Pride & Prejudice, ch. 42: Small World

Credit to Ohn Mar Win

The structure of this chapter has always struck me as rather poetic, despite the jolting opening of Lizzy’s reflection on her father’s limitations. We might ask ourselves, why does she feel compelled to admit to herself all the ways that Pa Bennet has failed the family now? It could be because the Bennet household is more lethargic thanks to Lydia’s absence. More likely, Lizzy’s somber attitude is a natural reaction to her father’s inaction from the last chapter. But there is an indirect connection to Darcy here that is echoed at the end of this chapter. Darcy’s negative impression of her family is like footprints in the sand: you can see where he was because it left a mark.

The narrator mentions Mr. Bennet’s “captivat[ion] by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humor which youth and beauty generally give” and how it led him to marrying “a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had, very early in their marriage, put an end to all real affection for her.” This has resulted in a “continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible.” See, I’ve been dropping hints that I no longer respect Mr. Bennet, but this takes it a necessary step further. Lizzy has seen (and will continue to see) the disastrous effects of Mr. Bennet’s clueless marriage to a good-looking single person whose charm initially masks a lack of virtues. (That Lydia will repeat this mistake should not be inevitable.) And Lizzy finally realizes that his favoritism, though flattering, can no longer excuse her dad’s tendency to sideline his family.

With this heavy realization (and poor Kitty moping around the house), Lizzy is more eager than ever for summer vacation. Interestingly, though the narrator refers to Mr. Bennet’s delight in domestic absurdities as an example of “the true philosopher,” it is Lizzy’s philosophy on expectations that exemplifies her maturity. She cannot bring Jane with her on the tour of the Lakes, but this disappointment ensures that every other aspect will please her. “A scheme of which every part promises delight, can never be successful,” she reasons, “and general disappointment is only warded off by the defense of some little peculiar vexation.”* Something to point out is that her father’s philosophy is based on the present, while Lizzy’s looks forward to the future. The difference points to the idea that Lizzy’s character has the potential for growth, whereas Mr. Bennet’s can no longer progress.

Kitty and Mrs. Bennet, at least, eventually forget to mope every day. Lizzy fervently hopes that they won’t be plagued with soldiers any time soon, which shows how affected the Meryton society is by outsiders. There’s a line about Lydia’s letters to Kitty having too many “lines under the words,” planting a seed about Lydia’s level of secrecy (and, when you think about it, these letters are probably the most exciting part of Kitty’s summer).

But wouldn’t’cha know it, the Gardiners won’t be able to go all the way to the Lakes after all. The new plan is to go to … drum roll … Derbyshire. And Lizzy’s like, it’s fine. That’s fine. I’m fine. This is fine. It’s fine.** Turns out that Aunt Gardiner, who by the way I really wish had a first name, grew up in a tiny town five miles out from Pemberley. She and her husband want to visit it (big mansions were treated like museums back then, though no word on whether Rosings would be open to the public—can you imagine? Mr. Collins would volunteer for tour guide in a heartbeat). Lizzy’s like, that’s fine. I’m fine. This is fine. It’s fine.

Actually, she’s more like, aren’t you “tired of great houses” like I am? This doesn’t fly with Aunt Gardiner, who wants to see the “delightful” grounds and surrounding forests. She also thinks Lizzy’s curiosity should be piqued thanks to Wickham’s having grown up at Pemberley, though obviously she can’t know why this is no longer a selling point. Lizzy is actually on the verge of just telling her aunt about her awkward history with Darcy, and I’m salivating at the mere thought of such a conversation, but our level-headed Lizzy slyly inquires as to whether the family is at home. They are not, as it turns out.

So then Lizzy’s all, this is fine. It’s fine. I’m fine.

To recap: Lizzy is about to venture into the household of a man who asked for her hand in marriage, even though her family’s improper behavior almost turned him off, with the only relatives that she both loves and respects. Literally and metaphorically, we’re miles away from an unfit father and his melodramatic wife. But we’re close to Darcy in a way that the reader has never been … until …

Next chapter: Pemberley boasts a cheerful housekeeper, beautiful grounds, stunning portraits, and a master with much-improved manners.

*This is quite possibly my favorite sentence in any Jane Austen novel. It is immediately recognizable as an emotion, can be applied to just about any real-life situation, and is the perfect balance of reason and playfulness that we expect from a Lizzy Bennet in her prime.

**Credit to Lindsay Ellis.