.
And he’s kinda horrible about Anne; he’s not perfect (Austen would never!).
Henrietta asked him what he thought of you [Anne], and he said “You were so altered he should not have known you again.” (ch. 7)
He doesn’t intend for Anne to hear that comment, but still—rude.
So He hasn’t forgiven Anne; there’s some resentfulness. He had his heart broken, and it’s still broken, in a way. But methinks he doth protest too much when we’re told that
except from some natural sensation of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again. Her power with him was gone for ever. (ch. 7)
Please. Even when he describes his ideal woman, he’s thinking of Anne—and proceeds to describe the opposite of [his idea of] her (ch. 7).
But for all that’s he’s a passionate man (“ardour”), he’s not overrun by his heartache. Compare him to Benwick (who is legitimately grieving)—inconsolable, lost, withdrawn. We don’t get a sense that Wentworth was ever quite like that. And now, regardless of whatever heartache he’s still nursing, Wentworth behaves with the same amiability that he’s always had.
In fact, he is chatty. REALLY CHATTY. We don’t get it all as dialogue, and it’s often filtered through Anne’s quiet indirect voice, but honestly, I was kind of floored to see how much Wentworth has to say. He is not a man of gruff, one-word answers. He speaks in jolly paragraphs.
I see another indication of Wenworth’s character in a description of Mr. Elliot:
Mr. Elliot…was not open. There was never any burst of feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight…This, to Anne, was a decided imperfection…She prized the frank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others. (ch. 17)
If this is what Anne admires most, then I think we can assume this must be what Wentworth is. Eager. Open. Ardour. Wit.
Yes, Wentworth is wounded and heartbroken, and he has some moments of vindictiveness and pensiveness. But he’s mostly a delight. He’s amiable, properly social. He’s happy to come to your dinner party. He’s not sitting on the sidelines (MR. DARCY). He’ll join in the fun—talking, dancing, music, etc. He’s even happy to be the center of attention. He’s the kind of guy who can cheer up both the physically wounded (Harville) and emotionally wounded (Benwick). He’s not sad. He’s not quiet. He’s not reserved. He’s fun to be around.
Let’s say we were to put Austen’s heroes in a line, ordered by personality. Let’s put Mr. Darcy at one end of the line—broody, silent, proud (y’all, I do end up loving Mr. Darcy, don’t worry! But he’s so fun to make fun of, too 😄). And let’s put Henry Tilney at the other end—chatty, witty, approachable. Wentworth is, to me, much, much closer to Tilney than Darcy. And that’s something to consider when I start looking closely at Sanditon.
I also want to say this: Because Persuasion is Austen’s most mature work, I tend to assign more weight to her craft in that novel. The fact that she writes this kind of hero this late in her career is going to matter to me when I look at the next hero she created, Sidney Parker.
Itinerary Notes
I’m hankering to read Emma now (tho when am I not?), but I’m worried that if I don’t read my lesser-favorite novels at the beginning of this little endeavor, I never will. So I better head over to Mansfield Park.