Pride & Prejudice, ch. 31: Social Engagement

Credit to Monica Armino, who did a whole
series of art inspired by P&P.

This one’s a doozy, but it had to be!

Now that Lady Catherine’s two nephews have appeared, she gives them all her attention and energy to the point of neglecting the Collinses and their guests. This belies Mr. Collins’ oft-repeated claim that Lady Catherine’s social graces go above and beyond, because the tone of the narrative implies that the crudeness of her actions is felt by the more sensible characters of the Parsonage. With Darcy and Col. Fitzwilliam in town, inviting Lizzy and poor Maria over is not “necessary,” though the colonel has been plenty sociable on his own.

When they finally are all collected at Rosings, Col. Fitzwilliam and Lizzy happily form their own little clique. This makes sense, as each one is the most interesting character in their respective group (Rosings vs. the Parsonage). Now, naive teen Kelsey was shook (to use current parlance) when she got to this part of the book—Lizzy is getting a fourth potential love interest? And he’s charming, cute, and funny? What does Austen think she’s doing here? What about Darcy?

We’re getting to him.

Col. Fitzwilliam has hilariously been ignoring his nosy aunt, who wants to know why he’s spending time with the single, good-looking young lady and not fawning over her, and who definitely wants an excuse, any excuse, to talk about herself. She latches onto their conversation topic, music, and brags, “There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient.” Folks, is this delusion or gas-lighting? This learned constable lady is too cunning to be understood.

Then Lady Catherine asks after her niece, Georgiana, in an almost endearing way. Darcy assures his aunt that his little sis practices “constantly,” and Lady Catherine tells him that she’s going to write Georgiana with the advice that she should … practice constantly. At first I assumed that Lady Catherine was choosing not to believe Darcy here, but that doesn’t fit into her character. Instead, I think this might be an issue of selective listening: Lady Catherine listens for the word or phrase that matters to her and uses that as a way to circle back to herself. (After all, she does insist that she “must have [her] share in the conversation.”) Then she punctuates this by mentioning that she’s invited Lizzy to practice on the piano forte that Mrs. Jenkinson has, as “she will be in nobody’s way in that part of the house.” 

Darcy reacts with shame “at his aunt’s ill-breeding” and remains silent.*

Let’s pause here, because it’s just too juicy to pass up. Several chapters after Mrs. Bennet embarrassed Lizzy at Netherfield, Darcy is experiencing the same thing: a (female) next-of-kin who has a knack for unthinking rudeness embarrassing him in a social situation. David Shapard points out in his annotation that there is a difference of rank between the two and that Lady Catherine doesn’t have the status of “parent,” so her rudeness is less of a reflection on Darcy. This also shows that Darcy’s sense of propriety is so strict that he is sensitive to rude behavior regardless of who exhibits it. This one line reveals so much about Darcy that it serves to prep the reader for a deeper examination of his character, while making him a touch more sympathetic.

When Lizzy is invited to play on the piano forte (that is, the one in the nice, non-servant part of the house), Darcy walks over to her and Col. Fitzwilliam in a way that Lizzy appears to find pompous. Thinking that he’s about to contrast her playing with his sister’s, she teases him: “My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.” Darcy replies in kind, pointing out that she “occasionally profess[es] opinions which in fact are not [her] own.” Cf. the most sarcastic dance in all of literature. He believes that she isn’t scared of him (true) and therefore has no reason to drum up her courage. In retaliation, Lizzy continues to tease him, reporting to Col. Fitzwilliam that Darcy has a bad track record when it comes to dancing … and the teasing seems to have an edge here as she specifically alludes to the lack of dance partners at the assembly where he snubbed her. When he argues, rather weakly, that he didn’t know anybody yet, she attempts to shut him down by directing her attention back to Col. Fitzwilliam.

But Darcy is persistent on this point. “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before,” he admits, and having to say this to two people who do have such a talent makes me really feel for him in this moment. He feels obligated to be honest about this flaw when he could have just politely nodded and walked away. In other words, he demonstrates in the moment one of the reasons why he can’t make small talk: small talk, according to Darcy, is too close to lying for him to be comfortable with it. Even if the truth is hard to admit, he’d rather be honest than adjacent to lying. Note that this comes after Lizzy has been critiquing him under the guise of good-natured mockery. Lizzy, too, is honest in her way, though she employs dry sarcasm and exaggeration. I am sure he recognizes this on some level; otherwise, he wouldn’t waste his time with her. 

Lizzy educates him, using herself as an example: she is not a great musician because she hasn’t practiced enough at it. Darcy, while admitting that she’s right, appears to take away something completely different. To cite Shapard again: Darcy interprets her words to mean that “just as he does not converse with strangers [performing a role society expects of him], she does not waste time practicing.” However, Lizzy “mentioned nothing of her audience,” because her intention is to criticize  “his failure to practice the art of sociable conversation.” In other words, Darcy is turning her critique of him into a compliment when he says, “We neither of us perform to strangers.”

SO MANY EMOTIONS.

The intimacy of his statement is immediately striking. Darcy connects the two of them in a way that is not quite accurate (Lizzy is literally performing next to Col. Fitzwilliam, whom she has known for all of a week), though he implies that her just-okay performance skill is in itself a kind of honesty. She is as true to herself as he is to himself. At the same time, the fact that he misses her original point shows that he has a long way to go before he can really understand her or let go of his own ego. And it’s interesting that despite his claim, he’s not even putting on a performance in front of non-strangers. Darcy does not perform, period. He ascribes this trait to the woman he’s falling for.**

And where else have we seen a character trying to interpret a criticism as a compliment? Darcy could take a lesson from Bingley, too.

When Lady Catherine butts in, Lizzy starts playing, though she makes sure to observe Darcy’s indifferent reaction to L.C. talking up Anne d.B.’s taste and would-be music skill. It puts Lizzy in mind of Miss Bingley’s ambition to win Darcy over. Darcy appears disinclined to pursue either women, though I think Lizzy still believes that he’s on track to marry his cousin regardless. Why the interest there, Lizzy? Hmm …

Next time: An awkward conversation leads to willful misunderstanding, Lizzy discusses marriage and travel, and Charlotte openly ships Lizzy/Darcy.

*Shapard mentions several times in his annotated editions that men, when faced with rudeness, were expected to make no response. That this is Darcy’s preferred method of interaction makes more sense when you realize how many idiots populate this novel.

**I am getting severe Edmund/Mary flashbacks here.