Austen’s Inferno

A Look into Austen’s Virgils and Her Damned

In Dante’s Inferno, punishment and justice is conceptualized as a form of amplifying one’s life in their afterlife. The violent, in turn, are “steeped” in “boiling blood” for “[striking] down their fellow men” (12.46-48); the heretical who “make the soul share in the body’s death” (10.15) lie buried eternally in burning tombs; individuals that valued not their bodily forms and have "[thrown] away" (13.105) the gift of their creation lose them and are turned into trees, "wounded soul[s]" (13.46) that are only allowed to express themselves with "words and blood together, gout by gout" (13.43). Furthermore, Dante punishes the sinners in hell with their limitations of present knowledge: “When things draw near, or happen, we [sinners] perceive / nothing of them… all we know / will be dead forever from that day and hour / when the Portal of the Future is swung to” (10.104-8). 

Yet what do all these notions of morality from The Inferno have to do with Austen? It is possible that Austen had read Dante’s Divine Comedy in Italian or as a translation. Austen’s work is also heavily influenced by Shakespeare, Johnson, Fielding, and other authors associated with Aristitilean thought and ethics (Kubic). Yet, where are the complex allusions and associations to his works? To Dante’s morality? Instead of allegorically deconstructing social issues under the guise of symbolism (a vain effort to disguise personal opinion), Austen grounded her literary works in reality. She routinely addressed overtly romantic thought, too, parodying overly-imaginative interpretations of reality with characters such as Charlotte in Northanger Abbey. 

Yet, in a similar light to Dante, Austen wrote moral tales “undoubtedly influenced by Christianity and... religious thought” (Kubic). She, following Aristotelian thought, structured her literary worlds as “ a highly ordered place—designed by God and structured according to the Great Chain of Being—and everyone had his or her designated place and was expected to fulfill a particular role” (White). With this hierarchitectitiptitoploftical perspective does Austen approach her work, ranking characters in the great order of her social being, condemning the unjust and the wicked to their variable layers of hell. Particularly villainous characters are often fed their demise not through some act of deus ex machina or tragic, Shakespearean-esque flaw, but through their misguided perception of their own goals and virtues. Austen’s characters, believing their actions to be a necessary ‘evil’ within the context of English society during the Regency period, find themselves performing actions for short term gains, often with long term negative consequences. Consequently, the villains of Austen’s novels are condemned through their own actions, amplifying the reader’s pity and understanding of their fate as, much like the sinners in Dante’s hell, they are eternally damned by the choices they have made. They are used as parables of morality for the various protagonists of her novels, who are guided by their subsequent ‘Virgils’ to moral and spiritual grace.

In Need of Leaden Cloaks

Lack of restraint and contentment is one of Austen’s cardinal sins. Two particular characters could act as Austen’s cardinal sinners: Willoughby (Sense and Sensibility) and Mr. Elliot (Persuasion). Of these, Willoughby stands as the most balanced, having Austen’s punishment served within the context of the narrative, while Mr. Elliot’s awareness of his actions amplifies the nature of his offense. Willoughby chases after Marianne with vehemence, goading her into believing him to be of equal, passionate affection, asserting that “[Dashwood Cottage] will always have one claim on [his] affection” (73) because of Marianne’s presence. He shows her around his home in Allenham privately, a breach in etiquette that further implies notions of marriage and substantial affection; Mrs. Jennings fallaciously remarks that one day the home in Allenham might be her own (68-69) believing Willoughby to act on this affection.

 However, after Willoughby’s immediate leave of them (77), his painful avoidance and dismissal of Marianne in London throughout the intermediate of the plot, and his ultimate defence of his own actions that all his attachments were “insufficient to outweigh that dread of poverty” (323), Elinor reprimands his “selfish” behavior in private consultation with Marianne. Elinor argues that Willoughby furthered only “his own ease… in every particular” as his “ruling principle.” More damning is his perpetually dissatisfied character that, without the distress of a financial burden, would only then find Marianne’s affection valuable; should he find “no complaint” with the temper of his wife, he would consider his financial status of more importance “even to domestic happiness” (351-2). Willoughby, in consequence, is damned to live a spiritually solitary life, devoid of the affectionate happiness he claims to have desired, yet took no actions to actualize. Instead, he is abandoned by a woman whom he supposedly truly loved, left to live a marriage devoid of affection, doomed to wear a leaden cloak of his hypocrisy.

Mr. Elliot, from Persuasion, harbors the same sin. Elliot, “better to look at than most men” (101), carries with him perfect etiquette. His “tone… expressions, choice of subject, his knowing where to stop,” (103) were all carefully crafted to make an “agreeable man.” Yet, Anne recognizes his limitations to openness: “[he] never [has] any burst of feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight” (116). Juxtaposed with Mrs. Smith’s characterization of him as a “man without heart of conscience… black at heart; hollow and black!” (144) and the crude language of his letter that vulgarly casts off his familial relations (147), Mr. Elliot descends comparative to the typically redeemable characters of Austen’s novels. Yet, he seems unpardonably cruel compared to Willoughby, until his motivations are taken into consideration. Mr. Elliot wishes to marry Anne as he is “gradually learning to pin his happiness upon the consequence he is heir to” (150). Thus, Mr. Elliot’s motivations and their mercurial nature parallel Willoughby's: they are endlessly dissatisfied. Yet they are far more cruel in their intentions. For Dante, intentionality is weighed with greater punishment in hell as he places greater weight on sins of choice rather than that of circumstance: “...incontinence offends God least and earns least blame from Justice and Charity,” compared to “malice” and “bestiality” (Alighieri 11.83-84). Thus, Willoughby has “proved [his] heart less wicked, much less wicked” (Austen 329-30) and draws pity from Elinor because, unlike Mr. Elliot, he does not recognize his sin. 

Lack of restraint is contrasted by just about all of Austen’s heroines, as temperance and contentment override as traits of virtue. Thus, the villains with these opposing traits naturally deserve to suffer within the context of the narrative while the heroine’s thrive on their restraint. Unlike Willoughby, though, Mr. Elliot is never severely punished by Austen. Abandoning his futile attempt with Anne and his non-profitable possibilities with Elizabeth, Mr. Elliot withdrew and was discovered for his “double game” (182) and duplicitous nature. Yet, no details regarding his fate, chance for repentance, or brutal retribution from the universe for his grievance were revealed. Instead, Mr. Elliot slithers away his existence, likely scheming once more. Still, Mr. Elliot is tossed aside, cast off from the narrative without redemption or pity, hopefully awaiting his fate to lie supinely with “no outlet for [his] tears / turn[ing] inward to increase [his] agonies” (Alighieri 33.95-96) with the fraudulent in Austen’s ice.

A Willful Blindfold

Lack of temperance, though a more grievous sin, is condemned in partnership with blind faith. Austen regularly criticizes members of the clergy in her work, limiting their roles and their supposedly devout practices. A character’s faith, despite being present in their actions, is rarely seen as a driving force in their conduct. Consequently, Austen criticizes the superficial nature of religious practice by priests during the Regency period. This criticism is strengthened considering Austen’s familial relations. George Austen was an ordained priest from the Church of England, where Jane would have been “thoroughly inculcated in the forms of Anglican spirituality.” She comes from a devoutly Anglican county of Hampshire, where Austen is estimated (conservatively) to have said the Lord’s Pray in “excess of 30,000 times” (Winckles). Thus, the parallels between Austen and Dante continue as they condemn the practices of the supposedly devout, christening their demise from their superior pedestals of morality.

Collins is the doomed fool in Pride and Prejudice. He is introduced as “not a sensible man,” filled with the “self-conceit of a weak head” and a mixture of pride, self-importance, and humility (63). He is exceptionally good at flattery and letter-writing, though his in-person social interactions leave awkward traces of missing intellect floating in partygoers’ silent indignations; his “conscientious and polite” (57) characterization by Mr. Bennet is undercut by his elongated over-formality when he “attack[s]” (89) people with his ‘civility’ (like Darcy). An elaborate, emotionless proposal that will greatly improve “[his] happiness” (97) is rejected by Elizabeth as he “could not make [her] happy” (98), further reducing his social status within the context of the novel. He ultimately succeeds in marrying Charlotte who wishes only for a “comfortable home” (115), where he proceeds to “be forgotten,” allowing Charlotte to be given “great and comfort throughout” (143) her situation. 

Besides the condemnation of Collins’s intelligence, Austen offers strong criticism regarding the notion of ‘forgiveness.’ Mr. Bennet, the beloved patriarch of the novel, reads a letter from Collins declaring that they must forgive Lydia and Wickham “as a Christian,” but never “admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing.” Mr. Bennett’s exclamation “That is his notion of Christian forgiveness!” (329) rejects the validity of Collins as a moral and ethical guide, and places characters of Austen’s notion of sensibility over the blind trust of church figures. 

Mr. Elton, from Emma, acts as a similarly comical, ignorant character, though filled with significantly more malevolence. His pursuit of Emma (comically believed to be the pursuit of Harriet from Emma’s perspective) is encouraged through his alcohol consumption (149). Mr. Elton tosses aside Harriet’s existence: “who can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near!” (150), pays no civil attention to individuals unless they offer him advancement, and proceeds to condescend in the entirety of the later half of the novel with his fiancé about any “shabby, and very inferior” affairs (465) associated with the assent of anyone besides himself; Mr. Elton abandons civility with Harriet at the ball in part 3 of Emma (324-5) and recedes into the company of his fiancé at Box hill (361-3). Austen plays off of Mr. Elton’s uncivil actions and compounds them with the cumbersome and socially elevated presence of Mrs. Elton. Her continued social breeches punish Emma as they “long, very long… occupy her” (282) after their first conversation and encounter. Emma concludes that she is “self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, and ill-bred” (283). The two Eltons compound each others’ vices, and create a tandem of ignorance as they, much like Collins from Pride and Prejudice, close the novel in a place of forgotten insignificance, recognized not for their superior character and upended socially by the assent of Mrs. Emma Knightley. 

In this respect, Austen’s novels diminish the practice of blind faith in religious figures in lieu of self-reflection, stoicism, and self-actualization. Virtues of independence, intellectual growth, and active kindness are prioritized over superficial labels, a seeming critique of religious structures of her time. Virtue requires practice “in the right place, at the right time, and with the right people” (Kubic), an Aristotilean idea that Austen employs to showcase that civility’s and virtue’s saturation is dependent on personal choice; people choose to be kind and ‘Christian’ to those even without social and economic benefit. Furthermore, this connects with Dante’s notion of the importance of the present. As mentioned earlier, the damned are disconnected with the present, living only with the knowledge of the past and future. Similarly, the Eltons and Collins willingly choose this fate, treating individuals as a means to advance financially and socially in their backward-faced future. Fitting of Austen’s and Dante’s ‘divine’ justice, this over-emphasis on the future disconnects them from the present and their goals, leading them to further self-deception as the characters have every opportunity to achieve spiritual and financial success, should they be willing to adapt to an image of the future that is not their own creation.

Like a Virgil

Willoughby and Mr. Elliot, as well as many of the other villains of Austen’s novels, do not meet their demise because of an isolated realization from the varied heroines. Instead, various ‘Virgils’ guide Austen’s protagonists to their salvation. More specifically, Austen’s salvation exists as the capacity for reflection and the willingness to adapt and change. Almost all of her heroines experience a sense of disillusionment where their confirmed biases are challenged, then shifted or abandoned: Catherine from Northanger abandons her overly romanticized notions from Radcliffe’s novels; Emma from Emma limits her matchmaking and reappraises the conservative, yet strong, nature of Mr. Knightley; Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice shift their own balance and proportion their own arrogances and assumptions their their guidance of each other; Mrs. Smith from Persuasion reanimates Anne’s love for Captain Frederick; Sense and Sensibility’s Elinor seems to actualize throughout the novel with no noticeable shift in virtues, but Marianne does experience that shift. All of these shifts occur with their own respective guides: each has their own ‘Virgil.’

For Anne in Persuasion, Mrs. Smith (the decaying almost-invalid) guides her to this realization. While Anne contained all the capacity to change within herself, it is through Mrs. Smith’s admiration, character, and interactions that Anne shifts her perception on Mr. Elliot. Mrs. Smith’s tale is not of whimsical circumstances but of endurance of illness. Her spirits “nearly failed” when her family was thrown into ruin as she grew into a “poor, infirm, helpless widow” and Anne’s reception was considered (socially) as “a favour” to the ailing woman. However, she spoke with “great openness” and revealed a resilient character that “weathered” illness, family decline, the death of her husband, and ultimately learned to benefit from the events spiritually as they have “done her good.” Anne’s reaction is one of praise, seeing her with increasing “astonishment” with each visit as her optimism is the “choicest gift of Heaven” (110-1), a benevolent characteristic deserving of all praise. Mrs. Smith, like many of the sisterly figures of Austen’s novels, guides Anne through the various perils of her matches. Through her guidance, Anne is able to achieve ‘salvation’ in her emotional attachment to Captain Wentworth and allowed to break social barriers and inconsistencies to isolate Mr. Elliot. 

In Sense and Sensibility, Elinor acts as this ‘Virgil’ figure for Marianne. Routinely guided with her kind reprimands, Elinor leaves Marianne to make her own mistakes after earlier, sterner attempts to redirect her behavior. After her visit to Willoughby’s home, she pleads that “pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety” (68). She retreats her efforts until forced to confront Marianne with Willoughby’s vulnerable confessions. Marianne receives advice from Elinor, that “I did not love only [Edward],” that she limited her speech for months “know[ing] that it would make [Marianne] and [their] mother most unhappy” should she bring up her grievances; that if Marianne should think her emotionless, that she has “suffered now” and is “very unhappy.” Marianne, subsequently, is “quite subdued” by this omission of vulnerability, exclaiming that she has been “barbarous” in her self-absorption and mecuriality (263-4). Finally, Marianne is guided, through Elinor’s persistent presence, to re-evaluate her temperance and reappraise Colonel Brandon’s character.

The Other Side

It would be foolish to conclude that Austen intentionally crafted her works to reflect Dante’s justice or his conceptualization of sin. If anything, this comparison helps support the significance and influence of Dante’s work, rather than Austen’s. However, looking at Austen’s work through Dante’s lens amplifies the moral parables within the text and distinguishes various features: some of Austen’s secondary characters (such as Marianne) can offer more moral consequence than the heroines themselves; literary retribution in the Regency era is far more nuanced yet equally counteracted by the sins as it was from Dante’s era; moral and spiritual guides do not have the same traits as the heroine, but offer the capacity to shift the heroine’s perspective. It should be noted, too, that this review is limited. Austen’s virtues and vices are present in all her characters, and ‘sinners’ of malevolence and deception (Isabella from Northanger Abbey; Wickham from Pride and Prejudice) or reflective ‘virgils’ found in the form of Darcy and Elizabeth (Pride and Prejudice; they guide each other to ‘salvation’) were not explored in this paper. 

However, it is clear that Dante’s Christian morality offers a framework of labels that contextualize Austen’s characters within their universe. Just as ‘hero’ and ‘villain’ are interpretive terms, ‘hell’ and ‘Virgil’ offer the capacity to mold and shift reader perspectives on Austen’s work. The terms provide clarity and elevate the importance of considering Austen’s opinion in her own work, work that is renowned for its temperate qualities and reserve. Thus, the condemnation of her various characters is an extension of Austen, much like Dante’s condemnation of various Greek figures. Further, Austen has created a set of works to combat the religious negligence of her period. Austen seemingly has created her own social bible, where sections of Persuasion could be quoted for moral guidance in the same manner a pious follower could quote John 3:16. And finally, should a member of the Regency period be looking for moral parables separate from the verses of the Bible, Austen has them covered. Whether Jane Austen intended to supplant the Bible itself, I leave it to be settled by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of her work be altogether to recommend orthodoxy, or reward literary heresy (Northanger Abbey 239). 

Works Cited

Alighieri, Dante. The Inferno. 1472. Translated by John Ciardi, New American Library, 1982.

Austen, Jane. Emma. 1815. Edited by Ronald Blythe, New York, Penguin Books, 1966.

Austen, Jane. Northanger Abbey. 1799. Edited by Claire Grogan, Peterborough, Ont., Broadview, 2000.

Austen, Jane, et al. Persuasion. 1817. New York, Modern Library, 2001.

Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. 1812. New York, Holt, Rinehart And Winston.

Austen, Jane. Sense and Sensibility. 1811. Third Edition ed., New York, Oxford University Press, June 1933.

Kubic, Amanda Marie. “Aristotelian Ethical Ideas in the Novels of Jane Austen.” Jane Austen Society of North America, 2015, jasna.org/publications-2/persuasions-online/vol36no1/kubic/. Accessed 24 Oct. 2021.

Winckles, Andrew. “Jane Austen’s Anglicanism by Laura Mooneyham White.” ABO: Interactive Journal for Women in the Arts, 1640-1830, vol. 3, no. 1, Apr. 2013, https://doi.org/http://dx.doi.org/10.5038/2157-7129.3.1.12.

By Pavel Tretyak

Written October 24, 2021

Last Edited March 9, 2023