Pride & Prejudice, ch. 17: All The Wrong Moves
I’ve been thinking about how to react to Lizzy’s discussion with Jane about the Wickham-Darcy drama, and I keep having to step back to get a better perspective. Lizzy sharing this bombshell with Jane seems a little gossipy, and yet, how can I blame her for wanting to talk about it with her sister? And it’s not like she’s spreading it around town, which makes it the opposite of gossip.
It’s the fact that Lizzy blatantly takes Wickham’s side that give it the sheen of a tattle-tale.
Good ol’ Jane, on the other hand, emerges as the voice of reason, though she’s working against her own bias of believing the good in everyone. Her theory that “interested people have perhaps misrepresented each to the other” misses the main point of Wickham’s story (unless she’s implying that Darcy went back on his dad’s promise because someone pulled an Iago on him). But her point that “his most intimate friends” cannot “be so excessively deceived in him” has merit. Bingley’s “being imposed on” fits his character, true—but what would Darcy be imposing on him in this situation? If Darcy thinks he did the right thing, why hide it from his friends?
Lizzy insists that all the “names, facts, everything mentioned” were properly and accurately given “without ceremony,” leading me to believe that her grasp on the concept of “facts” is a little shaky. In the previous chapter, Wickham noted that the “informality in the terms of the bequest … [gave him] no hope from law,” and in the next sentence describes the “bequest” as merely an “intention.” That appears to be the only real “fact” Wickham presents, and even then he’s vague on the terminology. “[T]here was truth in his looks,” Lizzy asserts, and I think that’s key here: she wants to believe that a pleasing presentation can reflect one’s integrity. She’s seen the dark side of pride in Darcy and the emptiness in Mr. Collins’ polite manners. She’s ready for a new kind of man: someone she can trust.
Also, I think she sees herself in Wickham’s story. He has painted a picture of a poor young man with limited opportunities to support himself and who had the “promise” of a career path/home taken away from him. Lizzy’s uncertainty of the future has been thrown into sharp relief by Mr. Collins’ descent onto Longbourn. I don’t blame her for attaching some of her ego to Wickham’s tragic tale of wealth inequality.
In happier news, Bingley and his sisters show up to personally invite the Bennets to a ball at Netherfield. Jane is stoked. The Bingley sisters fawn over her, though one gets the sense that they’re trying not to touch anything in the house. Lydia, Kitty, and Lizzy are all anticipating a dance or two with Wickham. Middle sister (sigh) Mary claims to be “one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody,” which is such a bald-faced lie that I’m worried someone is holding a musket to her head as she’s saying it.
In horrible news, Mr. Collins swoops in to claim the first two dances with Lizzy. She is of course blind-sided since only now does she realize that “she [had been] selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage.” Her “surprise” at Mr. Collins having “no scruple whatever” in accepting the invitation seems kind of naive. Does she really think he’d spend all his time at Longbourn trying to hang out with her anti-social dad? But once she adjusts her radar, she starts picking up on his inexpert “gallantry” and “frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity.” Mercifully, Austen has decided to spare her readers textual examples of these. Ma Bennet chimes in with a “hint” of her own, so now Lizzy can’t ignore the meaning of Mr. Collins’ attentions. But since he “might never make the offer,” she decides to let things be. You know what? “Chill” is a very good look on her.
Rain prevents the girls from seeing Wickham before the ball, which is quite an interesting narrative choice. This means that Lizzy doesn’t have any opportunities to question his story or discuss it further. Can you believe she was anticipating Wickham asking her to dance the first set at the ball? The first set! That’s serious relationship territory. I know couples had to move fast back then, but she’s only met the guy twice. I hope she at least has some ideas as to what to talk to him about beyond Darcy’s supposed transgressions. You’re a wit, Lizzy, not a gossip.
Next chapter: It’s the Netherfield ball, y’all! I’ve yet to split a chapter analysis into two parts, but this one has too much good stuff that I can’t leave out ...
I don’t think talking things over with someone who can keep it just between the two of you counts as gossip. Jane is the voice of reason. Her suggestions are possible. Her refusal to jump to conclusions as Elizabeth is doing is perhaps made easier because she was not there to hear and see Wickham spinning his story. Of course a young woman is likely to believe what a handsome young man says, but Wickham is not just a con man, he is very good at it. And of course the story he spins is the classic despicable rich man persecutes the poor but honest dependent.
ReplyDeletePoor Mary! I feel sorry for her. Jane and Elizabeth make a pair and Kitty and Lydia make a pair, but she is the middle child and alone. I find her attempts at accomplishments and intellectual pursuits pathetic efforts to gain her father’s approval. And all it gets her is ridicule. There is no hope of gaining her mother’s approval, as Mary is the plainest of the sisters. Poor Mary! I hope she bloomed a bit after she was the only one at home.
I believe Elizabeth’s surprise at Mr. Collins’ dancing was due to the social changes which were happening at the time. Many activities in which clergymen had always participated were now beginning to be seen as unfitting to their cloth. Social dancing and cards were some of the first things to be forbidden by the strict as the Evangelical and High Church movements gained influence. As Mr. Collins has presented himself as such a serious person and, what is more, so anxious not to offend Lady Catherine, that it is reasonable for Elizabeth to hope that he feels it his duty to set an example by avoiding the ball.
Again, I think you're wronging Mary. She's not lying, she's conceding the rightness of the ball proposal, and her intention to participate. And to show off her skills at the piano :-). That she does it in a self-righteous manner is a blot, yes, but a blot on her ability to communicate, not on her character.
ReplyDeleteI think my strong sympathy for Mary comes from my own family situation: I was a compulsive, even obsessive bookworm as a child, and my relations with my siblings are still poisoned by that character. Unable to communicate easily verbally (you never see the first, or even the second, or usually the third version of my comments), the few who noticed me at all called me arrogant and standoffish.
I think Mary suffers from some of the same issues.
As a teenager, I think I was definitely most like Mary!
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