“Pride and Prejudice”, by Jane Austen

 

308 pages, The Folio Society

You all have read or heard the quote, I’m sure: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife”. In Pride and Prejudice, said single man is Charles Bingley, a wealthy young gentleman who has rented the manor of Netherfield Park that, in turn, causes quite the rumpus in the nearby village of Longbourn – especially in the Bennet household, which consists of the beautiful Jane, the intelligent Elizabeth (and the book’s heroine), the plain Mary, the silly Catherine and the frivolous Lydia – each of whom have rather dubious marriage prospects, as their father, though a gentleman, has no male heir and his estate is “entailed”, i.e., he is forbidden to sell the property or will it to his widow or daughters, as the settlement deed dictates that his next male relation must inherit. As in Sense and Sensibility, we once again see the unjust nature of the entail system and, through Jane’s gentle criticism, learn to dislike it as much as Austen did.

As can well be imagined, Mrs. Bennet is extremely eager to find rich husbands for her daughters, seeing as they can’t very well find employment for themselves. Perish the thought. When the Bennets become acquainted with their new neighbor – and his friend, the proud and haughty Mr. Darcy – their first impressions lead to some hard feelings (as well as romantic ones). Bingley becomes quickly attached to Jane, while Darcy leaves the Bennets and their friends cold. However, at subsequent social functions over following weeks, the seemingly haughty Darcy finds himself increasingly attracted to Elizabeth’s charm and intelligence (thus proving himself to be, one would think, quite a modern gentleman). I think that, once again, Jane’s criticism of the prevailing societal norms is all the stronger for its subtlety: if the Bennet girls do not marry, they may very well end their days in the gutter. And, as they are women, their options are limited in the extreme. While I am not one to bemoan women’s fate in the Western World as akin to serfdom, as so many modern Feminists are wont to do, it cannot be denied that their options until the present day were curtailed at best. This is on effect display in Pride and Prejudice.

Meanwhile, Jane’s romance with Bingley, continues to blossom, with the agreeable Jane visiting Netherfield at her mother’s insistence, only to catch ill in a downpour and forcing her to stay at the estate. In order to tend to her sister, Elizabeth finds she must hike through muddy lanes and fields and, so, arrives at Netherfield with a spattered dress, much to the snobbish disdain of Caroline, Bingley’s sister; but her vitriol only really takes full flight when she notices that Darcy (whom she is secretly/openly pursuing) pays court to the parvenu Elizabeth. When Elizabeth and Jane at last return to Longbourn, they find Mr. Collins, their kinsman and clergyman who stands to inherit Mr. Bennet’s property (due to all that entailing), visiting their home. Collins is a pompous fool, though he is quite enthralled by Elizabeth, to her utter embarrassment. Shortly after his arrival, he makes a proposal of marriage to her, but she rejects him, wounding his pride (is this Jane’s take on the Church of England specifically, or religion in general?).

The other Bennet girls, in the meantime, haven’t been idle, and become friendly with the militia officers stationed in a nearby town; among them is one George Wickham, a handsome young man who is friendly toward Elizabeth and tells her how Darcy cruelly cheated him out of an inheritance, a tale the already disinclined Elizabeth believes all-too readily, her prejudice against Darcy on full display. As winter falls, Darcy and the Bingleys leave Netherfield for London, quite without warning and much to the Bennet’s dismay – Jane’s especially. Surprisingly, news comes that Charlotte Lucas – Elizabeth’s best friend and the poor daughter of a local knight – has become engaged to Mr. Collins. Charlotte explains that she is getting older and needs the match for financial reasons, rather than romantic, thus bringing home my above observation of Jane’s message in stark terms.

As winter progresses, Jane travels to London, ostensibly to visit friends but really hoping to run into Bingley; however, Caroline calls on her and behaves with the utmost disdain, while Bingley fails to visit her at all. The marriage prospects for the Bennet girls appear bleak, indeed. With the coming of spring, Elizabeth visits Charlotte, who now lives near the home of Mr. Collins’ patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is also Darcy’s aunt; Darcy calls on Lady Catherine and encounters Elizabeth, whose presence leads him to make a number of visits to the Collins’ home, where she is staying. One day, he makes a shocking proposal of marriage, which Elizabeth quickly refuses, telling Darcy that she considers him arrogant and unpleasant, then scolds him for steering Bingley away from Jane and disinheriting Wickham. What occurs here is Darcy being the brave one, subsuming his pride and opening himself to the full-furnace blast of Elizabeth’s prejudice (such is every man’s fate). That Jane creates, in Elizabeth, an intelligent, self-possessed and yet flawed woman is proof positive of her brilliance and bravery as a writer; Elizabeth, while otherwise estimable, is not perfect and, therefore, relatable.

Darcy retreats in the face of this feminine disdain, but returns with his riposte – a letter, in which he admits that, while he urged Bingley to distance himself from Jane, it was only because he thought that their romance shallow; as for Wickham, he informs Elizabeth that he’s a liar and that the real cause of their falling out was Wickham’s attempt to elope with his younger (underage) sister, Georgiana and, in so doing, abscond with her inheritance. This letter causes Elizabeth to reevaluate her feelings about Darcy and she returns home and acts coldly toward Wickham, now knowing the truth about him. The militia, meanwhile, departs, making Catherine the silly and Lydia the frivolous distraught, though Lydia manages to obtain permission from her father to spend the summer with an old colonel in Brighton – whence Wickham’s regiment has gone. With the arrival of June Elizabeth goes on another journey, this time with family friends the Gardiners.

The trip takes her to the North and, eventually, to Pemberley – Darcy’s estate. After making sure that Darcy is away, she deigns to tour the residence and revels in the wonders of this oh-so-English country house; simultaneously, she hears from Darcy’s servants that, as employers go, he is kindness itself. Her thoughts awhirl, Elizabeth is further distraught at the arrival of Darcy who, wonder of wonders, behaves towards her with nothing but kindness and cordiality. Making no mention of his (refused) proposal, he entertains the Gardiners and invites Elizabeth to meet his beloved Georgiana. A letter then arrives for Elizabeth, detailing how Lydia has eloped with Wickham and, seemingly, disappeared (and, evidently, living in sin). Fearful of the disgrace such a situation would bring on her entire family, Elizabeth hastens home. From this encounter, it would be tempting indeed to suggest that Elizabeth’s sole reason for caging her mind about Darcy is her desire to be mistress of Pemberley, but this suggests a cynicism which is alien to both Jane and her creation. It is rather the new reports of Darcy, and his behavior towards her and her friends, that turns her head at last.

The misters Gardiner and Bennet go off in search of Lydia, but Mr. Bennet must eventually return home, empty-handed. But just when all seems lost, a letter arrives from Mr. Gardiner, detailing how not only has the absconding couple been found, but that Wickham has agreed to marry Lydia in exchange for an annual income. The Bennets are convinced that Mr. Gardiner has paid Wickham to do the right thing, but Elizabeth soon learns the true source of the money, and of her family’s salvation, was none other than Darcy. Now married, Wickham and Lydia return to Longbourn briefly – where Mr. Bennet is proper, but cold, towards his daughter and new son-in-law – before they depart for Wickham’s new assignment in the North of England. Lydia did that which no young woman in early 19^th Century England could do: run off with a man on her own recognizance. Jane seems to be of two minds of this: while Lydia seems a strong, modern woman in making her own choice, that choice – made without input from parents, family or relations – was wretched and almost led to a life ruined before it began.

Shortly thereafter, Bingley returns to Netherfield and resumes his courtship of Jane. Darcy goes to stay with him and pays visits to the Bennets but makes no mention of his desire to marry Elizabeth. Bingley, on the other hand, presses his suit and proposes to Jane, to the delight of everyone but Bingley’s haughty sister. While the family celebrates, Lady Catherine de Bourgh pays a visit to Longbourn; she corners Elizabeth and says that she has heard that Darcy, her nephew, is planning to marry her. Since she considers a Bennet an unsuitable match for a Darcy, Lady Catherine demands that Elizabeth promise to refuse him. Elizabeth spiritedly refuses, saying she is not engaged to Darcy, but she will not promise anything against her own happiness. A little later, Elizabeth and Darcy go out walking together and he tells her that his feelings have not altered since the spring. She tenderly accepts his proposal, and both Jane and Elizabeth are married. We come full circle then: Darcy has subsumed his pride and Elizabeth has reformed her prejudice, and both are the better for it.

Austen’s ability to draw compelling, sympathetic and believable characters is in full flight with the Bennet sisters. Jane, the oldest and most beautiful of the Bennet daughters, has a kind heart and a gentle nature; as Elizabeth’s confidant, Jane tries to keep her sister’s tendency to be judgmental in check by offering positive interpretations of negative situations. Elizabeth, “Lizzie”, is more like her father than her mother in that they both enjoy laughing at the ridiculous (like her mother); but while she is sensible, she also makes hasty judgements that are not always accurate. Mary thinks she is accomplished (but isn’t), quotes seemingly deep passages from boring books and plays and sings (both awfully). Kitty is silly and empty headed, but tends to be forgotten by her sisters (and, if I may be so bold, by Austen, as well). Lydia, the youngest, silliest, most man-mad of them all, is apt to act first and think (if she thinks at all) second; it is her actions that drive the plot to its conclusion. But when Charles Bingley and other young gentlemen with large fortunes come into the neighborhood, the Bennet girls get very excited indeed, but each within the confines of their characters.

Reading this book for the first time, after having seen several televised adaptations, I was pleasantly surprised by the quickness of the writing. The tale was, or course, familiar, but for all that I still found myself anxiously following the plot and cheering on the characters, hoping beyond hope that everyone’s true natures would be revealed, love would triumph and justice be done. And it is in Pride and Prejudice that Austen’s character-driven plotting shines through, for throughout you have good men and women, but also bad men and women. For Jane Austen is fair: Jane and Elizabeth are smart and sensible, but then again so is their father; Catherine and Lydia are as foolish and immature as a pair of girls could be, and so again is their mother. And though while Wickham is a cad who is not to be trusted a jot, Darcy is as old-school a gentleman as can be found and as solid as Gibraltar. Jane never wrote a “woman good; man bad” story, and this, I believe, is one of the many reasons why her writings are still as popular today as they were when they were published, 200+ years ago.