Fanny Price is one of the most
boring heroines in literature. She is
always good, always correct, and it seems that her only faults lie in being too
timid and being too easily fatigued.
Edmund Bertram is one of the least
interesting heroes in literature. He is
sincere, intentional, and sober. His
primary shortcoming seems to be thinking the best of people and making the most
of bad circumstances.
But isn’t real life and real
goodness more like this duo? Do they not
refute our human tendency to buy into bright personalities, to follow
confidence, to love foolishly? Isn’t it
hard to draw the line between dying to self and giving in to the pressures of
those less wise?
How are good people to resist the
allure of reforming their lovers? How
are good people to judge accurately?
While simultaneously facing these
dilemmas and illustrating them, Fanny
Price and Edmund Bertram move through the excitement of new connections in the
small neighborhood that has been their comfortable home. Over and over again you see the heroine and
hero making mistakes because of the things that influence their
perspectives. They doubt
themselves. They deceive
themselves. They reproach
themselves. They deny themselves.
And all through the plot,
following paths merely tangential to each other, they’re getting a chance to
discover the value of each other’s steady, reverential characters. So when the events conspire to divide them
from all the temptation of flattery, charm, and attraction, little wonder they
proceed to fall in love with unsatisfactory brevity and with a felicity the
envy of all their foolish relations.
To God be all glory.