by Jane Austen
45. owned: acknowledged.
46. A statement that indicates the limitations of Jane's character, and of good intentions not guided by sound judgment. In this case, being willing to think badly of someone who deserved it, and to inform others about his character, could have put a possible check on his ability to commit similar bad actions again.
47. pocket-booh book for notes and papers carried in the pocket.
48. HARRIET: Lydia's irresponsibility is revealed by her writing only to Mrs. Forster to tell the news about such a momentous event. Even this letter seems more concerned with laughing and drawing attention to herself than with actually informing the recipient about the important matter at hand.
49. Gretna Green: where they could get married; see p. 499, note 18, and map on p. 742.
50. Thus Lydia almost advises against informing her family about the matter, something that in this society was the most important decision of a young woman's life, and one in which the family was supposed to be heavily involved.
51. worked muslin gown: muslin gown decorated with needlework.
52. Lydia's letter shows how little thought she has given the whole scheme. Engrossed by the present as usual, she bothers in such an important communication with messages about the next ball and fixing her gown—neither of which would have much significance even if she were to marry Wickham.
53. scheme of infamy: a plan to live together without marriage. Elizabeth rejoices that at least Lydia thought she was running away in order to marry Wickham, and therefore did not intend to do wrong.
54. The Bennets first received the news about Lydia and Wickham on Saturday night; it is now the following Saturday (see chronology, pp. 717-718).
55. Elizabeth assumes that their neighbors wish to see them in order to look down on them and feel superior.
56. Epsom: a town between Brighton and London. See p. 498, and map on P 745
57. postilions: men who, for carriages traveling post, rode on one of the horses in order to guide them; they were available to be hired at the places where one changed horses.
58. number of the hackney coach: hackney coaches, like taxicabs today, were officially licensed, and were all given numbers.
59. Clapham: the south London neighborhood where Wickham and Lydia are known to have changed carriages.
60. fare: fare-paying passenger(s).
61. remarked: noticed, remarked upon. Normally two people who arrived in the London area in a chaise would continue in it until their destination—as Elizabeth and Maria Lucas do when coming from Kent. Wickham and Lydia's change of carriage would be unusual, and therefore it is possible that others at the place where they changed might remember them.
62. set down: dropped off.
63. stand: resting station for hackney coaches. Each coach was assigned to a stand.
Chapter Six
T he whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post1 came in without bringing a single line from him. His family knew him to be on all common occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent, but at such a time, they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude, that he had no pleasing intelligence to send, but even of that they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.
When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving constant information of what was going on, and their uncle promised, at parting, to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn, as soon as he could, to the great consolation of his sister, who considered it as the only security for her husband's not being killed in a duel.
Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire a few days longer, as the former thought her presence might be serviceable to her nieces. She shared in their attendance on Mrs. Bennet, and was a great comfort to them, in their hours of freedom. Their other aunt also visited them frequently, and always, as she said, with the design of cheering and heartening them up, though as she never came without reporting some fresh instance of Wick-ham's extravagance or irregularity,2 she seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than she found them.
All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man, who, but three months before, had been almost an angel of light. He was declared to be in debt to every tradesman in the place, and his intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been extended into every tradesman's family.3 Every body declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world; and every body began to find out, that they had always distrusted the appearance of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above half of what was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of her sister's ruin still more certain; and even Jane, who believed still less of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was now come, when if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never before entirely despaired of, they must in all probability have gained some news of them.
Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday, his wife received a letter from him; it told them, that on his arrival, he had immediately found out4 his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch street. That Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom and Clapham,5 before his arrival, but without gaining any satisfactory information; and that he was now determined to enquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first coming to London, before they procured lodgings. Mr. Gardiner himself did not expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. He added, that Mr. Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present, to leave London, and promised to write again very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect.
“I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out, if possible, from some of the young man's intimates in the regiment, whether Wickham has any relations or connections, who would be likely to know in what part of the town he has now concealed himself. If there were any one, that one could apply to, with a probability of gaining such a clue as that, it might be of essential consequence. At present we have nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do every thing in his power to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps Lizzy could tell us, what relations he has now living, better than any other person.”
Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this deference for her authority proceeded; but it was not in her power to give any information of so satisfactory a nature, as the compliment deserved.6
She had never heard of his having had any relations, except a father and mother, both of whom had been dead many years.
It was possible, however, that some of his companions in the —shire, might be able to give more information; and, though she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the application was a something to look forward to.
Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters was the first grand object of every morning's impatience. Through letters, whatever of good or bad was to be told, would be communicated, and every succeeding day was expected to bring some news of importance.
But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived for their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins; which, as Jane had received directions to open all that came for him in his absence, she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who knew what curiosities his letters always were,7 looked over her, and read it likewise. It was as follows:
My Dear Sir,
I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from Hertfordshire.8 Be assured, my dear Sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely sympathise with you, and all your respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove.9 No arguments shall be wanting10 on my part, that can allevi
ate so severe a misfortune; or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this.11 And it is the more to be lamented, because there is reason to suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter, has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence,12 though, at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own disposition13 must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity,14 at so early an age. Howsoever that may be,
you are grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter, will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others, for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family. 15 And this consideration leads me moreover to reflect with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last November, for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrow and disgrace.16 Let me advise you then, my dear Sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offence.17
I am, dear Sir, oc, Oc.
Mr. Gardiner did not write again, till he had received an answer from Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant nature to send. It was not known that Wickham had a single relation, with whom he kept up any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one living. His former acquaintance had been numerous; but since he had been in the militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of particular friendship with any of them.18 There was no one therefore who could be pointed out, as likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state of his own finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery by Lydia's relations, for it had just transpired19 that he had left gaming debts behind him, to a very considerable amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a thousand pounds would be necessary to clear his expences at Brighton. He owed a good deal in the town, but his debts of honour20 were still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal these particulars from the Longbourn family; Jane heard them with horror. “A gamester!”21 she cried. “This is wholly unexpected. I had not an idea of it.”
Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see their father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. Rendered spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours, he had yielded to his brother-in-law's intreaty that he would return to his family, and leave it to him to do, whatever occasion might suggest to be advisable for continuing their pursuit. When Mrs. Ben-net was told of this, she did not express so much satisfaction as her children expected, considering what her anxiety for his life had been before.
“What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia!” she cried. “Sure he will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham, and make him marry her, if he comes away?”22
As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled that she and her children should go to London, at the same time that Mr. Bennet came from it. The coach, therefore, took them the first stage of their journey, and brought its master back to Longbourn.23
The present unhappy state of the family, rendered any other excuse for the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing, therefore, could be fairly conjectured from that, though 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.
Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth and her Derbyshire friend,24 that had attended her from that part of the world. His name had never been voluntarily mentioned before them by her niece; and the kind of half-expectation which Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their being followed by a letter from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had received none since her return, that could come from Pemberley.25
When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in the habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had taken him away, and it was some time before his daughters had courage to speak of it.
It was not till the afternoon,26 when he joined them at tea, that Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on her briefly expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured, he replied, “Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it.”27
“You must not be too severe upon yourself” replied Elizabeth.
“You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is so prone to fall into it!28 No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough.”29
“Do you suppose them to be in London?”
“Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?”
“And Lydia used to want to go to London,” added Kitty.
“She is happy, then,” said her father, drily; “and her residence there will probably be of some duration.”
Then, after a short silence, he continued, “Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last May, which, considering the event,30 shews some greatness of mind.”31
They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's tea.
“This is a parade,”32 cried he, “which does one good; it gives such an elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my library, in my night cap and powdering gown,33 and give as much trouble as I can, —or, perhaps, I may defer it, till Kitty runs away.”
“I am not going to run away, Papa,” said Kitty, fretfully; “if I should ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia.”
“You go to Brighton! —I would not trust you so near it as East Bourne,34 for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter my house again, nor even to pass through the village.35 Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters.36 And you are never to stir out of doors, till you can prove, that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner.”
Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry.
“Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review37 at the end of them.”
1. post: mail. Daily mail service had become a basic feature of English life by this time.
2. irregularity: lawless or disordered behavior. Mrs. Philips's actions suggest the possible justice of Elizabeth's suspicion that others are feeling a sense of triumph from the Bennets' misfortunes.
3. Meaning that it was generally asserted that his intrigues or attempts at seduction had been extended into every family. As usual, public opinion has proved shallow and fickle.
4. found out: located.
5. Epsom and Clapham: see p. 532, and p. 499, notes 20 and 22.
6. The “compliment” concerns Elizabeth's earlier intimacy with Wick-ham; of course, it is more an insult than a compliment to bring up now the subject of that intimacy, and of her impulsive championing of Wickham's supposed virtues.
7. Elizabeth is not in such despair that she has lost her taste for curiosities.
8. Presumably from Charlotte's family.
9. no time can remove: a standard phrase used in such circumstances. It was generally believed that a woman could never erase the shame of such an act. In fact, it is hard to find a writing from this period that does not argue for the absolute necessity of a woman's safeguarding her chastity.
10. wanting
: lacking.
11. Another common idea of the time. It was given most memorable expression in a poem (humorously alluded to in Emma) by Oliver Goldsmith, from his novel The Vicar of Wakefield:
When lovely woman stoops to folly
And finds too late that men betray
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only an her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
To wring his bosom—is to die.
12. It is not clear how much Charlotte has said against the Bennets to prompt her husband's reproach. One could regard strong condemnation on her part as a betrayal of her friendship with Elizabeth, at a time when she and the Bennet family are most in need of support. At the same time, Char lotte could not have avoided giving some opinion of the case in any discussions with her husband and Lady Catherine, since she knew the Bennet family so well, and it would be hard for any honest person discussing Lydia and her upbringing to refrain from mentioning how spoiled Lydia was and how negligent her parents were. Nor would it have taken much information along those lines to inspire moral strictures on Mr. Collins's part.
In denouncing Lydia so zealously, Mr. Collins also may be spurred by his remembrance of her rude interruption of him when he tried to read Fordyce's Sermons to the Bennet family. He could even be reflecting now that it would have been good for her to have attended to the lessons he was trying to impart from such a pious book.
13. disposition: moral character.
14. enormity: monstrous offense or crime.
15. The consequences of Lydia's action for the other Bennet girls begin to appear, for Lady Catherine's opinion is one that would be widely shared. She herself will allude to the family disgrace of Lydia's elopement when she later confronts Elizabeth.
16. Mr. Collins congratulates himself on not having married Elizabeth, in which case he would have had to share far more in the family misfortune because of his closer connection with them.
