Thankfully the author doesn’t attempt to prove that Austen had one and only proper model either of nature, picturesque or estate, but rather moves above the usual discourse, demonstrating instead how freely and confidently Austen used the late 18^th century concepts of landscape in order to show danger or refuge, and desirable or dreaded situations and characters. It’ll help you to better understand both the idea of picturesque and Austen’s novels.

The book is expensive, but likely available from your library. However, if you can afford it, it’s well worth having. Check it either at Amazon UK or Amazon US.

Highly recommended!

Elinor expresses similar sentiments when she answers Marianne’s queries about Edward:

“I do not attempt to deny,” said she, “that I think very highly of him — that I greatly esteem, that I like him.”

Marianne here burst forth with indignation –

“Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again and I will leave the room this moment.” Elinor could not help laughing.

“Excuse me,” said she, “and be assured that I meant no offence to you, by speaking, in so quiet a way, of my own feelings. Believe them to be stronger than I have declared; believe them, in short, to be such as his merit, and the suspicion — the hope of his affection for me may warrant, without imprudence or folly. But farther than this you must not believe. I am by no means assured of his regard for me. There are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful; and till his sentiments are fully known, you cannot wonder at my wishing to avoid any encouragement of my own partiality, by believing or calling it more than it is. In my heart I feel little — scarcely any doubt of his preference. But there are other points to be considered besides his inclination. He is very far from being independent. What his mother really is we cannot know; but, from Fanny’s occasional mention of her conduct and opinions, we have never been disposed to think her amiable; and I am very much mistaken if Edward is not himself aware that there would be many difficulties in his way, if he were to wish to marry a woman who had not either a great fortune or high rank.”

Sadly, not even Elinor’s cautiousness spared her misery.

To help you compare them, you can still see the old one at the Repository. If I change this one I’ll change the other too, but for now they differ.

Vote here:

ETA: Thank you all for your votes. There was a tie, so I returned to the old theme.

In fact the romantic notion of love and marriage revived because people became more concerned with religion than they were in the 17th century. Yet, it doesn’t mean that they ceased to care about the prudential aspect of it. Parents took care that their daughters met only those gentlemen they could marry without degradation. In other words they were free to fall in love with the men they knew, but the group of the men they were allowed to meet was limited in advance.

The upper classes though, like Lady Catherine and Lady Anne, Darcy’s mother, still viewed marriage as business. Darcy would grow up with the expectation to marry into wealth and connections as his duty. When he marries Elizabeth he does what’s moral, but not what he should as a good and responsible master of Pemberley.

Forcing marriage without love was considered deeply immoral, as well as entering such a marriage willingly. A range of very different authors from Daniel Defoe, Mary Wollstonecraft to Charlotte Turner Smith called it legalised prostitution. Actually Defoe was even harsher, calling it matrimonial whoredom. Austen gives us her own moral view on the matter in The Three Sisters via a very cold description of a woman prostituting herself in such a marriage by having her boldly state her price, as well as in Pride and Prejudice, where Elizabeth expresses Austen’s thoughts in her reaction to Charlotte’s decision. Charlotte is said to have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage, and through the disgrace sunk in Elizabeth’s esteem. Later, Elizabeth tells Jane: You shall not, for the sake of one individual, change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade yourself or me that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of danger, security for happiness.

Austen’s “principle” usually refers to “religious principle”.

That is a strong reaction, far stronger than in the case of Lydia’s elopement. But Lydia did not sin, she loved and believed she was going to be married. She was foolish, but her failure was on the grounds of the mores of the society rather than  Christianity. Just half a century earlier she would be considered legally married.

Jane tries to defend Charlotte, saying: be ready to believe, for every body’s sake, that she may feel something like regard and esteem for our cousin, but Austen leaves us no doubt that Charlotte feels none of it. In fact it is clear that Charlotte would rather have Collins’s money without the man himself.

As much as Lizzy’s perspective isn’t always right, and indeed she is wrong thinking that Charlotte will be miserable, her moral views are properly formed and never change, and so her judgement of the moral aspect of Charlotte’s deed is universal. Moreover, in Charlotte’s case, Austen concurs with her heroine by adding the narrator’s opinion, letting us know that Elizabeth judged Charlotte properly while failing to do the same with Wickham (emphasis mine):

The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady to whom [Wickham] was now rendering himself agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in his case than in Charlotte’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence.

Charlotte’s case is exactly the opposite to Lydia’s. She made a respectable marriage in the eyes of the society, but in the eyes of God she’s not married at all. As long as she lives she may be content with her house and poultry, but she has sinned, she is going to spend the rest of her life in sin, and she’ll be punished after she dies.

Defoe explains that a single fornication is a much lesser failure than marriage without love. One can fornicate and stop, regret one’s actions and never repeat them again. By entering a loveless marriage one is going to prostitute oneself for the rest of one’s life.

Of course people might reason that any kind of affection or regard would suffice, and no doubt many did. After all one might say that one cares for one’s cousin for example. But that is simply hypocrisy, and in one’s heart one would still know that it is just cheating. Yet, vowing love to one person while loving another was considered even worse. In such a case one could not cheat even oneself, and such people are punished by Austen yet during their life.

It is Austen’s genius to give us Charlotte, a nice, reasonable woman, who commits the sin, rather than a villain, as she does in case of many other characters. Another woman who was guilty of the same was Eliza Williams, Brandon’s first love, and she did end up a prostitute. Maria Bertram became an adulteress in effect of a similar decision. And, who knows, perhaps Willoughby was a murderer in the making. In Charlotte’s case though, as well as in Lucy Steele’s, Austen is realistic. Such marriages have always happened, and at least some of them could be successful on the prudential side, even though they were sinful. Charlotte is reasonable enough to keep up the appearances. After all she married in order to improve her social standing.

Naturally, Austen, as every author concerned with morals, shows the ideal that people should live up to, and criticises their failures. Practice hardly ever lives up to either Christian or other morality. Many people still married for money, and many were known to look for passion elsewhere. Only when a man brought his mistress to his house it could cause the society’s censure. Austen is ever aware of the duplicity of her contemporaries.

Below are various quotes on marriage from modern sources, compiled by Sue in her Regency Encyclopaedia:

Laurence Stone   -   The Family, Sex & Marriage in England 1500-1800
Penguin Books (1979)

The median age at first marriage for women was 22 or 23 in the 18th century.

The median age at first marriage for heirs of the English squirarchy was 27-29 in the late 18th to early 19th centuries.

On average in the 18th century, younger sons were marrying in their early to middle 30s although their brides were some 10 years younger.

Among the plebs, the age of marriage of the middle and lower classes of both sexes was remarkably late.

After 1780, romantic love became a respectable motive among the propertied classes.

Foreign observers had no doubt that by the second half of the 18th century, there was a clear trend to companionate marriages, particularly in the upper and the lowest levels of society.

Robert B. Shoemaker   -   Gender in English Society 1650-1850
Pearson Education Limited (1998)

One can detect in the social conservatism following the French Revolution the elaboration of an image of wives providing in their homes a safe haven for their husbands away from the corruption and vexations of public life.

Because the property came from their fathers and daughters played such a minor role in negotiations, it is not surprising that upper class brides were younger, both absolutely and in relation to the age of the groom, than in marriages where less property was at stake.

Although in recent years historians have stressed the important and possibly increasing role played by affect and love, practical considerations may have been more important, with loving relationships often resulting from marriage rather than leading to it. It was the sex with the more secure economic position which could most afford to look for other qualifications in a spouse. In particular, men wanted someone who would run a household for them.

It’s been suggested that marriages of affection were most common among the lower class where spouses were most likely to be the same age and women’s joint participation in bread winning placed them in partnership with their husbands.

Love and companionship could characterize middle class marriages, especially where husband and wife shared firmly held religious or mercantile values, and affection and loving familiarity between spouses shine through many of the gentry’s correspondence.

There is strong evidence of mutual affection from the higher classes in marriage.

Not only did men and women often not get married until they were in their late 20s, but high mortality led to a marital breakdown rate of a similar magnitude to that created by the large number of divorces today.

Rosemary Baird   -   Mistress of the House, Great Ladies and Grand Houses
Phoenix (2003)

It was not until 1780 that most of the propertied classes in any way thought of accepting romance rather than land as the basis for marriage.

By the late 18th century it was often said that if a man wanted the new ideal of a ‘companionate’ marriage, he needed a well-read wife.

In an age when to be a spinster had little status and less glamour, a husband provided social acceptability, family, a sense of purpose, and often the added advantages of love, affection and companionship.

Sharon Laudermilk & Teresa L. Hamlin   -   The Regency Companion
Garland Publishing (1989)

Misalliances were considered base. A girl should marry to increase her social consequence and thereby her family’s. And certainly she should never marry beneath her. Matches between men and women of unequal social standing were threats to the rigid structure of society.

This was not true of matches between personages of unequal fortunes. In an era where women had few options outside marriage, husband hunting constituted an honorable trade. A portionless miss of good family and high rank had a duty to seek out an eligible party.

Men were also hopeful that their future spouse would bring a substantial sum to their union and this, of course, made the possibility of an eligible offer for a beautiful girl of little fortune small.

Some marriages where based on true affection, but is was a practical age. One was expected to look for pleasure outside an unsatisfactory marriage.

Of supreme importance was the continuance of a gentleman’s name and the debt he owed his family. If his family was facing financial ruin or hardship, it was his duty to marry money no matter how unattractive the package in which it came wrapped.

Should the young beau be the heir to a great name, he was expected to dedicate himself to the future of his family. It was his duty to get an heir of his body to preserve the line. Younger sons could go wild on the town and dissipate their time, wealth & health. The heir must marry and reproduce.

It was not unusual in fashionable marriages for husbands and wives to go their separate ways after a male child was born.

The cynical matches of marriages between fortunes and great estates still existed in the upper ten thousand, but love matches were common and in most cases considered all the crack.

An alliance arranged by Regency parents with or without the child’s consent was not uncommon among the great families in the upper ten thousand. The well-endowed heirs and heiresses were the least free to choose where to bestow their hearts and hands.

Even with the freedom to make their own choice, many a beau and miss were tempted to look as high as they could for a match.

With the fashionable who were not confined and restricted by a great estate, the desire to make a match with affection at its base was considered to marital felicity. This compatible affection need not be a deathless passion but merely a comfortable tolerance to make a marriage of convenience an agreeable enterprise.

Marriages of convenience could be based on many different reasons. A young lady might feel it necessary to sacrifice herself on the altar of family duty by marrying a man of means who could settle an improvident sire’s gambling debts. It might also be convenient for a titled young blood to marry the heiress of the great estate that bordered his own country estate.

Younger sisters and brothers were looked on by the head of the family as elements to be guided by him (in regards to marriage partners) to insure the family’s power and wealth.

Posted in Charlotte, Collins, Darcy, Eliza Williams, Elizabeth, Jane, Lady Anne, Lady Catherine, Lucy Steele, Lydia, Maria Bertram, Miss Stanhope, Wickham, Willoughby Tagged: anglican marriage, Austen, Charlotte Turner Smith, christian marriage, daniel defoe, Darcy, defoe, Elizabeth Bennet, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Austen, Jane Bennet, Lady Catherine, Lizzy, Lizzy Bennet, love, loveless marriage, marriage, Mary Wollstonecraft, mercenary marriage, Miss Bennet, Mr. Collins, Mr. Darcy, Pride and Prejudice, regency, Wollstonecraft ]]> http://austenette.wordpress.com/2009/06/12/loveless-marriage/feed/ 6 Sylwia LizzyCharlotteMrCollins-01 Written by Sylwia Bookmark and Share http://austenette.wordpress.com/2009/06/04/creative-spaces-victoria-and-albert-museum/ http://austenette.wordpress.com/2009/06/04/creative-spaces-victoria-and-albert-museum/#comments Thu, 04 Jun 2009 05:41:48 +0000 Sylwia http://austenette.wordpress.com/?p=836 ]]> If you like researching artefacts an account at Creative Spaces is a thing for you.

Creative Spaces connects you with nine UK national museums and galleries, allowing you to explore and comment on collections, upload your own content, and build and share collections with others.

Creative Spaces | Home | Victoria and Albert Museum.

Due to its being a new beta feature I managed to register there with my real name: Sylwia

.

The blog’s author says:

Here I’ll be sharing my thoughts of other gardens, old recipes and garden writers with you, from William Lawson via Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte to Nancy Mitford.

Landscape gardens were one of the major features of Jane Austen’s England. It was more than a nice place to stroll. It was a philosophy of the 18th century life.

The neoclassical architecture was thought to be bringing one closer to  nature, as opposed to the medieval one that fortified one against it. Austen, the devoted fan of William Gilpin, was ever aware of it.

Pemberley is a prime example of an estate owned by a man who embraced the new worldview. Darcy’s house, perfectly situated when looking at it from the outside, opens to the park when looking from the inside. Every window offers a different point of view on the surrounding scenery. The windows of the saloon open to the ground, leading directly to the lawn outside. Indeed, at Pemberley the lines between the house and the garden blur, and by extension the man and his estate become one. The quiet elegance of his rooms speaks of his taste, just as the informality of his grounds speaks of his manners and mind.

To Elizabeth to be mistress of Pemberley means to be mistress of Darcy’s heart.

My English Country Garden Blog flashes out the details that would be so familiar to Austen’s contemporary reader. The various kinds of plants, their scent, colours, forms, meaning and history described with gardener’s taste and intuition create splendid images of the haunts our favourite heroines and heroes were fond of so much.

Mary Wollstonecraft by John Opie

Mary Wollstonecraft, an eighteenth-century writer, philosopher, and feminist, hardly needs introductions. The Regency Writings Repository is now enriched of her political pamphlet A Vindication of the Rights of Men, in a Letter to the Right Honourable Edmund Burke; Occasioned by His Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790) in which she argues against aristocracy and in favour of republicanism. She invokes an emerging middle-class ethos in opposition to the vice-ridden aristocratic code of manners.

The first edition of the Rights of Men sold out in three weeks, and was reviewed by every major periodical of the day. However, with the appearance of the second edition that carried Wollstonecraft’s real name on the title page the reviews began to evaluate the text not only upon its content but also as the work of a female writer. Wollstonecraft’s “passion” was contrasted with Burke’s “reason” and the text and its female author were spoken of condescendingly.

The Rights of Men is well worth reading for the familiar themes known from Austen’s novels.

ETA: I edited to add several links, among others to a short biography at the Jane Austen Centre’s webpage that contains this quote:

Early in 1797 [Wollstonecraft] was married to William Godwin, a philosopher who was notorious for his rejection of romance and marriage. Though they had sworn not to get married, the feminist and the enemy of matrimony were wedded at Saint Pancras’ Church and settled into conjugal happiness. At least in private, Godwin was prepared to admit the force of emotion as well as of thought. Both Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin seemed – at last – to have found the emotional happiness and intellectual kinship they both sought, which made what was to come seem unbearably cruel.

On September 10, 1797, at the age of thirty-eight, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin succumbed to puerperal fever after the birth of her daughter. Having survived so many difficult situations, she died when she had so much to live for.

After her death, Godwin wrote to a friend, “I firmly believe there does not exist her equal in the world. I know from experience we were formed to make each other happy. I have not the least expectation that I can now ever know happiness again.”

Read about Jane Austen and Mary Wollstonecraft:

• A Feminist Connection: Jane Austen and Mary Wollstonecraft by Miriam Ascarelli at Jasna
• The Rationality and Femininity of Mary Wollstonecraft and Jane Austen by Rachel Evans (pdf)
• THE NEW FEMININE RHETORIC: WOLLSTONECRAFT, AUSTEN, AND THE FORMS OF ROMANTIC-ERA FEMINISM by Elisabeth L. Guyon (pdf)
• Mary Wollstonecraf, Mary Shelley, and Other Contemporaries of Jane Austen at A Male Voices Web Page
• Jane Austen, Jane Fairfax, and Jane Eyre by Jocelyn Harris
• Jane Austen and Mary Wollstonecraft on the Proper Conduct and Education of Young Ladies
• Mary Wollstonecraft at the Jane Austen Centre

Godmersham House

However, it’s always interesting to see the old houses, since they provide examples of the norm back then. For more information and pictures from Godmersham House see Chris Coyle’s article in Jane Austen’s Regency World.

Olde Fashioned is a young, talented artist who breathed new life in his drawings, turning them into beautiful wallpapers and icons.

The famous letters of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wentworth were reproduced by her in the Jane Austen font and combined with relevant Brock’s illustrations, in order to create exquisite wallpapers to Janeites’ heart content.

Will You Do Me the Honour...

He Placed It Before Anne...

Olde Fashioned created many gorgeous icons. Some of them you might have already seen, as I eagerly use them to illustrate my posts. Here’s just a teaser, but you’ll find many more at her LiveJournal.

If you browse other categories at her blog you’ll be rewarded with beautiful icons and wallpapers from the Regency era, including fashion plates and paintings.

This one is adorable.

Not Just a Thing of the Past

I like to think Elizabeth Bennet was similar to that lady.

If you find them to your liking remember to let Olde Fashioned know about your choice and give her all the credit that’s her due. I’m simply overjoyed and thankful that those less talented among us can be granted access to such wonderful works.

If you’re looking for more illustrations by Brock, you’ll find a thorough collection of them at Solitary Elegance. Pride and Prejudice is coming soon. I can’t wait!

Miss Stanhope takes no pains to conceal her motives while negotiating her price:

“You must build me an elegant Greenhouse and stock it with plants. You must let me spend every Winter in Bath, every Spring in Town, Every Summer in taking some Tour, and every Autumn at a Watering Place, and if we are at home the rest of the year (Sophy and I laughed) You must do nothing but give Balls and Masquerades. You must build a room on purpose and a Theatre to act Plays in. The first Play we have shall be Which is the Man, and I will do Lady Bell Bloomer.”

Which is the Man is a play by Hannah Cowley about a fascinating widow who cannot make up her mind among several admirers.

In 1787 Austen’s family considered performing it at Steventon. Although other plays ended up being performed then, Austen was well familiar with Cowley’s plays, and quoted lines from them in her letters.

You can read it in Austenette’s Repository. Follow the link Which is the Man

Darcy comes to Rosings around Palm Sunday (likely Monday, since Darcy, unlike Mr. Elliot, wouldn’t travel on Sunday), that commemorates the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem in the days before his Passion.

In this quiet way, the first fortnight of her visit soon passed away. Easter was approaching, and the week preceding it was to bring an addition to the family at Rosings, which in so small a circle must be important. Elizabeth had heard, soon after her arrival, that Mr. Darcy was expected there in the course of a few weeks, and though there were not many of her acquaintance whom she did not prefer, his coming would furnish one comparatively new to look at in their Rosings parties, and she might be amused in seeing how hopeless Miss Bingley’s designs on him were, by his behaviour to his cousin, for whom he was evidently destined by Lady Catherine; who talked of his coming with the greatest satisfaction, spoke of him in terms of the highest admiration, and seemed almost angry to find that he had already been frequently seen by Miss Lucas and herself.

He calls on Elizabeth at once, but then avoids her for the remainder of Holy Week (the last week of Lent) that is supposed to be spent on recollections and self-denial.

COLONEL Fitzwilliam’s manners were very much admired at the parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings. It was some days, however, before they received any invitation thither, for while there were visitors in the house they could not be necessary; and it was not till Easter-day, almost a week after the gentlemen’s arrival, that they were honoured by such an attention, and then they were merely asked on leaving church to come there in the evening. For the last week they had seen very little of either Lady Catherine or her daughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen at church.

No doubt on Good Friday.

The invitation was accepted of course, and at a proper hour they joined the party in Lady Catherine’s drawing room.

Darcy and Elizabeth at Rosings on Easter Sunday

It is Easter Sunday now, the day of Resurrection. During her visit at Rosings Lizzy ascertains that Darcy isn’t interested in Anne de Bourgh, while Darcy makes the most important decision in his life: he decides to propose to Elizabeth. He no longer runs away from her. On the contrary.

“I am not afraid of you,” said he, smilingly.

He calls on her on the next day, and will continuously court her for nearly two first weeks of the Easter Season. In the meantime he puts off his departure from Rosings.

Exactly two weeks after Maundy Thursday, the day that commemorates four events:

1. the washing of the Disciples’ Feet by Jesus Christ,
2. the institution of the Mystery of the Holy Eucharist at the Last Supper,
3. the agony of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane,
4. and the betrayal of Christ by Judas,

four parallel events take place:

1. Darcy is betrayed by Colonel Fitzwilliam who tells Elizabeth that Darcy separated Bingley from Jane,
2. Darcy agonises over his choice: proposal to Elizabeth against his duty, better judgement, family expectations. (In vain he has struggled),
3. Darcy calls on Elizabeth during the tea held at Rosings in order to propose Holy Matrimony,
4. Darcy, who already meant to humiliate himself by the marriage, is humbled by her refusal.

The Agony in the Garden is the first Sorrowful Mystery of the Rosary (Rose Garden), it is then fitting that all of the events take place in Rosings Park. Roses encompass so many meanings, from the beautiful flowers to thorns; rose-bed, Wars of the Roses, compass rose, virtue, ease, success, bed of roses, or secrecy, strict confidence to name just a few.

Naturally I don’t mean to suggest that Darcy is an incarnation of Jesus, but the analogy shows the importance of Darcy’s reformation. Easter is a symbol of new life.

I have seen it said that Darcy could have fallen in love with someone else and be as happy as with Elizabeth. A view that strongly goes against the grain of the novel.

It is important that Elizabeth is who she is, with her tiny dowry, lack of connections and awful relatives. It doesn’t matter for her that he is rich, but it’s of utmost significance for him that she’s such a nobody.

Darcy is a decent man, but he’s guilty of pride, the worst of seven deadly sins. His pride is built on some of the worst premises possible: his wealth, connections acquired by birth, and his father’s achievements. Nothing speaking of his own true merit.

This kind of pride doesn’t show in every circumstances, and doesn’t bother in many. His people still would be glad that he takes good care of them, his family and friends would be content with his style of life. Why then is it so bad? Worse than fornication, theft, and even murder.

In his struggles Darcy shows signs of idolatry. He puts earthly goods over God’s law, forgetting that at the heaven’s door everyone is bare. As Mr. Collins said, Darcy is “one of the most illustrious personages in this land”, “blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of mortal can most desire, — splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage”. The problem with pride, the improper kind of it, is that proud people are ashamed to do what is right when they stand before the risk of humiliation. They will not endanger the source of their pride lightly. They follow false gods, and Darcy is guilty of it during the most important time of Christian year. He can successfully go on in this manner till the end of his days, but he won’t be granted salvation.

Darcy proposes to Elizabeth and is ashamed of it. He’s ashamed of having loved such an improper girl, and would be ashamed to be married to her if she agreed.

As he said at Netherfield: “it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule”, and now he knows that he’s going to ridicule himself in the eyes of his peers by doing what he thinks is right, but what will not appear to them as such.

Everyone has his own cross to bear, and Darcy’s, in the Easter season, is Elizabeth.

He could have fallen in love with Anne de Bourgh to the joy of his family, friends and perhaps even his own. He could have fallen in love with another woman of high birth and extensive dowry. But instead he fell for a girl that is so universally unsuitable, that is, with the exception of her self. Everything she is, her personality, character, principles, manners, beauty and accomplishments, is what suits him best, but not what she represents in the society. He could be the happiest of men if he married her, if not for the shame the union would be in the eyes of others.

He’d then be more than happy to forget about her and move his feelings elsewhere, by that solving his problem easily, but he cannot do what is easy. He cannot get rid of his cross, because his passion for Elizabeth is too strong, and that’s what haunts him. He has to choose the difficult path against his wishes.

Yet, if he had fallen in love with someone else, even the best woman in the world, his pride would never be challenged and conquered. He’d marry and never be happy with himself and his own life, because he’d lack the courage to do what is right whenever circumstances called for it. No man’s will is free if he’s kept hostage by his own pride, and that’s why pride is the one sin from which all others arise.

Thanks to Elizabeth Darcy learns to have the guts to choose, do and appreciate what is right in the broader scheme, against the views of his peers. At the end the opinion of his family doesn’t matter. He’s no longer ashamed even to become Wickham’s brother. When Elizabeth learns of his actions and feels proud of him it’s the best kind of pride, the one that is entirely to his own merit.

I heard it said that April must be a fateful month for Darcy. I think it very unlikely. He learnt a lesson, “hard indeed at first, but most advantageous”. Darcy is too intelligent to not appreciate such a valuable gift. Even if he never met Elizabeth again, the lesson would be learnt.

He was a good landlord, master, nephew, cousin, friend and brother, but thanks to Elizabeth he was taught how to be a good man. No one can be happy without it.

It is impossible to be proud and good at the same time. Whenever he’d make a difficult choice, choosing what’s proper over what’s right, he’d feel guilty, and this guilt would eat him with time. He already did that when he concealed Jane’s presence in town from Bingley (because she was so unsuitable), and he knows it was beneath him. If he chose otherwise he’d feel ashamed, and this shame would make him resentful. Mr. Bennet is ashamed of having married his wife, and he takes a life long revenge on her for it. There’s no integrity in proud men. It is very difficult to lead a good life when one cannot appreciate oneself for it and is not appreciated by others, and Darcy was not, until he met Elizabeth for whom he and his actions mattered more than his public image, and for whom he had to reject the pretence in order to not be ashamed of her, but appreciate her as the woman truly worthy of it.

“I love him. Indeed he has no improper pride.”

Elizabeth about Darcy to her father.

More about Easter:

Jane Austen’s Easter at The Jane Austen Centre’s Online magazine
A Jane Austen Easter at Jane Austen’s World
Happy Easter at Regency Ramble
Good Friday at Versaille and more

Further reading at Austenette:

Darcy’s Pride
Zizek About Austen
Woman in Love
Elizabeth’s Love for Darcy: Holy Matrimony

* I snagged the Philip Gough‘s illustration from Laurel Ann at Austenprose. I love that the author forgot about Colonel Fitzwilliam. It shows that when Elizabeth and Darcy are together everything else is easily forgotten.

I thought I can be guilty of the same. There are quite many blogs I follow regularly but don’t always comment on them. Or rather, I’m the kind of person who posts mostly to disagree about some tiny detail, while forgetting to compliment on the whole, or even worse – to post anything when I agree with the entire post.

Although I’m not sure I can change my nature, and as a Pole I’m in general not a very apprising person (famously, Poles speak only to complain), I thought I could redeem myself at least a bit by posting links to my Netvibes.

These are the blogs related to Jane Austen and to the Regency era I follow faithfully.

Thank you all for your great work! Your blogs never cease to entertain and provide food for thought.

It happens that there’s none. Georgiana never utters a single word throughout the entire novel. Similarly to Anne de Bourgh.

Read more about the two girls: Anne de Bourgh and Georgiana Darcy.

Eros

It is an expression of the Spirit – the yearning for union with the other. It’s the sense of being in love. It’s more than sexual attraction, it’s an attraction to the other. It should be one’s need of stimulation of mind as well as of flesh.

Eros is the only of the four that is intimate and exclusive. Lovers don’t like to share with a third party and are absorbed in one another. It is a taking kind of love, it wants to obtain pleasure from its object.

One does not need to like or esteem the other to feel the eros love (although often one does), but one seeks what the other person has to give. At the same time the difference between eros and desire – sexual or other – is that only the one person can fulfill the need.

Phileo

It is friendship. It’s what makes our interactions enjoyable. It’s narrower than companionship, although it’s often based on it, yet broader than eros, since friends can admit more than one person to their circle. Friends often think alike and have similar interests. They also wish the other person well, respect and esteem them. Friendship is less selfish, based on mutual giving and taking.

Storge

It is familial love, with its external manifestation. It’s the kind of affection we have for members of our family. We don’t need to be of one mind with our parents, grandparents or children, but being loved by them gives us pleasure and a feeling of warmness. Storge is the kind of love that is expressed in a hug, a kiss, or another sign of closeness, tenderness or confidence in the other person. It’s also a consequence of familiarity. The closer we are to the other the more we love them.

Agape

It is the most perfect and selfless love, taught to people by God. It is love of humankind, of our neighbour, as well as of those who are close to us. Thanks to this love we are able to forgive, be charitable, and set aside our own needs. One can love (agape) even one’s enemy, like when one doesn’t wish the other ill even when one hates them. In marriage this kind of love is of highest import both to balance the three other and to create a union that will survive all storms and miseries.

Eros is necessary in marriage so that a couple could become one flesh, fill in their respective needs, and continuously stimulate one another. Phileo is needed so that the couple could respect, esteem, and enjoy each other’s company, and storge is for their love to nourish and grow in the warmth of mutual affection. Agape allows the couple to withstand quarrels, give oneself to the other selflessly, take care of the other person in sickness and misfortune.

If you recall the expectations of Regency people in reference to the ideal of companionate marriage they strictly answer the four elements. For example a wife should be attractive, educated, kind and affectionate, principled and dutiful.

Elizabeth in Love

Elizabeth is in love from the outset because she shows all signs of the eros love towards Darcy. She is continuously curious of him, stimulated and provoked. She cannot stop herself from looking at him, listening to his conversations, wondering what he thinks about her, and speaking to him whenever there is an opening.

When the two talk it’s to the exclusion of anyone else in the room. They open to each other in a way they don’t to anyone else. During some of their conversations they bare their selves, so much that it becomes uncomfortable to the other people around.

No matter what Elizabeth says she never avoids Darcy. One time she wants to escape, after their last conversation at Netherfield, but even then she spends half an hour alone with him in silence. At Rosings she tells herself that her “accidental” meetings with him are unfortunate, and yet she goes again and again, knowing that they’ll meet.

If it were Collins she’d avoid him at all cost, but it’s Darcy and she wants more.

Her dislike of Caroline could be explained away, since Caroline didn’t like her either, but there’s no justification for her immediate dislike of Anne de Bourgh, even before she met the girl (no, there was no wind).

She also pairs them together before Darcy does. It’s Lizzy who says, yet in the first volume:

I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. — We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition (…)

While Darcy admits in the second:

We neither of us perform to strangers.

Her attachment to Wickham is really nonexistent, because she never talks to him of anything other than Darcy. Even when she thinks of dancing with Wickham at the Netherfield ball, in the same breath she thinks of Darcy observing her dancing. Wickham is a poor substitute for the appreciation she needs from Darcy, and so his interest, even though flattering her vanity, is not enough to make her forget about the other.

Naturally the other kinds of love are lacking, but that’s because Elizabeth puts up her defences. As she admits herself she is determined to hate him. Yet, if we look closer, they are not entirely nonexistent even in the early stage.

When Lizzy defends Darcy against her mother she’s showing the phileo love. For this short conversation they become friends, and support one another in the unpleasant situation. When they argue their differences and discuss their acquaintances they do it like two friends as well. Lizzy doesn’t think she shouldn’t discuss Darcy’s aunt or her friend and cousin’s marriage with him, all in a very open manner. Even the Hunsford proposal is like a quarrel between two lovers. One isn’t so truthful or heated with strangers. Can you imagine Lizzy telling Collins what she really thinks of him? She doesn’t tell Wickham either.

Moreover Lizzy esteems Darcy early on. She doesn’t approve of his character, but she’s impressed by his intellect.

There is a kind of familiarity between them, typical for the storge love. When Lizzy listens to Darcy’s conversations with Caroline she recognises her own father’s conversations with her mother. Like at home she takes the position of audience and derives obvious pleasure from the performance. At the same time there is the kind of familiarity between them that allows her to always be frank with him, which demands trust and confidence.

When Elizabeth chooses to tease Darcy it’s not to punish him, but to become closer to him. As Henry Tilney said nothing in the world advances intimacy so much as teasing, and Lizzy was well aware of it when she told Caroline: Teaze him — laugh at him. — Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done, and then went on to tease Darcy herself.

At this point Lizzy wasn’t yet determined to hate him. As she’ll tell Darcy later I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry, which means that she did contemplate marriage to him at this early stage.

The agape love was the most lacking, because as much as Lizzy wanted to derive her pleasure from her interactions with Darcy, she was afraid of becoming the source of his. She fears of his satirical eye. She may enjoy his rebukes to Caroline, but she wouldn’t like to become their victim. She’s far from willing to selflessly give herself to him.

Yet she’s wrong when she tells him at the end of the novel I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not.

Actually whenever she thought she might give him pain she retreated. When she defended him against her mother that’s because she thought he was unduly attacked. Shouldn’t she be glad that her enemy is bullied? When Bingley laughed at Darcy’s awesomeness on Sundays Elizabeth checked her laugh, thinking he could be offended.

Additionally she had problems believing the worst about him, even though it’s what she was determined to do. When Wickham told her his tale she exclaimed that she didn’t think Mr. Darcy so bad. When Colonel Fitzwilliam told her about Darcy’s share in separating Bingley from Jane she was shocked. Although she had suspected that he supported Caroline in that, she could never think so ill of him.

Elizabeth Coming to Love Darcy, Deeply

Hunsford changed everything. Not only her eros, but all of her feelings turned towards him and intensified. Those were shame and lack of hope that kept her from falling in love with him without restraint, but she couldn’t help the developing feelings anyway.

Those who think it significant that while touring Pemberley Lizzy visualises herself as the mistress of the place, should recall that yet at Rosings she imagined herself as Lady Catherine’s niece.

Colonel Fitzwilliam and everything else was forgotten, for many days all she could think of was the letter, and she spent long solitary hours on learning its content by heart.

Darcy was utmost in her thoughts when she was going to Derbyshire, and the most important object at Pemberley for her was Darcy’s portrait that she looked at with a serious contemplation: There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth’s mind, a more gentle sensation towards the original than she had ever felt in the height of their acquaintance.

After she met him

Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed to know what at that moment was passing in his mind; in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of every thing, she was still dear to him.

She can think of nothing else for the rest of the day.

But it is on the next evening, after Darcy’s visit to Lambton with his sister, that Elizabeth is finally assured that, indeed, she is still dear to him, and for the first time allows herself to contemplate her own feelings for him.

The earliest example of her strong eros comes soon after the letter. She sided with Darcy, and against Jane, when she decided not to mention Darcy’s interference in Bingley’s plans, and again when she defended Darcy from Wickham, or rather attacked Wickham for Darcy’s sake, before the regiment left Meryton. Here, however, we learn how much the other loves for him developed in her heart yet before her coming to Pemberley.

She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feelings;

It was his letter to her that created her respect for him, filling in the phileo love that wasn’t perfect before. Not his help to Lydia or Jane and Bingley, in short, not anything he could do for Elizabeth, but his character alone.

and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced.

That is the stroge love that now blooms freely, because Elizabeth is assured of his kindness and amiability.

But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude. — Gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride excited not only astonishment but gratitude — for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such, its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him; she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on the renewal of his addresses.

It is his agape love that moves her so much, and when she wonders whether she can love him in return, it’s her agape love for him that she wants to determine (how far she wished his welfare depended on her). It is not enough to be in love (eros), to befriend and esteem (phileo), or to find the other amiable (storge). In order to marry she must be sure that she can offer him the agape kind of love, because without that no marriage would be complete. She must know whether she feels ready to selflessly offer herself to him.

It is two chapters later (chapter 46) that Elizabeth has her answer. When Darcy calls on her after she has just finished reading Jane’s letters about Lydia’s elopement, Elizabeth shows strong signs of all the four loves already united in her heart.

Eros – her display of immediate intimacy, phileo – her looking to him as her friend, storge – her unrestrained tears in front of him, and agape – her inability to blame him for abandoning her.

Her agape love comes to force exactly when she thinks that he’s going to terminate their acquaintance:

Elizabeth soon observed and instantly understood it. Her power was sinking; every thing must sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She should neither wonder nor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of her distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her own wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved him, as now, when all love must be vain.

When her aunt says And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real truth! we can see the full irony of Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship. They are not engaged, as her aunt assumes, but they have long been, unofficially, upon such terms as for her or him to disclose the real truth. Even at Hunsford they held nothing from the other.

It is in this chapter that Austen, as the omniscient narrator, explains the nature of Elizabeth’s love for Darcy:

As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as had marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced in its termination.

If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth’s change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if otherwise, if the regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a first interview with its object, and even before two words have been exchanged, nothing can be said in her defence, except that she had given somewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality for Wickham, and that its ill-success might perhaps authorise her to seek the other less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go with regret;

If earlier we could have wondered whether Elizabeth could love Darcy with all of her heart, now Austen leaves us no doubt. To Austen this love is deep, as opposed to infatuation. One more proof that Lizzy was never really attached to Wickham, over whom she felt no regret at all.

In chapter 48 Austen again tells us:

Elizabeth, who was by this time tolerably well acquainted with her own feelings, was perfectly aware that, had she known nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of Lydia’s infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought, one sleepless night out of two.

In chapter 50, when Elizabeth is finally assured that Lydia will marry, she has a chance to think of her feelings for Darcy in a more thorough manner once again.

She regrets having told him about Lydia. Not because she’s in doubt of his secrecy, but because there was no one whose knowledge of a sister’s frailty would have mortified her so much. She doesn’t want him to think bad of her, even though she knows that she could never expect that he’d marry into Wickham’s family. And, naturally, she yearns for him.

She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they should meet.

What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous of his sex. But while he was mortal, there must be a triumph.

She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance. But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their family.

As clearly shown she’s as willing to marry him as she could ever be two chapters before learning about his help to Lydia. Naturally his help could not be unfelt by Elizabeth, but it cannot promote her love for him or her wishes to marry him any further than what she already feels.

Her reaction to Mrs. Gardiner’s letter is strongly under the agape love, when she puts her esteem of him over her own feelings of shame and regret:

For herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself.

Elizabeth Puts Up Her Defences Against Love, Again

Even if one might argue that when Elizabeth protests against the notion of being interested in Darcy in the first and second volumes she means it, in the third it can be clearly observed that the more she cares the more she’s resolved to claim that she does not.

After Darcy’s first arrival in Longbourn she exclaims Teazing, teazing, man! I will think no more about him.

When, after dinner, she waits for him to enter the room together with other gentlemen, she thinks to herself “If he does not come to me, then,” said she, “I shall give him up for ever.”

Lady Catherine’s visit brings this thought:

“If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his friend within a few days,” she added, “I shall know how to understand it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all.”

Elizabeth thinks all of the above while yearning for his love, feeling pain on his behalf whenever he’s mistreated by her mother, and praying for a meeting or at least a short conversation.

How then should this early scene from Netherfield be understood?

Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be an object of admiration to so great man; and yet that he should look at her because he disliked her was still more strange. She could only imagine however, at last, that she drew his notice because there was a something about her more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked him too little to care for his approbation.

So she did like him.

Is Lizzy right or Austen is being ironic in this Lizzy’s speech from the end of the novel?

“You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused, and interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There — I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me — but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.”

Darcy, wisely, doesn’t commit to an answer, and only compliments her on her goodness to Jane. Lizzy did, like the other women, look for his approbation, but she went about it differently. While Miss Bingley blindly repeated whatever he said, in the hope of convincing him that they’re always of one mind, Lizzy wanted to obtain his real approbation, based on her true self. She wanted him to see her and appreciate her the way she was, and she quite succeeded in that.

Further reading:

The Many Facets of Love: Introduction
The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis
Marriage & Love Relationship: A Complete Marriage
Understanding Love

Relevant posts at Austenette:

Woman in Love
Zizek About Austen
Darcy’s Pride
Easter in Pride and Prejudice
Innocence and Ignorance

Love now and then.

A modern Elizabeth Bennet might have very well admitted that she had a crush on Darcy the moment he entered the Meryton Assembly rooms, and then proclaimed that she had changed her mind when he slighted her. Today we call ourselves in love whenever we feel attraction or a heightened interest. What follows are mutual conversations, dates, moving in together, eventually marriage and divorce when we discover that what we used to call love is long gone or was never there to begin with.

Consider how differently it had to appear to a Regency lady to whom any serious attachment had to have the notion of finality?

Divorce was not an option. The moment she called herself in love her future was decided. Austen shows us the drawbacks again and again on the examples of failed marriages, of women mistreated by their husbands, of poverty, infidelity and ruin.

Mrs. Bennet might be the silliest woman in the world, but she would be happier with a kinder husband. Mrs. Price might have been violently in love, but she pays the price every day of her life. Lady Elliot and Mrs. General Tilney must have been miserable. The day Maria Bertram decided to become Mrs. Rushworth was the first one of her ruin. Eliza Williams ended up as a prostitute. Mrs. Palmer and Isabella Knightley are Mrs. Bennet in making. Marianne would grow to be miserable with Willoughby if they married.

Andrew Davies is frequently criticised for having Lizzy claim that she wouldn’t marry without the deepest love. As much as I dislike misconceptions about the novel created by adaptations, he couldn’t be more right here.

Elizabeth Bennet’s attitude to love.

When Mrs. Bennet mentions Jane’s admirer who expressed his feelings in several love poems Lizzy argues:

“And so ended his affection,” said Elizabeth impatiently. “There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!”

“I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,” said Darcy.

“Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.”

That is a clear indication that what Elizabeth would be inclined to ever call love would have to be nothing short of the deepest attachment. Her love has to be fine, stout and healthy. It has to continuously grow and nourish, not fade away with time.

It doesn’t mean that she was a stranger to the feelings of attraction, infatuation, or being in love throughout the novel. It means that the moment she will call it love will have all the significance of finality.

Why does she need Pemberley to have it happen?

Let’s have a look at Northanger Abbey where Austen writes about Catherine’s meeting with Tilney:

They danced again; and, when the assembly closed, parted, on the lady’s side at least, with a strong inclination for continuing the acquaintance. Whether she thought of him so much, while she drank her warm wine and water, and prepared herself for bed, as to dream of him when there, cannot be ascertained; but I hope it was no more than in a slight slumber, or a morning doze at most; for if it be true, as a celebrated writer has maintained, that no young lady can be justified in falling in love before the gentleman’s love is declared, it must be very improper that a young lady should dream of a gentleman before the gentleman is first known to have dreamt of her.

Surely it does not mean that Catherine didn’t think or dream of Tilney at that point, but admitting to her feelings so early would be imprudent. The celebrated writer Austen alludes to is Samuel Richardson, who in Rambler 97 wrote:

That a young lady should be in love, and the love of the young gentleman undeclared, is an heterodoxy which prudence, and even policy, must not allow.

Austen might laugh at the thought that a young woman’s feelings could be kept under control to such an extent, but at the same time she was aware of the ramifications.

For a young woman to fall in love without having her feelings reciprocated must have meant a broken heart, and even when she was assured of the mutuality of her affections, without the guarantee of their being rewarded by marriage, she could be as miserable as Elinor, Marianne, Fanny or Anne Elliot are throughout a good part of the novels.

Elizabeth Bennet isn’t then eager to call herself in love before she knows it’s safe.

Readers who see Lizzy as attracted to Darcy from the start aren’t wrong, because Austen describes a woman in love. Lizzy’s behaviour, her continuous interest in Darcy, her attempts at teasing and flirting, her fear of his rejection of her self are all too clear indications, but for all she knows he didn’t find her tempting enough.

At first then she has no clear sign of Darcy’s interest in her or his willingness to follow his feelings. Then, after they discuss the flaws in their respective characters falling in love with him seems a dangerous move, and it is only safe for her to strive, by all means possible, to turn her feelings into hatred. Hunsford changes that, but at the same time crashes any hopes that could arise, because, as Lizzy tells Jane, Darcy has other feelings that should soon drive his affection away from her.

It’s Pemberley where she learns it’s not the case, and only then she gives herself the chance to analyse her feelings.

As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings towards one in that mansion; and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them out. She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feelings; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude. — Gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride excited not only astonishment but gratitude — for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such, its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him; she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her she still possessed, of bringing on the renewal of his addresses.

To a careful reader it’s obvious that she’s in love already. It’s been obvious on many earlier occasions, including her attempts at knowing him better, her not so “surprising” meetings with him in Kent and her inability to not think of him when she was travelling to Derbyshire, but what Lizzy does here is making sure it’s the deepest kind of love. Not fondness, admiration, attraction or respect, but her love of his self. It is a matter of honesty both towards him and herself that she would not encourage the union without being absolutely certain of it.

Gratitude was considered the main reason for women’s falling in love. It was thought that a sensible (sensitive) woman could not remain indifferent to a man’s interest in her. Here, however, Lizzy is grateful yet for something else: for his loving her still. That is what makes the analysis of her feelings possible at all. That is the one factor that changes everything for her. For the first time she’s not in danger of falling in love unwisely. On the contrary. She is free to bring all of her previous feelings to light and define them. If she comes to a favourable conclusion she knows that there is a guarantee of their happiness on his part. She is aware that he waits for her to decide.

Should she, at this point, jump to the conclusion “Oh, how wonderful! I love him!”? No! To paraphrase Darcy – a woman who felt less might. But for Lizzy it is of utmost importance to know for certain, to never regret her decision, to not marry a man who would make her unhappy, and to not make him unhappy in return. She knows her heart without a doubt as soon as regret comes and she thinks she won’t see him ever again. But at this point she knows that she has time, and she wants to give as much consideration to the decision as it deserves.

It’s ironic that some readers assume that Lizzy was in love with Wickham, even though she herself decidedly objects to the idea, but don’t see Lizzy’s long and unwavering attraction to Darcy.

It is not as if she were able to fall in love with him during the short time spent with him at Pemberley and in Lambton. Naturally it’s very easy to fall in love with a tall, handsome, clever and rich man who is crazy about us. I’d suggest it’s difficult not to fall in love with him. What Lizzy does then is trying to resist the temptation in order to define her feelings as if it didn’t exist.

Note that she admits to her feelings long before she learns about his help to Lydia or his readiness to promote the marriage between Bingley and Jane.  And yet she never voices them to anyone before his second proposal. Only then it is safe again, because, like many Austen’s heroines, Lizzy made the mistake of consciously falling in love too early. It’s just the beginning of the third volume and there is still a lot of anguish before her, while, the moment she admitted to loving him before herself was the point without return.

Darcy’s attitude to love.

There is no doubt in reader’s mind that Darcy’s love for Elizabeth is of the deepest and most passionate kind, and yet, what he tells her during the Hunsford proposal shows that his attitude didn’t differ from hers:

“And this,” cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, “is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,” added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, “these offences might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination — by reason, by reflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”

Darcy too had his long nights spent on thinking about the nature of his affections for her. Whether his love was strong enough to give up all of the things that weren’t in her favour. An inclination unqualified, unalloyed by reason or reflection was not what he cared for either.

To paraphrase Darcy again: to fall in love without conviction is not a compliment to the understanding of either.

That is what Mr. Bennet did when he proposed to Miss Gardiner, and that, I’m sure, neither Lizzy nor Darcy would ever wish for themselves.

Austen’s attitude to love.

Austen was well aware of the variety of feelings and the difficulty of defining them as a final attachment. In her letter to her niece, Fanny Knight, she writes:

Chawton: Friday (Nov. 18, 1814).

I was certainly a good deal surprised at first, as I had no suspicion of any change in your feelings, and I have no scruple in saying that you cannot be in love. My dear Fanny, I am ready to laugh at the idea, and yet it is no laughing matter to have had you so mistaken as to your own feelings. And with all my heart I wish I had cautioned you on that point when first you spoke to me; but, though I did not think you then so much in love, I did consider you as being attached in a degree quite sufficiently for happiness, as I had no doubt it would increase with opportunity, and from the time of our being in London together I thought you really very much in love. But you certainly are not at all — there is no concealing it.

(…)

Poor dear Mr. A.! Oh, dear Fanny! your mistake has been one that thousands of women fall into. He was the first young man who attached himself to you. That was the charm, and most powerful it is. Among the multitudes, however, that make the same mistake with yourself, there can be few indeed who have so little reason to regret it; his character and his attachment leave you nothing to be ashamed of.

Upon the whole, what is to be done? [words omitted in Brabourne edition: "You certainly have encouraged him to such a point as to make him feel almost secure of you"] You have no inclination for any other person. His situation in life, family, friends, and, above all, his character, his uncommonly amiable mind, strict principles, just notions, good habits, all that you know so well how to value, all that is really of the first importance, everything of this nature pleads his cause most strongly. You have no doubt of his having superior abilities, he has proved it at the University; he is, I dare say, such a scholar as your agreeable, idle brothers would ill bear a comparison with.

(…)

And now, my dear Fanny, having written so much on one side of the question, I shall turn round and entreat you not to commit yourself farther, and not to think of accepting him unless you really do like him. Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection; and if his deficiences of manner, &c. &c., strike you more than all his good qualities, if you continue to think strongly of them, give him up at once.

Her niece, being aware of the man’s good qualities, began to hesitate again, this time in his favour, to which Austen wrote:

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.

Readers who are disappointed that love in Austen’s novel doesn’t resemble a lightning from heaven, or, in short, doesn’t resemble Marianne’s affection for Willoughby, don’t take under consideration how unwise that would be. How great the risk that a woman would follow an inclination not strong enough to last a lifetime.

It does not mean that there was not such a kind of love in the heroines’ heart, but it means that what we call ‘love’ today wouldn’t be considered enough by them. They needed to know for sure, to make a decision as serious as marriage would be, before they even began the ‘dating’ process. We might think that it is enough that we feel dizzy in a man’s presence, that we’re ever conscious of him, that he makes us blush and remember his every word. But women back then (at least the wiser ones) still needed to take all of those feverish feelings and put them under careful scrutiny before they called it love.

Then to translate it to our modern language we might say that Lizzy fell in love early in their acquaintance, but came to seriously love him at Pemberley.

When Darcy blames his early belief in Lizzy’s wishing for his proposal on his vanity, she contradicts him:

My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after that evening?

That’s Elizabeth’s admission that by now she realises that she gave him signs contrary to those she had meant to. She might have thought that she managed to dislike him and act on it, but her reactions to him were of a very different kind. Indeed, she did give him all the encouragement he needed to propose that evening.

Those who are still in doubt should recollect that Pride and Prejudice is above all a novel about marrying wisely. About self recognition and deconstruction of one’s misconceptions. It is natural then for its heroine to be ignorant of the nature of her own feelings and in need of going through the necessary process of self discovery. Elizabeth herself admitted that after reading Darcy’s letter: I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself.

We are asked to change our opinion about everything we thought we knew at the beginning of the novel. That includes the nature of Lizzy’s feelings for Darcy as well. Should we really expect that Austen’s favourite heroine would want to marry for reasons other than the deepest love since her creator herself said that Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection?

And even though it is Jane who says those words in Pride and Prejudice, and Lizzy at first jests on the subject, we are told that Another intreaty that she would be serious (…) produced the desired effect; and [Elizabeth] soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment.

If that were not enough do remember that marrying without love (not fondness, respect or a fraternal or friendly affection, but the deepest sort of love that encompasses both its spiritual and carnal sides) was considered immoral by Austen’s times. Recall how low Charlotte sank in Lizzy’s mind after having accepted Collins. Any proper heroine back then would say that she was determined to marry only for the deepest love.

I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh.

Relevant posts at Austenette:

Elizabeth’s Love for Darcy: Holy Matrimony
Rambler 97 by Samuel Richardson
I Knew You Would Be Wishing Me Joy
Zizek About Austen
Darcy’s Pride
Easter in Pride and Prejudice
Innocence and Ignorance
First Impressions

Samuel Richardson

In Rambler 97 Samuel Richardson argues in favour of the course of courtship of his own youth. It is interesting to see how much the mores had changed between his times and those of Austen.

Austen famously paraphrased his words in Northanger Abbey:

for if it be true, as a celebrated writer has maintained, that no young lady can be justified in falling in love before the gentleman’s love is declared, it must be very improper that a young lady should dream of a gentleman before the gentleman is first known to have dreamt of her.

It is likewise significant to note that no positive hero of Austen’s ever seeks the lady’s family’s approval for courtship or asks for her hand before her own consent is given. Such a kind of behaviour is left to men like Mr. Collins or Henry Crawford.

You can read the Rambler 97 in The Repository.

Relevant posts at Austenette:

Rambler 97 by Samuel Richardson
Woman in Love

Moreover, in her second post in the series she points out that if he saved only Ł100 a year, that is one twentieth of his yearly income, he’d arrive at extra  Ł2,300 for his daughters by the beginning of Pride and Prejudice.

That got me thinking, and actually it’d be even more. If he saved Ł100 a year but didn’t use the interest, after the first year it’d be just extra Ł4, but if he left it in the bank the interest would grow and bring additional percentage from interest.

Year 1 would give Ł104, year 2 – Ł212.16, year 3 – Ł324.6464, and so on, until year 23 when it’d give Ł3,808.26. That’s more than half of the Ł5,000 the Bennet ladies are going to have.

Yet there was an even better method of saving available to him. Mrs. Bennet brought Ł4,000 in her dowry, to which Mr. Bennet agreed in the marriage articles to add Ł1,000. I don’t think that for a bachelor with Ł2,000 a year it was a big issue at that point. It was his wife and many daughters who considerably added to his spendings, so presumably he could have that much saved already.

When they married there was only him and his wife, and Ł2,000 a year is enough for two. Then, when girls were little, they still weren’t much of a cost. It wasn’t as it is today when kids cost a lot because of napkins, special food etc. Back then it cost very little to pay for laundry, a nurse and a bit of nutrition. Only when they grew the cost would grow along with their dresses and tutors. Mr. Bennet calculated that Lydia alone cost him Ł90 a year.

But at the beginning it was enough to not spend more than Ł2,000 for his wife and himself. He could have simply put the Ł5,000 settled on his wife on percent and let the percent accumulate as well.

Already after the first year he’d have extra Ł200 from the 4% the Ł5,000 would bring. After two years it’d be Ł5,408, after three – Ł5,624.32, and after twenty three – Ł12,232.58.

The extra Ł7,232.58 is how much Mr. Bennet could have saved by simply doing nothing, and yet he hasn’t done even that!

Ł12,232.58 would be more than twice the sum the Bennet ladies are going to have after he dies. It’d be over Ł2,000 for each, including their mother, while now they are going to have Ł1,000 each only after their mother dies.

Note that when Mrs. Bennet, displeased with Lizzy’s refusal of Mr. Collins, threatens her that she won’t take her after Mr. Bennet dies, she knows what she’s speaking of. The entire Ł5,000 is hers. Only after her death her daughters would really get anything.

In chapter 50 we learn:

Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet and the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst the latter depended on the will of the parents.

So even whether Lizzy would get her 4% from the Ł1,000 that presumably would be hers one day, depended on her parents’ will. If they didn’t accept her choice of husband, or if Mrs. Bennet was left destitute by her own husband Lizzy could get nothing, because Mr. Bennet saved nothing for her or her sisters. The only person who took care of his daughter in all of this was Mrs. Bennet’s father.

In The Sorrows of Young Werther we read:

SEPTEMBER 6

It cost me much to part with the blue coat which I wore the first time I danced with Charlotte. But I could not possibly wear it any longer. But I have ordered a new one, precisely similar, even to the collar and sleeves, as well as a new waistcoat and pantaloons.

But it does not produce the same effect upon me. I know not how it is, but I hope in time I shall like it better.

Werther in his blue coat and yellow waistcoat.

And again, although the English translation doesn’t support it, the original has Werther die clad in his “blauen Frack mit gelber Weste” (blue coat and yellow waistcoat). Just as suicides became popular together with the publication of the novel, blue coat became even more so. Suddenly young men wanted to be like Werther.

In Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice two men wear a blue coat: Bingley and Wickham. True to Austen’s style, everything in her novel is doubled and twisted.

Bingley is an honest man, but careless as Werther was. His writing style that he is so proud of is an imitation of Werther’s carelessness in letter writing. Bingley resembles Goethe’s protagonist in his social behaviour as well. He’s kind to those who are lower on the social ladder, and unconcerned with titles. The very first thing the girls notice about him is that he wears blue coat. We learn then that he’s romantic in advance. Yet his negligence in observing etiquette has its drawbacks. He asks Jane twice to dance with him on the first occasion, causing gossip that he yet doesn’t know he’s likely to follow. We know that, like Werther again, he was in love before. There must have been ladies with broken hearts and disappointed hopes. At the same time he overlooks Lizzy for his “Angel”, once more, Werther’s nickname for his sweetheart, causing her to sit down a dance when he should be dancing with her. In my opinion his conduct is a result of thoughtlessness. In this he’s similar to Marianne, in love with the image of himself, styled upon Werther’s example, without consideration for the feelings of others, because he cannot imagine he could hurt.

Bingley’s indecision mirrors that of Werther’s as well.

Wickham, on the other hand, is deliberation itself. His every move is counted in advance. He’s no gentleman, he acts one. He pursues money and social promotion, but pretends to be honestly concerned with those around him. His manners are impeccable, always thoughtful, but false. We never see him in love, we only see women who believe him to be in love with them. At the end it’s Lydia who hopes he’ll wed her in his blue coat – the very symbol of romantic soul in a man. And yet we have no doubt that he holds no such feelings for her.

Wickham doesn’t care that he might hurt others, or even hurts them deliberately.

In both Bingley and Wickham’s examples the blue coat is just a pretence.

Then there is Darcy, of whose coats we never hear that they are blue, yet he is the man whose love cannot be equalled in either strength or passion by the other two. He’s always thoughtful, although unconcerned with pretensions.  He chooses affection over money, yet he doesn’t flirt. His every decision is deliberate, but marked with honesty.

He doesn’t pretend anything, either before himself or others. He doesn’t need a blue coat, because he doesn’t need to prove anything.

In this Defoe argues in defence of female education, bringing arguments, including a great deal of reading, that make one think of Elizabeth Bennet.

To such whose genius would lead them to it, I would deny no sort of learning; but the chief thing, in general, is to cultivate the understandings of the sex, that they may be capable of all sorts of conversation; that their parts and judgements being improved, they may be as profitable in their conversation as they are pleasant.

Lizzy is quick, bright, intelligent, witty, and inherently good, but she lacks education. That she is to receive from Darcy:

…from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.

Her mistakes are those of judgement. She has the tool, she doesn’t know how to use it. Her observations are spot on, but her interpretations of them are flawed.

Defoe tells us of the risk associated with ill-applied talents not directed by good education:

If her temper be good, want of education makes her soft and easy. (That’s Jane, I believe)

Her wit, for want of teaching, makes her impertinent and talkative. (That’s Lizzy’s wit, and Mrs. Bennet and Lydia’s both)

Her knowledge, for want of judgement and experience, makes her fanciful and whimsical. (That’s Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty, although I think it could be also Lizzy viewed from Darcy’s POV)

If her temper be bad, want of breeding makes her worse; and she grows haughty, insolent, and loud. (Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, Kitty, and Lizzy to an extent)

If she be passionate, want of manners makes her a termagant and a scold, which is much at one with Lunatic. (Mrs. Bennet, Lydia and Lizzy)

If she be proud, want of discretion (which still is breeding) makes her conceited, fantastic, and ridiculous. (Mrs. Bennet, Mary Bennet and Lizzy)

And from these she degenerates to be turbulent, clamorous, noisy, nasty, the devil!…

I don’t want to argue that Lizzy is the devil! Only I note that some similarities are present. A sillier person will be forgiven a whole lot more folly than a clever one, so my expectations towards Lizzy are higher than those towards Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters.

Misjudging Darcy, on so little evidence, for no other reason than his lack of early demonstrated interest in Lizzy certainly was very silly. The ever present and so passionate wish to punish him for it was even more so. After all he was just a stranger who didn’t want to dance. Trusting Wickham, only because he knew how to flatter, was plain ridiculous.

Lizzy has a great deal of natural talents, but thanks to Darcy she will mature. She’ll learn to be more objective, less swayed by her own self-image and the way others respond to it. She’ll gain confidence and cease to be so defensive, and that’s always a good sign of becoming a better, more level-headed person.

After all her father could only allow her to be less silly than her sisters. He appreciated her talents, but did nothing to develop them. Darcy will be as attentive in teaching her as she will be passionate in learning. The final effect painted by Defoe is rewarding:

A woman well bred and well taught, furnished with the additional accomplishments of knowledge and behaviour, is a creature without comparison. Her society is the emblem of sublimer enjoyments, her person is angelic, and her conversation heavenly. She is all softness and sweetness, peace, love, wit, and delight. She is every way suitable to the sublimest wish, and the man that has such a one to his portion, has nothing to do but to rejoice in her, and be thankful.

I hope you’ll find it interesting and useful. I’m going to write commentaries as I add to the list.

Incidentally I’m perfectly fine with other people’s grammatical mistakes since I’m not a native English speaker myself.

Of course everyone in the world of Jane Austen’s fans is going to have similar results.

Mr. Bingley

Twice in the book we are told about Darcy’s wishes for Bingley’s marriage to Georgiana. Once by Caroline, the second time by the omniscient narrator.

This is the one thing about Darcy people have the most trouble to believe in, even though Austen said so. One can think it in the first part of the book, but in the second, when one already knows what a great man Darcy is, an arranged marriage of his sister seems out of character.

Darcy could have his reasons. I know that people love to think that theirs was the best siblings ever, but clearly Georgiana is quite a burden. No one would say today about a 15 year old running away from home with her boyfriend that she and her parents have a great connection. Why would it differ back then?

From Elizabeth’s conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam it seems that it’s pretty much the case:

“I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience of that kind. But, perhaps his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her.”

“No,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy.”

“Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way.”

As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly, and the manner in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth.

The conversation begins with the notion that Darcy might indeed do what he likes with his sister, but quickly hops to the difficult to manage young lady with the true Darcy spirit.

Perhaps then Darcy’s idea to avoid further troubles was to marry her off as soon as possible. After all it’s not normal that he plans a marriage of his 15 years old sister. She’s not even out, and she shouldn’t be until she is 17-18. Bingley would be a good candidate. No, not a great catch, Georgiana could win much more on the wedding market, but Bingley is a trusted friend, kind and generous, Darcy knows he wouldn’t harm her.

Yet, for such a romantic hero, to plot a marriage is undignified. What’s worse it’d seem that he had plotted it with Caroline behind Bingley’s back, which seems very much out of character. Yes, Darcy did some cunning when Jane showed up in town, but he was ashamed of it, he thought it beneath him. There is no reason to think he had done it ever before when there was no such a necessity. Is there another explanation then? Yes, there is.

It’s not pleasant to trust the words of the unlikable characters, yet, in truth, there’s no reason to doubt them. It seems that none of them ever says a lie. Caroline’s words should then be taken seriously:

Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister, and to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already, he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing, her relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister’s partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman’s heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?

There’s no doubt that Caroline composed her letter in a shrewed way designed to hurt Jane, but what is interesting for the purpose of this post is that she says: My brother admires her greatly already! She’s not so sure about Georgiana’s feelings, but seems certain about Bingley’s.

Of course the reader is with Lizzy. A man so much in love with Jane could not fall with another in a matter of weeks. But, and here’s the great but I’ve been approaching, Darcy writes in his letter to Elizabeth:

I had often seen him in love before.

There! Shouldn’t one wonder in love with whom?

Why even say something like that? In his letter Darcy tries not to blacken his friend’s character, why then mention that falling in love is a frequent occurrence for Bingley? Or does that mean something else? Could it mean that Darcy had often seen him in love before because he had a frequent opportunity to observe his friend in one particular case?

Darcy’s plan for Georgiana and Bingley’s marriage is the only thing not cleared up in his letter. Yet Austen took care to confirm it just at the time readers became convinced that it had to be nonexistent and only a figment of Caroline’s imagination. Then indeed Austen says:

[Darcy] had certainly formed such a plan, and without meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern for the welfare of his friend.

Perhaps then Darcy does clear up that one thing in his letter as well, and when he says “I had often seen him in love before.” he means his being previously convinced of Bingley’s being in love with his sister.

Let us imagine then the rather obvious scenario:

Georgiana nearly elopes with Wickham. Darcy prevents it and takes her to Pemberley. According to Colonel Fitzwilliam Darcy spent the entire summer with Bingley.

There Georgiana cures her broken heart, and while at it she and Bingley become closer. She plays, sings, and draws, and Bingley is charmed (he’ll later say that all young ladies play, sing etc, just when Caroline will begin to praise Miss Darcy in front of Lizzy).

Caroline might not be certain of Georgiana’s affections, but Darcy would know his sister better, and since Georgiana could be charmed by such a Wickham, surely the kind, cheerful and attentive Bingley could succeed as easily. Georgiana seems to be in the need of someone else’s care.

The natural move for Darcy would be to wait a little longer, and that’s what he seems to be doing. Georgiana can return to her establishment in London for now, and if the feelings on both sides can withstood the trial of time it means they’re a match.

The last time Caroline saw Georgiana was the previous spring. Likely just before Darcy sent his sister to Ramsgate. It couldn’t have been much of an acquaintance or Caroline would feel at freedom to correspond with her dear friend, instead of asking Darcy to convey her regards. But Bingley must have seen much more of her.

The men might have never talked about it, but the summer ends and they all go to London. Caroline is glad to hear Bingley praise Miss Darcy so often, and likely it’s when Darcy gives her to understand that he approves of the match.

Now, that shows Darcy in quite a different light. He’s not the one who plots with Caroline behind his friend and sister’s back, but the one who approves and cheers their happy union desired by all.

Naturally, if a man like Bingley wants to propose to one Miss Darcy of Pemberley he must have a house. Isn’t it interesting that Bingley rents Netherfield so suddenly?

They go to Hertfordshire and all seems well, but Bingley meets Jane. Yet Darcy seems unsuspicious.

But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. –

Jane Bennet

Then he must choose between his own sister and Jane. He does the obvious. He observes Jane without meaning that his concern for his own sister should bias him against her. Austen says as much, repeatedly.

That I was desirous of believing [Jane] indifferent is certain, — but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears.

Hopes or fears are a bit too much like for it being only his friend’s silly infatuation, unless his own sister’s feelings were at stake as well. Later Austen says it was very much so: without meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern for the welfare of his friend.

Darcy then does the ugly thing of separating Jane and Bingley after just an evening of observations that many readers have so much troubles to reconcile with, but he’s of a different opinion.

It is done, however, and it was done for the best. — On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister’s feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them. –

But what of Georgiana? Lizzy seems to imitate Darcy’s actions when she meets Georgiana and observes her together with Bingley.

[S]he could not be deceived as to [Bingley's] behaviour to Miss Darcy, who had been set up as a rival of Jane. No look appeared on either side that spoke particular regard. Nothing occurred between them that could justify the hopes of his sister. On this point she was soon satisfied;

Georgiana Darcy

Very well, it is likely that Lizzy is right about Bingley. Both she and Darcy see his attentions to Jane as unparalleled, but no one will convince me that Lizzy can judge Georgiana’s feelings – a shy, quiet girl’s whom she has just met – after several minutes of observations any better than Darcy could judge Jane’s after a month of acquaintance and an evening of scrutiny.

This is Austen at her greatness! Lizzy comes to Pemberley in order to have her lasting reservations about Darcy removed, and just when there does the same mistake she so much held against him. When facing the rivalry between their own sisters both want to be fair, and yet none of them can remain unprejudiced.

…I told them my very best tale of the princess who was waited upon by dwarfs. I improve myself by this exercise, and am quite surprised at the impression my stories create. If I sometimes invent an incident which I forget upon the next narration, they remind one directly that the story was different before; so that I now endeavour to relate with exactness the same anecdote in the same monotonous tone, which never changes. I find by this, how much an author injures his works by altering them, even though they be improved in a poetical point of view. The first impression is readily received. We are so constituted that we believe the most incredible things; and, once they are engraved upon the memory, woe to him who would endeavour to efface them.

The Sorrows of Young Werther

ETA: I uploaded The Sorrows of Young Werther in the meantime, and there is generally one thing worth noticing. Goethe proves himself wrong in regard to first impressions. Nearly the entire novel is told from Werther’s POV, but at the end the author switches to seemingly impartial narration. We learn that many events and people could have been misinterpreted by Werther, which makes us doubt the accuracy of the entire story.

Darcy and Caroline, Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 6:

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity,

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” repeated Miss Bingley. “I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite? — and pray when am I to wish you joy?”

“That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.”

Yet Caroline’s imagination jumps even further:

“Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and of course she will be always at Pemberley with you.”

Here’s what Hume had to say about it:

“It is plain, that in the course of our thinking, and in the constant revolution of our ideas, our imagination runs easily from one idea to any other that resembles it, and that this quality alone is to the fancy a sufficient bond and association. It is likewise evident that as the senses, in changing their objects, are necessitated to change them regularly, and take them as they lie contiguous to each other, the imagination must by long custom acquire the same method of thinking, and run along the parts of space and time in conceiving its objects.”

La! Isn’t it a pretty discovery?

There’s also another quote, appropriate for the theme of perception in Pride and Prejudice:

When we start introspecting, “we are never intimately conscious of anything but a particular perception; man is a bundle or collection of different perceptions which succeed one another with an inconceivable rapidity and are in perpetual flux and movement.”

One day I’ll write more about Hume’s philosophy in reference to Austen’s writings, that’s just a teaser.

The number of views of particular posts and pages shows that the major interest of those who came here doesn’t necessarily concur with mine. Unsurprisingly the most viewed posts refer to the rather not ingenious tv series Lost in Austen.

Lost in Austen Lost, Again	588
Will the Bond Girl Become Darcy’s Girl?	532
Lost in Austen – Episode 1	458
Anne de Bourgh and Georgiana Darcy	169
You Know That You Created Mary Sue When.	156
Darcy’s Pride	142
About Me	78
(Not)Dancing With One’s Wife	69
The Habits of Gentlemen	68
Ballroom Etiquette	66
To M	63
Jane Austen Nude	59
A Snifter of P&P	56
Zizek About Austen	52
P&P on Rocks	46
The Habits of Gentlemen	43
Books and Papers Online	39
To M	36
Caroline and Darcy’s Joint Wishes	35
Innocence and Ignorance	34
Chevening Park = Rosings Park	32
Silent Water	23
Huet’s Treatise on the Origin of Novels	8

Good news is that there were over 100 people interested in posts refering to the interpretation of Pride and Prejudice, and well over 50 wanted to read about Regency etiquette. Fewer read fanfiction, but then those aren’t new stories and they had well over thousand readers elsewhere, while the purpose of this blog is Austen and her work.

Most likely in the approaching months I’ll write a chapter by chapter commentary on Pride and Prejudice, but what do you want to read about? Here’s a small poll that might give me a better understanding of people’s interests. You can choose multiple answers.

Thank you, and a Happy New Year!

Your retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of ignorance.

Mr. Darcy says to Elizabeth in the new Penguin Classics edition of Pride and Prejudice, that, for the first time since the first edition Austen laid her eyes upon, brings to the reader her orginal words.

Austen sold her rights to the first edition of Pride and Prejudice in 1812, and never again had any influence on the printed text. Throughout subsequent years various publishers edited, abridged, and even reorganised its structure according to the 19th century fashions.

It was Chapman who first looked for an old copy and brought us our beloved Austen’s novel in the form we know it today.

Yet, Chapman used Cassandra’s private copy, and while revising the novel applied her private notes. Penguin went further than that, and in their newest edition brings us Pride and Prejudice in the only form Austen has approved. Hence Mr. Darcy mentiones Lizzy’s ignorance rather than innocence, swiftly alluding to the underlying theme of the novel.

There are also slight differences in punctuation and spelling, giving reader the feel of an 18th century novel. The whole is edited with an introduction, chronology and notes by Vivien Jones, and enriched with the original Penguin Classics Introduction by Tony Tanner.

Available from Amazon.

Posted by Sylwia

Caroline and Darcy

Caroline writes to Jane:

Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister, and to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister.

It’s funny that after mentioning that “[Georgiana’s] relations all wish the connection as much as [Bingley’s] own” she ends her letter with: “With all these circumstances to favour an attachment and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?”

While Darcy’s POV during Lizzy’s visit at Pemberley focuses on the one circumstance that might prevent it, however, what I found interesting now is the use of words:

Not a syllable had ever reached [Caroline] of Miss Darcy’s meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, except to Elizabeth; and from all Bingley’s connections her brother was particularly anxious to conceal it, from that very wish which Elizabeth had long ago attributed to him, of their becoming hereafter her own. He had certainly formed such a plan, and without meaning that it should affect his endeavour to separate him from Miss Bennet, it is probable that it might add something to his lively concern for the welfare of his friend.

It seems that not only Caroline and Darcy where of one mind, but they had discussed it, since Caroline knows that he wishes for the marriage. The similar turn of phrase additionally emphasises their cooperation, and suggests that indeed all Bingley’s and Georgiana’s relations wished for it as strongly.

What I wonder about is how well acquainted Caroline and Darcy were prior to Netherfield. If they plotted behind Bingley’s back already then it’d mean they were very friendly indeed. However, it’s also possible that Bingley was in love with Georgiana at some point. Darcy wrote to Elizabeth that he had often seen Bingley in love before, and Caroline writes:

My brother admires her greatly already, he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing …

The latter is likely a reason for Darcy’s bringing the Bingleys and Georgiana to Pemberley for summer. Elizabeth thinks that there’s no special regard on either side, but if Bingley was infatuated with Georgiana in the past it wouldn’t be unreasonable of Darcy to plan and promote the match, or mention to Caroline that he’d be glad if it happened.

Posted by Sylwia

I don’t, for all this, pretend to condemn the Reading of them. The Best Things in the World are attended with their Inconveniencies; Romances too may have much worse than Ignorance. I know what they are accused for: They exhaust our Devotion, and inspire us with Irregular Passions, and corrupt our Manner. All this may be, and sometimes does happen. But what can’t Evil and Degenerated Minds make an Ill Use of? Weak Souls are contagious to themselves, and make Poyson of every Thing. Histories must be forbidden, which relate so many Pernicious Examples; and the Fable must undergo the same Fate; for there Crimes are authorised by the Practice of the Gods. [...]

Little Regard was had to Sobriety of manners, in most Part of the Greek and Old French Romances, by Reason of the Vice of the Times in which they were composed. [...] But the Modern Romances (I speak of the Good ones) are so far from this Fault, that you’ll scarce find an Expression, or Word, which may shock Chaste Ears, or one single Action which may give Offence to Modesty.

If any one object; That Love is treated of in a Manner so Soft and Insinuating, that the Bait of this Dangerous Passion invades too easily the Tender Hearts; I answer, That it is so far from being Dangerous, that it is in some Respects Necessary, that the Young People of the World should be acquainted with it; that they may stop their Ears to that which is Criminal, and be better fortified against its Artifices; and know their Conduct, in that which has an Honest and Sacred End. This is so true, that Experience lays before us, that such as are least acquainted with Love, are the most unguarded to its As|<145>saults, that the most Ignorant are soonest decoyed. Add to this that Nothing so much refines and polishes Wit; Nothing conduces so much to the Forming and Advancing it to the Approbation of the World, as the Reading of Romances. These are the Dumb Tutors, which succeed those of the College, and teach us how to Live and Speak by a more Persuasive and Instructive method than theirs [...]. [p.145]

The English translation by Stephen Lewis was published in 1715.

Posted by Sylwia

In “The Laws of Etiquette; Or, Short Rules and Reflections for Conduct in Society” written in 1836 in the US by a Gentleman there’s this paragraph:

If you accompany your wife to a dance, be careful not to dance with her. Such are some of the canons of the ball.

Does anyone know if it was the same in England in Austen’s times? Or if there was such a rule in reference to private balls, was it also valid for public assemblies?

Waltz, 1817

I looked through Emma, and indeed, it seems that husbands and wives are not dancing with each other. When Frank plans the ball he says: “You [Emma] and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five, (…) And there will be the two Gilberts, young Cox, my father [Mr. Weston], and myself [Frank Churchill], besides Mr. Knightley.”

He counts married gentlemen but not married women. Also, somebody else observes that Mrs. Gilbert would have danced at the Coles if she had been asked, which means her husband didn’t ask her. Then Mr. Weston opens the ball with Mrs. Elton, but Mrs. Weston isn’t dancing at all. Mr. Elton dances with other women, and then parades in front of Harriet in order to snub her by not asking her. When Mrs. Weston approaches him he says he’s ready to dance with herself, to which she replies she’s not dancing. He’s also ready to dance with Mrs. Gilbert who’s not dancing either. His offence is only in not dancing with Harriet because she’s single.

The Westons behave very well, since they’re giving the ball. However, the same isn’t certain about Frank, since he dances the dance when Harriet is snubbed with Jane Fairfax who likely was more popular than Harriet. The same author says:

“For any of the members, either sons or daughters, of the family at whose house the ball is given, to dance frequently or constantly, denotes decided ill-breeding: the women should not occupy those places in a quadrille which others certainly wish to fill, and they should, moreover, be at leisure to attend to the rest of the company; and the men should be entertaining the married women and those who do not dance. The latter, when they dance, should select those women who are somewhat passees and not in much request, and should procure partners for them, pressing into service those interesting young gentlemen that hang around the room like fossils.”

When one thinks about it that’s also what Sir William did telling Darcy to dance with Lizzy at his soiree. I still wonder about public assemblies though. Suddenly all the business with Georgiana’s coming out looks like a nightmare, since Darcy would have to attend the balls but wouldn’t be allowed to dance with Lizzy.

The same book also says that members of one family invited somewhere shouldn’t be seen conversing with one another.

ETA: In the meantime Nancy from Janeites confirmed that indeed husbands and wives weren’t allowed to dance together.

Posted by Sylwia