When Maria says goodbye to Henry for the last time before she marries Mr. Rushworth, the narrator captures Maria’s emotions via imagery:
She had not long to endure what arose from listening to language, which his actions contradicted, or to bury the tumult of her feelings under the restraint of society; for general civilities soon called his notice from her, and the farewell visit, as it then became openly acknowledged, was a very short one.—He was gone—he had touched her hand for the last time, he had made his parting bow, and she might seek directly all that solitude could do for her.
Evocative descriptions like “the tumult of her feelings” and “the restraint of society”—as well as the language of “seek[ing] directly all that solitude could do for her”—demonstrate the depth of Maria’s grief about losing Henry as a potential husband.
The intensity of the language also hints at how powerless women were in this time period. Maria is not allowed to propose to Henry despite desiring to marry him and has to accept Mr. Rushworth because she has no other guarantee of economic stability (thus her feeling of the “restraint of society”). She was hoping to marry for love and now must resign herself to marrying a man simply out of duty to her family.
When Henry is visiting Fanny during her stay with her nuclear family in Portsmouth near the end of the novel, Austen uses imagery and personification to capture the scene in front of them, as well as Fanny’s emotional state:
The day was uncommonly lovely. It was really March; but it was April in its mild air, brisk soft wind, and bright sun, occasionally clouded for a minute; and every thing looked so beautiful under the influence of such a sky, the effects of the shadows pursuing each other, on the ships at Spithead and the island beyond, with the ever-varying hues of the sea now at high water, dancing in its glee and dashing against the ramparts with so fine a sound, produced altogether such a combination of charms for Fanny, as made her gradually almost careless of the circumstances under which she felt them.
By describing in detail the loveliness of the day—with its “mild air, brisk soft wind, and bright sun” and “the ever-varying hues of the sea”—Austen suggests that Fanny is having a pleasant time with Henry, and possibly easing into the idea of his future presence in her life. The personification of the sea—described as “dancing in its glee and dashing against the ramparts”—likewise invites readers to imagine Fanny’s own spirited energy as she comes to consider Henry as a potential partner.
When Fanny is digesting the news that Henry and Maria had an affair immediately after he visited Fanny to prove his devotion to her, Austen uses imagery to capture her shock and horror:
Fanny seemed to herself never to have been shocked before. There was no possibility of rest. The evening passed, without a pause of misery, the night was totally sleepless. She passed only from feelings of sickness to shudderings of horror; and from hot fits of fever to cold. The event was so shocking, that there were moments even when her heart revolted from it as impossible—when she thought it could not be.
Austen’s language here—“without a pause of misery,” “from feelings of sickness to shudderings of horror,” “hot fits of fever to cold,” “her heart revolted”—engages readers’ imaginations, specifically moving them to feel at the sensory level what Fanny is experiencing alongside her.
This moment is important as it demonstrates how, despite Fanny’s declaration that she did not care for Henry, she was starting to soften toward him, thus making his indiscretion especially painful for her. She was just beginning to consider him the type of man she could marry when she was confronted with the reality she was always aware of—that he does not prioritize morality the way that she does.
When Fanny is visiting her family in Portsmouth near the end of the novel, Austen uses imagery to capture her unhappiness:
There was neither health nor gaiety in sun-shine in a town. She sat in a blaze of oppressive heat, in a cloud of moving dust; and her eyes could only wander from the walls marked by her father’s head, to the table cut and knotched by her brothers, where stood the tea-board never thoroughly cleaned, the cups and saucers wiped in streaks, the milk a mixture of motes floating in thin blue, and the bread and butter growing every minute more greasy than even Rebecca’s hands had first produced it.
The imagery of the “oppressive heat,” dirty tea-board, dishes “wiped in streaks,” old milk, and increasingly greasy bread and butter all communicate to readers that Fanny is displeased with her time in Portsmouth.
This moment also shows how Fanny’s class sensibilities have changed—her sense of what is proper is different than her nuclear family’s because she was raised in a wealthy estate in the country, while they live in a small home in the city. The imagery shows how Fanny feels trapped in this lower-middle-class home after ten years at Mansfield Park, where servants would likely have taken care of messes like the ones she describes.
