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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):