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This should get us caught up to where we ought to be before I had my stomach virus the other day - tomorrow will be the 27th and we'll be up to Chapter 27. Huzzah!

Today's chapter accounts for the passage of time for us in an interesting way - with letters. Or rather, with an indication that a bunch of correspondence is going back and forth between Elizabeth and others, mostly with a summary about what's going on.

Remember how the last chapter closed with Mrs Gardiner vowing that she was going to speak to Elizabeth about Wickham, so here she is:

Mrs Gardiner: You're too smart to do something just because I tell you not to, so I feel free to share my opinion with you. You should steer clear of Mr Wickham. I mean, he seems nice enough, but he hasn't got two sovereigns to rub together, and so you'd do best to choose someone else.

Elizabeth: Goodness, but you're being serious.

Mrs Gardiner: I call it as I see it.

Elizabeth: I promise not to let him fall in love with me if I can help it.

Mrs Gardiner: You are not be serious.

Elizabeth: Let me take another crack at it. I understand your point. And the truth is, although I think Mr Wickham is sexy, I'm not in love with him - yet. Damn Mr Darcy for robbing him of his inheritance! Still, there are lots of people who get engaged and have to wait for money, so while I will do my best to avoid becoming entangled, I certainly wouldn't be the first person we know to make an imprudent love match if I married him. Still, I'll try to be less flirtatious when I'm in company with him.

Mrs Gardiner: Maybe you should also stop inviting him around so often - at least, don't remind your mother to invite him.

Elizabeth: You mean the way I did the other day. I understand your point, and I'll try to do what's best. I hope that's good enough to satisfy you.

Her aunt assured her that she was; and Elizabeth having thanked her for the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice being given on such a point without being resented.

Mr Collins leaves and two of my favorite side characters in all of Austen arrive: Mr and Mrs Gardiner, come from London to spend Christmas. Austen flat-out tells us that they are refined, polished people who would not be supposed to be "in trade" even though Mr Gardiner is, in fact, a merchant of some sort who earns his money that way. He is intelligent and educated and everything his sisters are not, and his wife is lovely and smart and entirely proper. They are well-mannered, well-dressed and well-spoken. We are told that Jane and Lizzy are very close to them, and one cannot wonder at it - Jane and Elizabeth are (as has been established) well-mannered, sensible girls themselves. And it seems to me that their time with the Gardiners may, in fact, account for why they are so much better-mannered than their younger siblings, since their mother certainly wasn't a slave to their education and their father was no better.

The Gardiners have come to stay over Christmas. They are undoubtedly going to be at Longbourn for at least a week, since it was then quite common for "Christmas" to mean the entire period from the 24th or so until January 6th. Not long after arrival, Mrs Gardiner hands out her presents, and then settles in to listen to all the various reports and complaints of her relatives - much as Anne Elliot did in Persuasion, when she arrived at Uppercross and was subjected to everyone's complaints about everyone else.

Mrs Gardiner pulls Elizabeth aside to talk about Mr Bingley, proving herself to be (a) a good friend to her nieces, (b) a good judge of character (more on that in a minute) and (c) a kind-hearted, sensible soul:

"It seems likely to have been a desirable match for Jane," said she. "I am sorry it went off. But these things happen so often! A young man, such as you describe Mr Bingley, so easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, so easily forgets her, that these sort of inconstancies are very frequent."

"An excellent consolation in its way," said Elizabeth, "but it will not do for us. We do not suffer by accident. It does not often happen that the interference of friends will persuade a young man of independent fortune to think no more of a girl, whom he was violently in love with only a few days before."

"But that expression of "violently in love" is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from an half-hour's acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment. Pray, how violent was Mr Bingley's love?"

"I never saw a more promising inclination. He was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies by not asking them to dance, and I spoke to him twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?"

"Oh, yes! -- of that kind of love which I suppose him to have felt. Poor Jane! I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy; you would have laughed yourself out of it sooner. But do you think she would be prevailed on to go back with us? Change of scene might be of service -- and perhaps a little relief from home, may be as useful as anything."

The extremely short version, and really I see no need to belabor today's chapter with a longer post:

Mrs Bennet is annoyed with Elizabeth, Mr Collins is annoyed with Elizabeth and behaving in a sulky/surly/churlish manner toward her (but appears to have captured Charlotte Lucas's sympathetic ear), and everyone has left Netherfield to follow Mr Bingley to town, whence they shan't return until spring, and where (hopefully) Bingley shall marry Georgianna Darcy.

And Caroline has sent a letter that reads roughly as follows:

Dearest Jane,

We've packed up the household to chase Charles to London so we can keep him caged up there for the winter. That Georgianna Darcy is SO talented and SUCH a sweet girl and we all ADORE her and Charles is going to marry her, m'kay? It would be SO nice to see you in London, but we know you won't be there. Please write.
Kiss kiss,
Caroline
P.S. Have a merry Christmas.
P.P.S. Just kidding. I don't give a rat's ass about your Christmas.

With a mere two chapters to go until the end of Volume I, you can count on something big going down - else why pay the library fee to borrow Volume II? (If that question confused you, I refer you to my post on three-volume novels in the 19th century.)

This chapter is almost entirely given over to comedic characters, as it's primarily Mrs Bennet and Mr Collins doing the talking.

Mr Collins is entirely certain that things with Elizabeth are going swimmingly well, which almost makes me feel sorry for him. Almost. Because really, how clueless can one man be? (A question that has plagued womankind since the dawn of time, yes?)

Mrs Bennet, however, is gobsmacked to hear that Elizabeth turned him down flat - she knows her daughter well enough to believe her, and therefore hints to Mr Collins that his happy bubble may have a hole in it before racing off to bludgeon Mr Bennet into forcing Lizzy to marry Mr Collins.

"Oh! Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him, and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and not have her."

Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them on her face with a calm unconcern which was not in the least altered by her communication.

"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?"

"Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins, and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy."

"And what am I to do on the occasion? -- It seems an hopeless business."

"Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her marrying him."

"Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion."

Mrs. Bennet rang the bell, and Miss Elizabeth was summoned to the library.

"Come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "I have sent for you on an affair of importance. I understand that Mr. Collins has made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was. "Very well -- and this offer of marriage you have refused?"

"I have, Sir."

"Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is not it so, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Yes, or I will never see her again."

"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. -- Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do."

Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning; but Mrs. Bennet, who had persuaded herself that her husband regarded the affair as she wished, was excessively disappointed.

"What do you mean, Mr. Bennet, by talking in this way? You promised me to insist upon her marrying him."

"My dear," replied her husband, "I have two small favours to request. First, that you will allow me the free use of my understanding on the present occasion; and secondly, of my room. I shall be glad to have the library to myself as soon as may be."

Mr Collins proposes to Elizabeth

I seriously considered reproducing the entire chapter within this post, because it is 100% solid comedic gold. Instead, I will sum up, and link you to the appropriate page at Mollands.net where you can (and, I hope, will) read Mr Collins's proposal in full.

The Setting

It is Wednesday, the day after the Netherfield ball. Knowing that he's got to get home by Saturday, Mr Collins decides to make his move. He corners finds Elizabeth when she is alone with her mother and Kitty after breakfast.


The Wind-Up

Mr Collins: May I, in the most pompous way possible, seek a private audience with Miss Elizabeth?

Mrs Bennet: Of course you may! Kitty and I were just . . . off! To do . . . anything!

Elizabeth: Mom! There's no need for privacy - I'm sure that Mr Collins can't have anything to say that cannot be said in front of the family. Come to think of it, I'm going to get up and go elsewhere myself.

Mrs Bennet: Sit and stay. That's an order.

Elizabeth: [Loud eyeroll.]


The Pitch

Mr Collins: Your desire not to be alone with me adds to your many perfections. Obviously, you know why we're here. "Almost as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying -- and moreover for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did."

Elizabeth: [Is torn between two options: crazed laughter or *headdesk* - opts for stifled laughter, giving herself a had pinch to make sure she does not actually burst out laughing in his face.]

Mr Collins: I have several reasons for marrying. I feel a list coming on:

1. I'm a clergyman, and clergymen should set a good example by marrying.
2. I am convinced it will add to my happiness. (I do not, actually, care if it adds to yours.)
3. Now that I think of it, this should be first. But Lady Catherine told me I should get married.

Those are the reasons for why I'm getting married. And now, why I decided to come to Longbourne to find a wife:

1. I am going to inherit Longbourne
2. I figured if I had to get married anyway, why not do you all a kindness and make sure your entire family still has a place to live once your father died, since otherwise you will all be out in the street?

Elizabeth: O_o

Mr Collins: "And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection." P.S. - I hear your dowry isn't all that large, so I will belabor that issue and its full extent or lack thereof now, but I promise that once we're married I won't say another word about it. Probably. Maybe.

Elizabeth: Whoa - talk about putting the cart before the horse. You forget I haven't answered you. So let me just say NO. Thanks, but no thanks.

Mr Collins: [waves her off] Piffle. I know how you young ladies are. You say no when you mean yes.

Elizabeth: NO MEANS NO! " am perfectly serious in my refusal. -- You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so, -- Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation."

Kelly: Please take not of this wonderful bit of foreshadowing. Because Elizabeth will, of course, meet Lady Catherine.

Mr Collins: If it were certain that Lady Catherine wouldn't like you, I wouldn't have asked.

Elizabeth: "You must give me

Mr. Collins, I presume

It is now Monday, the day after Elizabeth and Jane have returned, and we are told it is November 18th. (In case you've been curious about time's passage . . . well, here you have it. The novel started before Michaelmas (September 29th) and now it's mid-November.)

Mr Bennet reads the first of the letters we see within the text. I am of the opinion that Pride & Prejudice was never written as an epistolary novel, but was Austen's first attempt at a straight narrative in her longer fiction even when it was (in its early drafts) still First Impressions. Perhaps I am incorrect, but I can assure you that if it was ever epistolary, Austen did a superlative job of wiping away her footprints when she switched it over, since it lacks any of the lengthy monologues found in Sense & Sensibility that seemed very much like letters moved into direct speech (such as Colonel Brandon's backstory).

Mr Collins's letter is ridiculous. As Mr Bennet later notes, it's written with a combination of servility and self-importance that tends to indicate that its author must be a fairly silly man. And Mr Bennet delights in the ridiculous, so it stands to reason that he's looking forward to meeting Mr Collins. You'll note that Mr Bennet is quite unperturbed about Collins's pending visit. In fact, he got Collins's letter about a month ago, then didn't answer it for a good two weeks (a fortnight being 14 days, or two weeks). He didn't alert his wife of the need to make a guest room ready or cook a good meal until the day that Mr Collins was due to arrive – this is an example of Mr Bennet being less than diligent about his duties, by the way, as well as demonstrating how unimportant he deems Mr Collins's visit, but I suspect it is also an example of Mr Bennet avoiding listening to his wife go on and on about the visit for weeks prior to its actual occurrence. (One can understand his desire to avoid that, having seen Mrs Bennet in action in prior chapters.)

Mrs Bennet may not be smart, but she certainly is quick to catch Mr Collins's meaning when he says in his correspondence that he is ready to make every possible amends to the Bennet daughters. None of the other Bennets seem to have sussed out what Mr Collins is hinting at here. Have you?

In the novel, Mr Collins is described as tall and heavy. Although Tom Hollander is short and thin, he was absolutely brilliant as Mr Collins in the 2005 movie, as was David Bamber in the 1995 BBC/PBS series. Sadly, I cannot find either one's arrival available online, but here is Tom Hollander commending the excellence of the potatoes – it cuts off before Mrs Bennet can assure him that they have a cook:





Tomorrow: Chapter Fourteen
Back to Chapter Twelve

Oh, Mrs Bennet!

Truly, that exclamation pretty much sums up this chapter. I feel a list of her transgressions coming on:

1. She brings Lydia and Kitty with her when she comes to check up on Jane. She's doing her motherly duty, coming to see how ill her daughter truly is, but there's no good reason for her two most foolish daughters to come as well - it's just them being curious about Netherfield Park. Possibly not a massive faux pas, but decidedly a demonstration of her lack of good judgment. Truly, with Lydia being merely 15, she ought not be "out" at all, and therefore should not be paying social calls. Especially since nothing truly good can come of it.

2. She is such a conniving matchmaker. She wants Jane not to be terribly ill, but she also wants her not to get well too soon - she wants Jane to stay at Netherfield as long as possible.

3. She oversteps when talking to the Bingleys, and does worse still when addressing Mr Darcy. When speaking about Jane, she is "profuse in her acknowledgments" - both overstating Jane's condition and being obsequious while (over)stating the extent of their kindness, all while practically flashing a "Marry My Daughter" sign at Bingley the entire time.

To Mr Darcy, she is downright insulting. She is not clever enough to understand his comment to Bingley about the want of variety in the country, and she not only mounts her high horse but also tramples him underfoot with it.

4. She gossips about the Lucases (who are old family friends) to the Bingleys and Mr Darcy, insulting the wonderful Charlotte Lucas's looks and implying that the Lucases are either ill-bred or lack sufficient funds. It was so improper for so many reasons - (a) gossiping was then (as now) a vice; (b) she is behaving in an overly familiar manner by engaging in gossip with people who are practically strangers to her; (c) her comments about the Lucas girls working in the kitchen comes awfully close to discussing the Lucases' finances, which was then (as now) not acceptable in this setting; (d) she insults the Lucases' decisions regarding child-rearing and criticizes their lack of servants.

5. She boasts about Jane. Not only does she boast, but she also mentions a past suitor.

Poor Elizabeth!

Imagine the mortifications she suffers, listening to her mother. Even though Elizabeth is twenty, she still owes obedience and deference to her, so she can't drag her off or tell her to shut the hell up, however much she must want to. Still, Lizzie's a bit forward in this scene as well - as when she comments on Mr Bingley's personality. She is, of course, better acquainted with Mr Bingley than her mother, but still, the comment about his character is not quite the done thing - it is, however, in keeping with her spirited nature and is also her attempt to turn her mother's conversation in the first instance.

She tries hard to cover over her mother's rudeness and explain Mr Darcy's meaning to her mother and steer her to new topics, but Mrs Bennet not only mounted that horse, but it has quite run away with her. And, to continue with horse-related metaphors and rush right into cliché, there's little point in shutting the barn door once the horse is gone.

Elizabeth comes close to rudeness in interrupting her mother the second time, but it's to cut her off from blathering on about Jane's past suitor(s). Being a bit of a poet myself, I love this exchange, which is a bit charming, really. Lizzie speaks just after Mrs Bennet comments that Jane's prior suitor wrote her several lovely verses:

"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away lov

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Dinner at Netherfield Park

Elizabeth spends her day nursing Jane. She joins everyone for dinner, then returns to the sickroom.

No sooner is she gone than the Bingley sisters start in, abusing her appearance that morning (her hair was blowsy, her petticoats covered in mud, and they even mention that her gown had obviously been let down. Gowns at the time often had quite deep hems to allow for modifications in length if they changed owners or if the owner grew or if the fashion was for a longer or shorter hemline. It was not unknown for an existing gown to be made over in whole or in part for another gown, either, so that as the waistline rose or sank, additional fabric at the hemline came in handy to adjust for the latest fashion. The More You Know*. The Bingley sisters could either afford new gowns at all times or were just being bitchy; I suspect the latter, frankly.

Mr Bingley agrees that Louisa Hurst might be correct in her assessment, but he essentially implies that she is being mean-spirited by defending Elizabeth based on her fondness for Jane. And then, when applied to for his assessment of Elizabeth's conduct, he allows that he would not want his sister to walk three miles in the country without a chaperone (Georgianna is a good five years younger than Lizzie, however) but declares that Elizabeth's eyes were made brighter still by her exercise – a compliment that shuts down Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst for a few moments. You can just picture Caroline stewing about it, though. And you can tell she's got it in for Elizabeth now because she's worried that Darcy is truly interested in Lizzie, since the next attack is on the Bennets' relations – something certain to give Darcy pause. Nevermind that the Bingley family's origins are no better than Mr Gardiner's; in fact, they are "worse", since Elizabeth and Jane have a gentleman for a father, not a tradesman (albeit a wealthy tradesman).

Cheapside is a part of the "old city" in London, historically linked with the marketplace. It was not a bad section of town, really, but was not considered a "fashionable" address during the Regency era, when the area around Hanover Square and Grosvenor Square was more highly prized. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst are amusing themselves by abusing Mr Gardiner, a man they know nothing of apart from his participation in trade. Mr Bingley professes not to care that the Bennets have relatives in Cheapside; Mr Darcy does not say whether he cares or not – he simply observes that their connections would render difficult a highly advantageous marriage (as to, say, a titled peer – and he's correct in his observation, by the way).

Caroline Bingley goes on the attack

When Elizabeth rejoins the party after Jane falls asleep, she chooses not to play cards with them because the monetary stakes are too high. Rather than say so, she uses Jane as an excuse – probably a good call, although Caroline Bingley nevertheless attacks her. First she implies that Elizabeth is a bluestocking (a term for an intelligent, intellectual woman that morphed into a sort of insult – bluestockings were considered unfashionable, frumpy and as something to be avoided), then she and Elizabeth get into a bit of a tiff over the meaning of the word "accomplished."

I was vastly entertained by this video, which is patched together with bits from three different movie versions: 1940, 1995 and 2005, but here's this scene from 1995 (complete with a sexually suggestive billiards shot by Mr Darcy):