Pride & Prejudice, ch. 13: Odd Man Out

Credit to Chris Duke. I really think he captured
the way Mr. Collins wears his pride.
First time we hear from Mr. Bennet in several chapters, and what do we get? A very belated announcement of a visitor who will arrive later that very day, giving Mrs. Bennet less time to get the house ready for said visitor’s stay. For some reason, Mr. Bennet finds the chorus of his wife’s and daughters’ overlapping questions “amusing.” Considering that he already finds his wife’s overbearing manner exhausting, wouldn’t this be the kind of situation that he’d rather avoid? Then again, in presenting the information of a guest’s arrival to his family like this, he is doing the bare minimum of a host’s duties while also stirring up a little chaos. 

Good lord, no wonder Mrs. Bennet’s nerves are fried. Mine would be too if this was the kind of guy I’d been married to for the past twenty years. 

So the man who’s staying with them is one William Collins, the man who will inherit Longbourn once Mr. Bennet dies. There’s a bit where Mrs. Bennet complains that Mr. Bennet might’ve done something to change this outcome (to be fair, “settling an estate away from a family of five daughters” is a stupid rule) which is meant to show her general foolishness. While it’s true that Mr. Bennet can’t just hire a lawyer and dispute whatever legal document gives Longbourn away to Mr. Collins, the fact remains that this is super unfair. Although I’m struck with the idea that had Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had a son, Ma Bennet wouldn’t see this “cruelty” the way modern readers do.

So, this letter from Mr. Collins … man, what a letter. Fifteen years later and I still don’t know where to start. The guy goes from trying to honor his dead father’s wishes, then to a flattering description of the woman who gave him a job (Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a name you’ll be seeing a lot from now on), and then pats himself on the back for his intention of trying to make up for the fact that he will own Longbourn, or “injuring [Mr. Bennet’s] amiable daughters.” He kinda-sorta invites himself to stay at Longbourn for a few days to scope out the place try to “heal the breach,” setting up the dates that agree with Lady Catherine’s schedule. We will … talk about their relationship during the coming chapters.

Here’s an idea: This guy is a clergyman, right? If he’s so anxious about displacing a grieving mother and five daughters, why not make a promise not to push them out of their home? That would certainly do a lot to “promote and establish the blessing of peace,” as he claims is his main goal. I don’t know if this would be feasible or socially acceptable, but I also can’t think of why it wouldn’t be.* 

There’s a chance that Mrs. Bennet is thinking along the same lines, or at least is hoping to get something out of Mr. Collins’ promise to “make … amends.” Jane is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Mary is more interesting in grading his “composition.” But it’s Lizzy who zeroes in on the “oddity” of his “apologizing for being next in the entail,” even though his “style” is “very pompous.” Is he trying to be both modest and self-assured at the same time? Mr. Bennet, of course, can’t wait to see Mr. Collins in action.

Later that day (in which the household staff had hours instead of several days to prepare for a new guest, thanks, Mr. Bennet), Cousin Collins arrives in all his awkward, stiff glory. The description of how he behaves is similar to the one Darcy receives, but because Mr. Collins is on the chubby side and tries way too hard to impress his cousins, he’s much less striking. Mrs. Bennet warms up to him right away, which seems to be a mark against both characters. Most telling? In his first line of dialogue, he mentions being the heir to Longbourn. Then he spends the rest of the evening flattering the Bennet sisters and not-so-subtly taking inventory of the furniture. 

So much for promoting and establishing the “blessing of peace in all families.”

Soon to come: A ridiculous dinner and two sermons for the price of “hey, nobody asked you.”

*Even Fanny Dashwood didn’t kick her in-laws out of their house the second their father croaked, and that woman operates at Mrs. Norris levels of evil.

Comments

  1. First of all, I agree that Mr. Duke’s portrait of Mr. Collins is very like. Almost a speaking likeness!

    This chapter marks the moment when I first began to realize that the faults in the Bennet marriage are not all on Mrs. Bennet’s side. In Mr. Bennet’s defense it is probably true that he aimed at avoiding similar scenes for days on end. By telling his family of the visitor at the last minute he only has a few hours of noisy excitement and speculation instead of weeks of it. He knows there is a room for Mr. Collins which will only need to have the bed made to be ready and that there is always plenty on the table to feed one more person, so there is no absolute need for much advance notice. On the other hand, not telling his wife until now is disrespectful to her and not kind. It is obvious he enjoys pushing her buttons so she will squeal so he can laugh. Not nice.

    Whether the arrangements for the inheritance of the Longbourn estate are fair or not, their provisions have been known to Mrs. Bennet for more than twenty years and there is no reason she should not understand them. Her complaint is more a matter of refusing to understand than of being unable to understand. I don’t think Mrs. Bennet is stupid. Her household seems to run smoothly. The meals are plentiful and good. She is only stupid when she wants to be.

    As for Mr. Collins, he has no secrets. What he says is what he is. His problem is he lacks the censor most people have to tell him which of his thoughts are not appropriate to say aloud. For instance, his scheme of making amends to his unfortunate cousins by marrying one of them is not a bad one. A more sensible man would have written a letter saying he wished to heal the breach between the two families. Once his letter was answered he could send a reply saying he was going to be in the neighborhood and would call, and so on. If one of the daughters attracted him he could go from there. But instead he just blurts it out. His letter, and his conversation, is pure stream-of-consciousness. He is revealed as a simple man who wants to do the right thing and is thrilled by being Someone of Consequence after having been nothing most of his life. He has had a bright idea that he will marry one of his cousins and in one stroke achieve two things: save one of them from possible poverty and please Lady Catherine by taking a wife. “How clever! And how generous!” he thinks to himself.

    I am much struck by your remark, “The description of how he behaves is similar to the one Darcy receives.” There are many similarities between the two young men and I had never thought of it before! They are about the same age. They are both tall. They are both grave and stately and very formal in their manners. They are both awkward socially. And they both have Great Expectations! (Somehow I am reminded of the Duke in Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience. “I have a great gift to bestow. Approach those of you who are truly lovely.”) Mr. Collins is just as aware as Mr. Darcy that he is a very eligible bachelor.

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    1. So true, he's an eligible bachelor and as far as Elizabeth is concerned a somewhat more eligible bachelor: not only in a respectable profession with a good living and on her own level in society's eyes, but best of all her father's heir, a way to keep Longbourn in her family. All great, expect for the fact that he's so awful. Elizabeth's rejection of him is the first clue we have that she really is serious about not selling out, even when she gets her second proposal from Mr. Rich & Handsome.

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  2. Perhaps at this point, I may be allowed to comment about Mr. Bennet's financial irresponsibility. Of course he expected to have a son - who doesn't? (see Sir Walter Elliot). But Lydia, his youngest daughter, is 15. After 5 daughters, any reasonable man would have been alive to the possibility (the certainty?) of having no son. He has an income of 2000 pounds a year. So if he put aside only 20% of it every year after Lydia's birth, there would be 6000 pounds, in addition to the 5000 settled on his wife and children, to leave them - a yearly income of 550 pounds. Not a fortune, but enough to keep them from starving or depending on charity. We will later be told that Mrs. Bennet has no inclination for budgeting, and only Mr. Bennet's love of independence kept them from debt. So he did restrain her spending when it meant he would be inconvenienced by debt. Well, couldn't he have restrained her a bit more, and secured their future after his death? Obviously, he didn't care for them enough to worry what would happen when he was no longer there.

    In Hebrew, we have an expression: "After me - let the flood come!"

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    1. > In Hebrew, we have an expression: "After me - let the flood come!"

      Actually, this is a French expression "Après moi, le déluge" attributed to King Louis XV of France. I have always thought that this was Mr. Bennet's motto.

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