by Jane Austen
Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips, till he believed himself to have attained it.17 The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said,
“And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected.18 But it is of small importance.”
“I might as well enquire,” replied she, “why with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?19 Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”20
As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion21 was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued.
“I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous22 part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability,23 the other to its derision for disappointed hopes,24 and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind.”
She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.
“Can you deny that you have done it?” she repeated.
With assumed tranquillity he then replied, “I have no wish of denying that I did every thing in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.”25
Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate her.
“But it is not merely this affair,” she continued, “on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself?26 or under what misrepresentation, can you here impose upon27 others?”
“You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,” said Darcy in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.28
“Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?”
“His misfortunes!” repeated Darcy contemptuously; “yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.”
“And of your infliction,”29 cried Elizabeth with energy. “You have reduced him to his present state of poverty, comparative poverty.30 You have withheld the advantages, which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life, ofthat independence31 which was no less his due than his desert.32 You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule.”
“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.33 These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy34 concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by every thing.35 But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.36 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?”
Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment;37 yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said,
“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.”
She saw him start at this,38 but he said nothing, and she continued,
“You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on.
“From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immoveable a dislike; and 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.”
“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”39
And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house.
The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half an hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! that he should have been in love with her for so many months! so much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case,40 was almost incredible! it was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection.41 But his pride, his abominable pride, his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane, his unpardonable assurance42 in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited.
She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room.
1. The crucial chapter in the book. It comes almost at the midway point, and marks the culmination of the first half of the book, whose principal subject has been the growth in misunderstanding between Darcy and Elizabeth, and the growth of her dislike of him.
2. revival: remembering.
3. Jane, of course, would never include such complaints in a letter of hers. She hardly even admitted to being ill in her letter informing her family of her cold.
4. In fact, Elizabeth has no basis for believing that Darcy has boasted of inflicting misery. He only congratulated himself on helping his friend (and he soon reveals that he did not believe it would cause Jane misery). Of course, Elizabeth, after what she has heard of Darcy's actions regarding Jane, is even less disposed than before to be fair to him. This new revelation, and the extreme anger it provokes, has come at a particularly significant time, for it mean
s that, immediately before one of the most crucial scenes in the book, she is more harshly disposed toward Darcy than she ever has been.
5. intentions: intentions to marry her.
6. Elizabeth's not being well provides Darcy with a good excuse to come, but his hasty manner of inquiry shows that it is only an excuse. One does not know how long before this he decided to propose to her, or was leaning in that direction, but clearly the report of Elizabeth's illness has inspired him to propose now by presenting him with an ideal opportunity.
7. I admire and love you: such a statement would be considered an offer of marriage, as Elizabeth immediately does consider it, for it would be highly improper for a man to speak such words to a single woman in normal conversation.
8. coloured: blushed.
9. doubted, and was silent: wondered if he were serious, until, being convinced he was, she fell silent.
10. In other words, he was as eloquent in speaking of his family pride as in offering words of tenderness to her.
11. Meaning that his reason, which told him that marriage to her would degrade him, had checked his love.
12. consequence he was wounding: the family position and pride he was harming (by his proposal to a woman beneath him socially).
13. his suit: proposal, suing for her hand. Since complimenting one's lover is such standard practice in marriage proposals, it is remarkable that a man as intelligent as Darcy would speak so insultingly. Part of the reason is undoubtedly his strong feelings of pride, along with the frankness (something he boasts of shortly) that makes him hesitate to disguise these feelings. Part of the reason is his evident confidence in being accepted, which keeps him from worrying too much about antagonizing her. Finally, it is possible that, in his myopic way, he conceives of his words as a compliment—i.e., “even though I object to your family and social position, your personal charms are so great that I am overlooking all that”—and expects her to receive them as such.
14. insensible: indifferent.
15. security: confidence or assurance (that she will accept him). Since expressing fear of not being accepted was standard form in proposals, his having done so does him little credit when it is accompanied by looks signaling such opposite feelings.
16. Elizabeth is taking the opportunity to turn Darcy's arrogant words against him by using them as a good reason why she need not bother to speak more politely and thereby let him down more gently.
17. Even here Darcy strives to avoid weakness, in this case the weakness of losing self-control and speaking under the influence of too much emotion and anger.
18. As Elizabeth said, her reply violated the usual form of rejection, in which one politely expressed gratitude. This adds to the offense of the rejection. Of course, as Elizabeth goes on to say, he was uncivil in the way he asked her.
19. even against your character: even against your moral character or qualities. In other words, Elizabeth says he spoke as if asking for her hand violated his moral principles or integrity, something she naturally considers the worst implication of all in his words.
20. It could be argued that Elizabeth's mention of Jane and Bingley represents a violation of her pledge to Colonel Fitzwilliam to keep silent about what he told her of Darcy's interference in Bingley's affairs, though Colonel Fitzwilliam's main concern was to prevent the matter from becoming generally known, not to prevent Darcy himself from hearing of it again.
21. emotion: agitation, disturbance of mind.
22. ungenerous: ignominious.
23. instability: unsteadiness, lack of firmness.
24. Because marriage was regarded as such serious business, a man who abandoned a woman after wooing her would be harshly condemned, and a woman who was jilted would be ridiculed. In the case of Bingley and Jane, matters had not reached such a serious stage that either would suffer badly in those ways—though of course they both do suffer in another way, in their own hearts. Elizabeth's anger makes her exaggerate.
25. Meaning that, since marriage to Jane or Elizabeth would be so degrading for either of them, he has treated Bingley better than he has treated himself. It is no wonder that this “civil reflection” does not conciliate Elizabeth.
26. In other words, you [Darcy] justify your conduct with Bingley by claiming, falsely, that it was an act of friendship, but in Wickham's case even that excuse will be impossible to attempt.
27. impose upon: deceive.
28. We see that this subject truly angers Darcy, in contrast to the subject of Bingley and Jane.
29. of your infliction: inflicted by you.
30. Elizabeth corrects herself slightly, since Wickham is not actually poor.
31. independence: something that allows one to live comfortably. The reference is to the living Darcy denied Wickham.
32. no less his due than his desert: no less his legal right than his moral right. In other words, Wickham deserved the living according to the legal provisions of the will, and according to general principles of morality or fairness.
33. Darcy's accusation that Elizabeth's judgment has been distorted by pride has a particular irony, since Darcy follows it with his own proud assertions regarding his frankness and his social superiority.
34. policy: artfulness, shrewdness, skillful management. Darcy still cannot accept that Elizabeth is refusing him on substance, and thus tries to attribute her reaction to his style of proposing.
35. Darcy is satirizing the normal mode of proposing, with its exaggerated compliments. This mode appeared in full force in Mr. Collins's proposal.
36. A central credo of his, one that is a source of his pride. Later his aunt, Lady Catherine, will boast of a similar frankness to Elizabeth. Of course, absolute frankness is easier if, like Darcy or Lady Catherine, one is rich and powerful enough not to need others' favor and thereby not to have to worry about offending them. For Darcy this may be the first time in his adult life when he has been reduced to seeking something of great importance from someone else, especially someone not inclined to give it. He is thus placed in the position of more ordinary mortals and forced to learn some new and valuable lessons.
37. Elizabeth's growing anger may result from Darcy's reiteration of his contempt for her family and social position; it also could result from Darcy's assertion that she only rejected him because of his frankness, an assertion that implies that she is such a shallow person that she would accept a man she objected to merely because he flattered her. Whatever the reason, it is at this point that Elizabeth's anger boils over enough to inspire the truly devastating words that conclude her rejection of him.
38. Toward the end of the story the great significance of this start will be revealed, as will its relationship to the words just spoken by Elizabeth.
39. It is significant that even after receiving such a brutal, and unexpected, rebuke, Darcy is able to depart with words of courtesy.
40. Since Darcy is wealthier and from a longer established and more highly connected family than Bingley, he would be lowering himself socially even more.
41. Elizabeth does not overlook the compliment to her own vanity in Darcy's proposal, even amidst her overall anger and agitation.
42. assurance: cockiness, impudence.
Chapter Twelve1
E lizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of any thing else, and totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in2 air and exercise. She was proceeding directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane, which led her farther from the turnpike road. The park paling3 was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the ground.4
After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look
into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent, had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees.5 She was on the point of continuing her walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park; he was moving that way; and fearful of its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced, was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name. She had turned away, but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also, and holding out a letter, which she instinctively took, said with a look of haughty composure,6 “I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?”7—And then, with a slight bow, turned again into the plantation,8 and was soon out of sight.
With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter,9 and to her still increasing wonder, perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written quite through,10 in a very close hand.11—The envelope itself was likewise full.12 —Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning, and was as follows: —
Be not alarmed, Madam,13' on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting14 to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation,15 and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared, had not my character16 required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.17
