The Annotated Pride and Prejudice
Page 16
19. consequence: importance, distinction.
20. His meaning is that if Miss De Bourgh were elevated to a higher rank, it would not be the rank that would raise her importance, but she who would improve or embellish the rank. This gives a taste of the overdone gallantry of Mr. Collins that was mentioned in the last chapter.
21. peculiarly: particularly.
22. are the result of previous study: have been learned or memorized beforehand. Mr. Bennet is asking such a silly question in the hope that Mr. Collins will give an even sillier answer, which he does.
23. tea-time: a normal part of the daily routine, occurring at some point after dinner. It could include other beverages such as coffee, and usually involved something light to eat as well.
24. dose: dose of Mr. Collins's absurdity.
25. Reading aloud was a popular means of passing the time; often the listeners would perform other activities, such as needlework. Numerous letters of Jane Austen attest to the frequency of the practice in her family. Reading aloud was also a valued skill, one that was taught in schools. In a letter Jane Austen complains that her mother, in reading Pride and Prejudice aloud, fails to do it justice (Feb. 4, 1813). Her brother Henry, in a biographical notice after Jane Austen's death, said, “She read aloud with very great taste and effect. Her own works, probably, were never heard to so much advantage as from her own mouth.”
26. Novels, because of their popularity, were the standard fare at circulating libraries, which were commercial enterprises.
27. Novels at the time were scorned and denounced by many, either as intellectually frivolous or as morally corrupting. Denunciation of novels, with an exception sometimes made for a few better novels, is standard in almost every female conduct book of the time, even as these books praise other types of books and call for women to be well read. The charge of immorality derived particularly from novels' focus on romance and sexual passion, often presented in a sensationalist style; this would make a clergyman like Mr. Collins especially likely to shun them.
28. Fordyce's Sermons: James Fordyce's Sermons to Young Women, a widely read book of the time. Collections of sermons were often issued in book form. Such choice of material could be considered presumptuous of Mr. Collins, for he is effectively taking it upon himself to preach good conduct to his cousins, on the first evening of his acquaintance with them and in front of their father, who is supposed to be in charge of such matters.
29. Richard: a servant. Lower servants would be called simply by their first name, which one would never do for anyone of a higher status who was not an intimate relation or acquaintance.
30. This scene, in opposing Mr. Collins and Lydia, presents a comical contrast between two opposing extremes of character. The choice of Fordyce is appropriate, for his sermons were strongly moralistic and present a picture of ideal womanhood which stands opposed to the character of Lydia Bennet in almost every way. His sermons included a particularly vehement denunciation of novels, in which he says that certain novels, “which we are assured (for we have not read them) are in their nature so shameful, in their tendency so pestiferous, and contain such rank treason against the royalty of Virtue, such horrible violation of all decorum, that she who can bear to peruse them must in her soul be a prostitute, let her reputation in life be what it will …”
The choice of Fordyce may also be a subtle literary reference by Jane Austen to the popular comedy, The Rivals (1775), of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Sheridan's play centers around a young woman, named Lydia, who has been infected with foolish romantic notions derived from novels (just as Lydia Bennet's later foolish conduct will be like that seen in many heroines of novels). In contrast to this character in the play stands the father of her betrothed, whose hatred of novels leads him to call the libraries that abound with them, “an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge.” In one scene Lydia, perceiving his imminent arrival and knowing his attitude, hastens to hide the many novels in her possession and instead to lay out books of a more serious stamp. The most prominent of these latter is Fordvce's Sermons, which (despite having had pages ripped out of it by the hairdresser) is laid open to a section called “Sobriety.”
Such a rift over reading matter also has serious implications for Jane Austen, for it touches on matters close to her heart as both a writer and an avid reader. She always defended novels as a literary form, even before becoming a novelist herself. This attitude, along with her awareness of the negative attitudes toward them, appears in a letter discussing a subscription to a local library: “As an inducement to subscribe Mrs. Martin [the person in charge of the library] tells us that her Collection is not to consist only of Novels, but of every kind of Literature, &c. &c—She might have spared this pretension to our family, who are great Novel-readers & not ashamed of being so;—but it was necessary I suppose to the self-consequence of half her Subscribers” (Dec. 18, 1798).
Her first novel Northanger Abbey continues this point with a lengthy aside defending novels. She laments the denigration suffered by novelists: “Although our productions have afforded more extensive and unaffected pleasure than those of any other literary corporation in the world, no species of composition has been so much decried.” She goes on to denounce many other writings and to say that novels are works “in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour are conveyed to the world in the best chosen language.”
This does not mean, however, that she shares Lydia's scorn for other types of writing. She often read, and praised, other types, including sermons or other works with religious themes. In one letter she declared, “I am very fond of Sherlock's Sermons, prefer them to almost any”—with the words “almost any” suggesting that she had sampled other books of sermons as well (Sept. 28, 1814). Her own works also show her examining the same sorts of weighty ethical issues that might be found in sermons, and thus demonstrating that moral seriousness and the novel are quite compatible.
Chapter Fifteen
Mr Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature1 had been but little assisted by education or society;2 the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate3 and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities,4 he had merely kept the necessary terms,5 without forming at it any useful acquaintance.6 The subjection in which his father had brought him up, had given him originally great humility of manner, but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement,7 and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity.8 A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living9 of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his rights as a rector,10 made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.
Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Long-bourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to chuse one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends —of atonement—for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility11 and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.12
His plan did not vary on seeing them.—Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views,13 and established14 all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority;15 and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tète-à-tète with Mrs. Ben-net before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, 16 and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress for it might be found at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general
encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. —”As to her younger daughters she could not take upon her to say—she could not positively answer—but she did not know of any prepossession;17—her eldest daughter, she must just mention —she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged.”
Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth—and it was soon done —done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire.18 Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty,19 succeeded her of course.
Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before, was now high in her good graces.
Lydias intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios20 in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book, and go.
In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin21 in a shop window, could recall them.22
But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia carne to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement23 when the two gentlemen turning back had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission24 in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals25 to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address.26 The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness27 of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming;28 and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red.29 Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return.30 What could be the meaning of it? —It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.
In another minute Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.
Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips's house, and then made their bows,31 in spite of Miss Lydia's32 pressing entreaties that they would come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips' throwing up the parlour window, and loudly seconding the invitation.33
Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest, from their recent absence,34 were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop boy in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts35 to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away,36 when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself however might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding;37 but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end to by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the shire.38 She had been watching him the last hour,39 she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the officers, who in comparison with the stranger, were become “stupid,40 disagreeable fellows.” Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening.41 This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable42 noisy game of lottery tickets,43 and a little bit of hot supper afterwards.44 The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.
As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.
Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman;45 for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but had even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. Something he supposed might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.46
1. the deficiency of nature: his natural or innate deficiency (i.e., of sense).
2. Meaning society or education have done little to make him more sensible.
3. illiterate: ignorant or unlearned (rather than unable to read at all).
4. Meaning he attended either Oxford or Cambridge, the only universities in England then. Their main function was to train the Anglican clergy. They would offer scholarships to some students without money, which may be why Mr. Collins was able to go despite his miserly father.
5. That is, he only remained the number of terms needed to obtain his degree; little besides such residency was required by the universities, whose exams were very lax. A similar laxity prevailed in the Church as regards the exams for becoming ordained, which were taken after getting a University degree.
6. Meeting people who would provide valuable connections or patronage was a central element of going to university.
>
7. retirement: seclusion; it usually implied a quiet, rural life. The idea here may be that seclusion has kept his self-conceit from being challenged.
8. That is, his prosperity gave him consequential, i.e. self-important, feelings.
9. living: a clerical position, so called because it provided a yearly income. Most livings were bestowed through personal connections, sometimes also involving money: Jane Austen's father received his because a wealthy uncle purchased it for him. Mr. Collins seems not to have needed this, though he does repay his patroness in a sense through his extreme flattery and servility.
10. rights as a rector: a rector had the rights to all the tithes in his parish; a vicar, the other main type of clergymen, had rights to only some of the tithes. Thus Mr. Collins has reason to feel especially fortunate in his position.
11. eligibility: fitness or worthiness to be chosen.
12. It does have generous elements since Mr. Collins, a rector who will eventually inherit a good estate, could hope to find a wife with a larger fortune than the Bennet girls, though locating her would likely take more time.
13. views: expectations.
14. established: confirmed, settled.
15. It was often considered best if daughters married in order of seniority. In some families the parents might even discourage the marriage of younger daughters before an elder was married; this would be to prevent the younger ones from competing with the elder and thereby lessening her chances (of course, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are too lax as parents to bother with such rules). A comical story from Jane Austen's youth, “Three Sisters,” satirizes the competitiveness between sisters that could result from these worries; in it the eldest sister decides to marry a man she dislikes out of fear that, if she refuses, he will ask one of her younger sisters and cause one of them to be the first one married in the family.
In Mr. Collins's case, his strict adherence to the principle of seniority is reinforced by his perceiving that the eldest of the Bennet daughters is also the most beautiful.