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anghraine[reposted from wordpress]
Thus endeth this particular species of crazy.
(13) Why does Elizabeth take such a tender interest in Jane’s marriage affairs, and so little in those of her younger sisters?
A1: Because she cares about Jane, and is fairly indifferent to the others. (I have never seen Elizabeth as particularly attached to any of the Bennets except her father and Jane, and she grows even less so over the course of the novel, until the end, when her principal interest is in shielding Darcy from them. She doesn’t simply fail to regret leaving home, unlike every other Jane Austen heroine; she seems eager, even desperate, to take Darcy and get out, away from Longbourn. Now I feel like Lady Knatchbull — I mean no slight on Elizabeth’s good character or her compassion, and in fact I find her lack of cloying sentimentality refreshing, as with the delightful incongruity of twenty-one-year-old Elizabeth as the fierce protector of her overpowering Lady Bountiful of a fiancé.)A2: It is presumably her hope to live with Jane, should they both be unlucky and enter mature spinsterhood together.
— And I thought I was being harsh! Um, no. Should they become spinsters, there’d be no choice in the matter, they’d live with their mother or on their uncle’s charity. A better argument would be that Elizabeth is invested in Jane’s romance because it ‘saves’ them without sacrificing anybody’s principles. Charles Bingley is literally the answer to their prayers, a knight in bright shiny armour; once he marries Jane, their worries are over. A man took on his wife’s family as his own (hence Darcy’s horrified scruples), and single!Elizabeth would probably live with the Bingleys. In any case, I very much doubt whether that’s anything more than a small fraction of why Elizabeth is so thrilled about Bingley and so invested in the relationship. No, I think that has more to do with Jane’s vulnerability and Elizabeth’s innate protectiveness (not only of Jane — per above, she’s protective also of Darcy, and perhaps to a lesser degree Charlotte; she certainly takes Charlotte’s acceptance of Collins as an almost personal affront).
— Or rather the reverse — something that can only come from not being in the sterile Meryton community all her life. Which would not, in fact, be necessarily wrong. It’s clear that Elizabeth is the Gardiners’ particular favourite and has spent a great deal of time with them, in London. The irony isn’t that Darcy is wrong that Elizabeth Bennets don’t spring from unremitting vulgarity and littleness, but that the people who exposed her to the wider world are the ‘low’ connections he so disdains — well, and that they all get on famously once they meet without prejudice.
A2: If Wickham was at Cambridge, then Darcy was too,
— And why is that? It gives a nudge of probability, perhaps, but no more.
which is why he sees Wickham’s dissolute lifestyle at first hand,
— I tend to think it was earlier than that. Darcy says that it has been ‘many, many years’ since he saw what Wickham was, and he isn’t much given to exaggeration (by which I mean that he does not represent anything as ‘more’ than he actually believes it to be). He also says that he observed Wickham’s ‘want of principle’ not out of any effort or extraordinary perception on his part, but because he could not help it. My impression from all of this is that they were adolescents living in a situation of such close physical proximity that they couldn’t help noticing each other’s habits — ie, public school. And I can easily imagine what sort of ‘vicious conduct’ Wickham might get up to there, and why it would have so outraged Darcy.
On the other hand, Mr Collins was presumably at Oxford, as he has never come across Darcy before.
— Forgive my ignorance, but somehow I was under the impression that Cambridge was large enough to hold the two of them.
A1: Lydia tells her that Darcy could have given her away if Mr Gardiner had been detained. The mind boggles.
A2: Lydia ‘accidentally’ (surely not) lets the ‘secret’ slip.
— Why couldn’t it have been an accident? This is Lydia we’re talking about, rambling on about her wedding, and mentioning something she had promised to keep secret. Is there anything unusual or uncharacteristic about that?
Why should Darcy have been there, one may ask — unless it was with the intention that the information should get back to Longbourn?
— You’ve got be kidding me. He had committed himself to a task and saw it through to the very end. Is there anything unusual or uncharacteristic about that? *flails*
Or perhaps, it was to ensure that Wickham turned up? Was he the best man? Or a signing witness to the ceremony?
— I’m not sure why his mere presence would be enough to ensure Wickham’s. I’ve always assumed he was a witness.
A2: Legally minded critics have sorted out his family history as follows: Mr Bennet and Mr Collins senior were first cousins
— Probably not. William Collins is described as a distant cousin. I, at least, wouldn’t consider a first cousin-once-removed all that distant.
the sons of two sisters
— Whatever your familiarity with law, your grip on the book seems a bit limited - Mr Bennet is a male-line descendant of whoever the entailment began with, and Mr Collins was specified as his heir should Mr Bennet fail to produce male heirs. The likelihood of Entail Guy setting things up so that the grandson of the sister of the wife of his heir would inherit is extremely slim.
Although scholarly, Mr Bennet does not seem to be a university man.
— Why on earth not?
Mr Gardiner is a merchant, presumably, in the import and export business.
— Just incidentally, the Mr Gardiner’s business must be very prosperous given their journey to the North. Also, there is no question in anybody’s mind but that they can pay off Wickham; it’s the Bennets who have no idea how to repay that. I’d guess that they’re at about £3,000 per year and they’ll only get richer over time. (If Darcy lives to a venerable old age, he’ll see the time when the Gardiners are potentially his most valuable connection; his children almost certainly will. Feel the irony.)
(4) When, at the Meryton ball that brings the principals together, Darcy makes his disagreeable remark that ‘She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men’, he is overheard by Elizabeth (and, as we apprehend, her mother). Does he mean to be overheard? Is he, perhaps, a little deaf?
A1: Firstly, Mrs Bennet does not hear him; only Bingley and Elizabeth do. Elizabeth proceeds to tell all and sundry what she overheard, presumably out of a fit of pique. He is neither malicious nor deaf, but simply (on this occasion) careless; it’s a crowded, noisy hall, he’s having a private conversation about someone who is sitting some small distance away, and he looks away from her before speaking. It appears that he doesn’t realise she can hear him. I also doubt that he attaches any importance to the event (I once played with this idea in a story where he didn’t even remember it happening).
A2: Pitching one’s voice in order to be overheard was, evidently, something of a social skill in the period.
— I’d say that it’s the other way around; people are overheard, sometimes to their own chagrin, all through the novels.
Mrs Bennet does it very effectively to embarrass Darcy, later in the narrative.
— A failure to lower your voice is not a social skill. Mrs Bennet is not trying to embarrass Darcy, but as always, speaking her mind without the slightest consideration for anyone else. Darcy isn’t embarrassed, either — just appalled.
It is clear that someone has been gossiping maliciously about Elizabeth. She has not been slighted by other men.
— Uh, no. Darcy doesn’t even know who Elizabeth is. Nobody has opted to dance with her, therefore (by Darcy’s logic) she’s being slighted by the local gentlemen. Yes, sometimes it’s really that simple.
Later in the narrative we learn that Darcy is also under the misapprehension that Elizabeth, alone of the Bennet girls, has travelled.
— Oh, this again . . . except we have no idea what he thinks about the other Bennet girls, just Elizabeth herself. And she has travelled, at least some; she’s stayed with the Gardiners in London.
A1: (1) Jane doesn’t seem to reciprocate Bingley’s feelings. (2) The family’s public behaviour is appalling beyond words, with the exceptions only of Jane and Elizabeth. (3) The family is moderately genteel with low connections. As far as Darcy is concerned, this is a recipe for tragedy. (And if he had been right about Jane’s indifference, Bingley’s situation would have been unenviable at least.)
A2: His motives are never clear, other than that it is his ‘pride’ which is at fault
— Obviously his letter was too short. For heavens’ sakes!—he explains it quite thoroughly, and never imputes his motives to pride, not even much later (when he calls it impertinent and absurd but nothing more).
(8) Why does not Mr Bennet encourage his heir, Mr Collins, in his addresses to his eligible daughters? If not Lizzy (whom he does not want to lose) then Mary?
A1: Because he couldn’t care less.
— I don’t have a lot of respect for Mr Bennet, but it should be pointed out that they have an uncle with a good income.
As Mrs Bennet says to her daughters, ‘I do not know who is to maintain you when your father is dead’. Who, one wonders, is to maintain her?
— Her married daughters, of course. That’s the point.
A1: I’m not sure that Darcy brings anyone to Rosings, as it appears to be a duty-visit that they pay, together, every year. In any case, Darcy’s companion is his mother’s nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Who is not an it.
Plot details? Er . . . Darcy is accustomed to being laughed at, thank-you-very-much, and he doesn’t mind it. Elizabeth can be attracted to plain men as well as handsome ones. Darcy has friendships with people who aren’t doormats, and confides his skulduggery in his cousin — who is suitably impressed. (I shouldn’t, but I just laugh at that. Even though they only appear briefly together, their brotherly camaraderie is rather awesome.) That Darcy’s family tends to share his values, so the anticipated ‘family obstacles’ aren’t figments of his imagination. That Elizabeth is attractive to men who aren’t depraved or idiotic. Well, he’s also the antithesis to Wickham, but that’s not a plot point. Oh, and of course that Darcy’s uncle Lord —- is an earl surnamed Fitzwilliam.
A2: He brings his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, ‘about thirty, not handsome, but in person and address most truly the gentleman.’
— This is mildly interesting because some argue that this is the narrator’s ringing endorsement of the colonel’s character. While I do believe the colonel to have a good character, I also feel certain that this is Elizabeth’s perspective. (Which, alas, allows Certain People to fudge past the ‘not handsome’ thing.)
Apparently misanthropic, Darcy seems strangely averse to solitude.
— Misanthropic? Where did that come from? Jane Austen shows a clear pattern with Darcy: ‘between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship’ — ‘for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed’ — ‘our near relationship and constant intimacy’ — ‘there is nothing he would not do for her.’ This is a man who habitually forms intimate, intense attachments to a very few people and ignores the rest. And he seems to have a gift for inspiring devotion; ultimately, everyone he cares about loves him. (You can’t really ask for more than that!) His well-documented abhorrence for socialising with large groups of strangers is an entirely different matter (which is, however, not-not-not shyness).
The Colonel himself clearly considers proposing
— Er . . . what? What he considers is that his behaviour might have inadvertently led to expectations, and being a gentleman, he tries to rectify the situation as sensitively as possible. While he may have considering a proposal, we hear nothing of it.
It has ‘less of splendour’ but more ‘real elegance’ than Rosings. Elizabeth is already thinking like an owner.
— Um, no. She’s thinking that she could have been an owner. Of sorts.
[they are] helped by Mrs Younge, who was dismissed [handsomely paid off] for conspiring to help Georgiana elope with Wickham.
— Darcy paid her for conspiring against his sister? You’ve got to be kidding me.
She is presumably, at this stage, a mistress
— No, she isn’t. A mistress is an official position; not every woman who sleeps with a man is his mistress.
if [Wickham] had caught wind, as he probably did, of Darcy’s feelings for Elizabeth
— I have NEVER been able to understand this.
A1: Because she’s overwrought and she trusts him. Which is, in a weird way, very sweet.
A2: She gives the unconvincing reason that ‘it cannot be concealed from anyone.’
— I bet she didn’t find it unconvincing.
The truth is that she is looking for a strong man
— *dies laughing*
someone to fill the hole so prominently left by Mr Bennet, who comes out very badly from this section of the narrative.
— Elizabeth knew what her father was, even if it hadn’t come home to her before. Darcy may be more admirable because he possesses virtues Mr Bennet does not, and Elizabeth loves him for those virtues (among other things… she also seems to very much enjoy his personality quirks), but I don’t think she’s looking for a father-figure.
A1: Yes.
A2: No.
— I should have expected that.
— Caroline tells him (he never saw Jane himself), and he doesn’t opt to pass the news on to Bingley. Oh, the villainy.
As in some other episodes, Bingley emerges as either very much duped by trusted friends, or a virtual simpleton. Or both.
— Well, he can manage social repartee, and at least he’s not deficient. Intellectually, you can’t say much more for him. I’d add that part of his problem isn’t being persuadable so much as incredibly impulsive.
A1: First, Darcy is a very partial snob; in fact, his style of snobbery is all but indistinguishable from Emma’s. There is some genuinely excessive class-consciousness, but a lot of it is simply that he’s snobbish when he feels like it, and especially when he’s justifying disliking someone. Secondly, Bingley does have some firmness of mind. And the narrator tells us why. Bingley’s a supremely nice man, good-humoured, lively, easy-going, and well-meaning. And Darcy likes nice. (Incidentally, is there any reason to suppose that Bingley and Darcy are inseparable friends, except that they stuck together during Bingley’s 21st/22nd year?)
A2: One assumes that Darcy likes servility.
— Wha-? No, one certainly doesn’t! And Bingley isn’t servile, anyway. He’s impulsive and suggestible. There is a difference. In fact, it’s pretty obvious that Darcy doesn’t like servility AT ALL. Cf Exhibit A, Caroline Bingley.
(25) Why does Bingley (and his future wife) so readily forgive Darcy for keeping from him, the previous winter, the fact that Jane was in London — causing huge pain to the lady?
A2: Because he is Fitzwilliam Darcy, and not answerable to anyone.
— That works too.