Pride and Prejudice

The people of Meryton dislike Darcy almost immediately after he arrives at Netherfield. At the Meryton ball, people are impressed with his “handsome features, noble mien, and the report […] of his having ten thousand a year” (12), until his manners are determined to be proud. Unlike his friend Bingley, he doesn’t speak to or dance with anyone outside his party. By the end of the evening, the town has decided that “[h]e [is] the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world” (12). It’s also at the Meryton ball that he insults Elizabeth, telling Bingley, loudly enough for her to hear, that he finds her merely “tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me” (13).

The more Darcy sees Elizabeth, the more he appreciates her intelligence and independence. However, of the belief that a woman’s poor relations “must very materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world” (36), he finds his increasing admiration of her “mortifying” (24), and the “inferiority of her connections” (51) prevents him from pursuing her. It’s an obstacle frequently brought to his attention by Miss Bingley, who desires him for herself. When Miss Bingley attempts to dampen his attraction for Elizabeth by reminding him of her low connections or independence, Darcy defends Elizabeth; for example, when Miss Bingley mocks Elizabeth for walking three miles to Netherfield, Darcy says he believes her eyes “were brightened by the exercise” (36).

His proud, off-putting behavior makes it easy for Elizabeth to believe Wickham’s accusations against him. However, when Elizabeth confronts him about Wickham at the Netherfield ball, Darcy declines to similarly smear Wickham, merely warning her that judging his character at that moment “would reflect no credit on either” (91) of them. In this way Darcy, though not faultless, shows himself to have integrity.

His proposal to Elizabeth focuses more on his concern over “the inferiority of your connections” (182) than on his love for her, and after she soundly rejects him, he leaves wounded. Though his letter to her serves primarily to defend himself against her accusations regarding Jane and Wickham—he writes that his “character” forces him to “demand” of her “justice” that she read it (185)—when she meets him at Pemberley she finds his attitude much changed. He is kinder and gentler, and he goes out of his way to make her aunt and uncle feel welcome, even inviting Mr. Gardiner to fish at Pemberley and introducing Elizabeth to his sister. He joins Bingley at Longbourn, sanctioning a relationship he’d previously worked to break up, and he admirably tolerates the frivolous behavior of Elizabeth’s mother. Though he makes these changes for Elizabeth—he demonstrates the depth of his love for her by paying off Wickham’s debts, anonymously—they show that, like Elizabeth, he is not so proud as to be incapable of self-improvement. Having spent “many months” pondering his “unpardonable” (341) behavior, he proves to have taken her criticisms seriously, becoming a fairer, more tolerant man.

Jane is the eldest Bennet daughter. Described as a great beauty, she is the closest in age and temperament to Elizabeth, though the two differ dramatically in perspective. Whereas Elizabeth questions people’s motives and is more comfortable coming to unpleasant conclusion about their characters, Jane always sees the good in people and is nearly incapable of accepting that they act out of selfishness or malice. When the Bingley party leaves Netherfield, Jane argues that Miss Bingley could never deceive anyone and that she must simply be warning Jane, out of the goodness of her heart, that Bingley doesn’t love her. Rather than accept that Miss Bingley may be duplicitous, Jane blames herself for misinterpreting Bingley’s affection. When Elizabeth tells her about Darcy’s letter, Jane tries “to prove the probability of error, and seek to clear one, without involving the other” (210). When Elizabeth complains that people continue to disappoint her, Jane pleads with Elizabeth not to indulge in thoughts that “will ruin your happiness” and to remember that “difference of situation and temper” inspire people to make decisions Elizabeth might not (131). Her optimism extends even to Wickham: before Lydia and Wickham are found, Jane never loses hope that they eventually will marry, and once they do marry, she insists Wickham must have some affection for Lydia. Her good heart and refusal to criticize make her a good match for the buoyantly amiable Bingley and inspire her father, upon her engagement, to pronounce that they are both “so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income” (323).

Elizabeth’s best friend, Charlotte is described as “plain” and is 27 years old, an age when her brothers worry about her “dying an old maid” (117). She often reflects more traditional views, telling Elizabeth, for example, that Darcy’s wealth justifies his pride. Early in the novel, she warns Elizabeth that Jane should show Bingley more affection than she otherwise would, for Jane’s “uniform cheerfulness of manner” (22) may suggest to Bingley that she does not love him. When Elizabeth argues that Jane barely knows Bingley, Charlotte tells her that “[w]hen she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses” (22). Though her point of view is set up to contrast with Elizabeth’s, she is ultimately proved correct when Darcy writes to Elizabeth that he encouraged Bingley to leave Netherfield because he didn’t believe Jane’s affection matched his.

Charlotte admits to marrying Mr. Collins because she is “not romantic” (120); she believes marriage to be merely the most practical option, the “pleasantest preservative from want,” for “well-educated young women of small fortune” (117). Her vision of marriage as a mercenary arrangement inspires her to warn Elizabeth not to let her “fancy for Wickham” affect her treatment of Darcy, “a man of ten times his consequence” (88). She believes “[h]appiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance” (23) and that people are better off not knowing their partners’ flaws before marriage. . Charlotte manages her life with Mr. Collins with grace, though, enjoying the comfort of her house and devising routines that put her as little in Mr. Collins’s company as possible; she also quickly learns to bear Lady Catherine’s many suggestions on how she run her household.

Charlotte’s acceptance of women’s subversion illustrates the lack of options for women during Austen’s day. Unhopeful that she will be able to achieve both love and financial security in marriage, and seeing marriage as her only refuge from destitution, she does what she feels is most advantageous for a woman in her circumstances. Unlike Elizabeth, she does not fight against the patriarchal system that makes women dependent.

Mrs. Bennet is loud, silly, and full of folly and obsessed with marrying her daughters to rich men. Her relationship with her husband is combative; Mr. Bennet often gives into her whims in order to preserve peace and quiet. When she doesn’t get her way, she complains of her “poor nerves” or that “nobody is on my side” (108). Mrs. Bennet’s unsubtle behavior frequently embarrasses Elizabeth; for example, she scolds Darcy for disparaging the country, inadvertently revealing her provinciality, and at the Netherfield ball, she speaks freely about how Jane’s marriage to Bingley would open the doors for her other daughters to marry rich men. Her scheme to stay late at the Netherfield ball, like her scheme to force Jane to recover from her illness there, is transparent to everyone and is therefore counterproductive to her goal of endearing her family to the Bingleys.

Worse, however, is Mrs. Bennet’s indulgence of her youngest daughters’ frivolity, which ultimately leads to Lydia’s elopement with Wickham. Remembering fondly a time when she, too, “liked a red coat myself very well” (30), she encourages her daughters to chase after officers, pleading with Mr. Bennet to bring the family on a trip to Brighton when the officers leave Meryton. When Lydia marries Wickham, rather than feel shame over Lydia’s behavior or gratitude for Mr. Gardiner’s generosity in helping, Mrs. Bennet chastises Mr. Bennet for refusing to send Lydia money for clothes. Oblivious to others’ great efforts to achieve this marriage, Mrs. Bennet sees nothing but the fact that she finally has a daughter married.

Mrs. Bennet feels in competition with other women seeking to marry off their daughters and even sends Jane to Netherfield in the rain in the hopes she’ll grow ill and need to stay there. Mrs. Bennet is furious with Mr. Collins, who will inherit Longbourn after Mr. Bennet’s death, but she is thrilled when he decides to marry one of her daughters. When Elizabeth rejects him, Mrs. Bennet calls her “undutiful,” stating she will never speak to her again and that she doesn’t know “who is to maintain you when your father is dead” (108). Mrs. Bennet’s obsession with marriage, though on first glance petty, is not wholly unwarranted. Her frustration with the entail of Longbourn, which makes her daughters dependent on Mr. Collins, is grounded in legitimate concern—a concern reflected in the Lucas sons’ relief that they will not have to look after Charlotte in her old age. With no sons to support them after Mr. Bennet’s death, Mrs. Bennet has reason to wonder what will happen to her unmarried daughters. She therefore is furious at the thought of Charlotte, through Mr. Collins, becoming the mistress of Longbourn, at which time she could choose “to turn herself and her daughters out of the house” (124). It’s perhaps no surprise that, although Elizabeth fears she’ll be devastated by her engagement to Darcy, Mrs. Bennet is delighted, exclaiming about “how rich and how great you will be,” how many “carriages you will have” (351). Her dislike of Darcy, which she’d made abundantly clear, suddenly turns to awe when she learns he will care for one of her daughters.

Mr. Bennet was “captivated by youth and beauty” (221) and “had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her” (221).Knowing he will not find intellectual fulfillment or happiness in his marriage, he’s been committed to finding “amusement” in her “ignorance and folly” (221). He finds pleasure in teasing his wife, who usually misses his jokes. Mr. Bennet spends as much time as possible in his library, where he is “always sure of leisure and tranquility” (69). Though frequently frustrated with the silliness of his wife and youngest daughters, he finds comfort with his oldest daughters, especially Elizabeth, whom he sees as having “something more of quickness than her sisters” (7).

Mr. Bennet enjoys playing tricks on his wife and daughters, for example deliberately not telling them he’s already visited Bingley and watching their excitement when he reveals this information. He also teases them with quick turns of words, such as when he announces the upcoming visit of Mr. Collins, “who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases” (60). Humor is often his defense against his wife’s frivolity; for example, when Jane, according to Mrs. Bennet’s plan, is too ill to leave Netherfield, he tells his wife that “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness, if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders” (32).

His tendency to laugh at or ignore his family’s follies, however, brings on folly of its own. He doesn’t stop Kitty and Lydia from visiting the officers, even though he finds this behavior “uncommonly foolish” (31). His lackadaisical attitude is noticed by Darcy, who in his letter to Elizabeth apologetically suggests her father is as guilty of “want of propriety” (187) as her mother. Elizabeth tries to warn him of “the very great disadvantage to us all” that has “already arisen” from “Lydia’s unguarded and imprudent manner,” only for her father to joke about which lovers Lydia has “frightened away” (216). He allows Lydia to go to Brighton because they “shall have no peace at Longbourn” (217) if he forbids her; he even suggests it would be advantageous if Lydia embarrasses herself at Brighton, for she would be far away from them. His prioritizing quiet over discipline and his failure to see the danger of his wife and daughters’ behavior make Lydia’s elopement with Wickham possible. His gentle-handed manner of discipline is reminiscent of his looseness with finances: he never “laid by an annual sum, for the better provision of his children,” instead “spending his whole income” (286).

Mr. Bennet undergoes a brief period of regret when Lydia runs off with Wickham, telling Elizabeth he deserves to feel the pain he’s caused and refusing to indulge his wife in visiting Bingley upon Bingley’s second arrival at Netherfield. He also wishes he’d had the discipline and foresight to put money aside each year, for if he had, he’d avoid being in debt to Mr. Gardiner, who he believes has paid Wickham’s debts. As the conclusion of the novel draws near, he regains his joking attitude, saying he loves Wickham most of all his sons-in-law. However, there is a note of seriousness in his conversation with Elizabeth regarding her engagement: he objects not to Darcy himself but to the possibility that Elizabeth is marrying him for the wrong reasons, for given her “disposition” and her “lively talents” (349), she would be forever unhappy in an unsatisfying marriage. He begs her: “My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life” (350). His subtle suggestion is that he knows what it’s like to feel no joy with his partner and that he can’t bear the thought of his favorite daughter suffering as he has.