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Welcome earthlings to the Awful Book of the Month! In this thread, we choose one work of Resources: Project Gutenberg - http://www.gutenberg.org - A database of over 17000 books available online. If you can suggest books from here, that'd be the best. SparkNotes - http://www.sparknotes.com/ - A very helpful Cliffnotes-esque site, but much better, in my opinion. If you happen to come in late and need to catch-up, you can get great character/chapter/plot summaries here.  For recommendations on future material, suggestions on how to improve the club, or just a general rant, feel free to PM me. Past Books of the Month 2011: January: John Keats, Endymion Febuary/March: Miguel Cervantes, Don Quixote April: Laurell K. Hamilton, Obsidian Butterfly May: Richard A. Knaak - Diablo #1: Legacy of Blood June: Pamela Britton - On The Move July: Raymond Chandler - The Big Sleep August: Louis L'Amour - Bendigo Shafter September: Ian Fleming - Moonraker October: Ray Bradbury - Something Wicked This Way Comes November: John Ringo - Ghost December: James Branch Cabell - Jurgen 2012: January: G.K. Chesterton - The Man Who Was Thursday Febuary: M. Somerset Maugham - Of Human Bondage March: Joseph Heller - Catch-22 April: Zack Parsons - Liminal States May: Haruki Murakami - Norwegian Wood June: James Joyce - Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man July: William S. Burroughs - Naked Lunch August: William Faulkner - The Sound & The Fury September/October: Leo Tolstoy - War & Peace November: David Mitchell - Cloud Atlas December: Kurt Vonnegut - Mother Night 2013 January: Walter M. Miller - A Canticle for Liebowitz Febuary: Alfred Bester - The Stars My Destination March: Kazuo Ishiguro - Remains Of The Day April: Don Delillo - White Noise May: Anton LeVey - The Satanic Bible June/July: Susanna Clarke - Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell August: Michael Swanwick - Stations of the Tide September: John Wyndham - Day of the Triffids October: Shirley Jackson - The Haunting of Hill House November: Iain Banks - The Wasp Factory December: Roderick Thorp - Nothing Lasts Forever 2014: January: Ursula K. LeGuin - The Left Hand of Darkness February: Mikhail Bulgalov - Master & Margarita March: Richard P. Feynman -- Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman! April: James Joyce -- Dubliners May: Gabriel Garcia Marquez -- 100 Years of Solitude June: Howard Zinn -- A People's History of the United States July: Mary Renault -- The Last of the Wine August: Barbara Tuchtman -- The Guns of August Current: Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice The one, the only. This might be the most challenging book we've tackled for the Book of the Month, but we can handle it! A lot of people have a big problem reading Austen. She seems boring, etc. Thing is, she was probably the greatest prose stylist before the 20th century and her stuff is brilliant. But there's a huge but to her work: she was writing exclusively for 18th & 19th-century upper class British aristocrats and spends absolutely zero time explaining setting or context. As a result, if you don't have a detailed knowledge of everything an 18th century British aristocrat would know, if you don't have (for example) a detailed knowledge of exactly what the differences are between a gig, a phaeton, a curricle, a barouche, and a landau, you'll miss three-quarters of her jokes. Think of it like reading Tolkien if Tolkien never explained what an elf or an orc or a wizard or a hobbit was because all his readers already knew -- you'd have to go read some horrible nerd website to figure all that stuff out before you could enjoy the story. You gotta do the research to get the context of what's going on.If you put in the work, though, she really does reward you; her prose is sharper and more layered with more separate blades than Gillette's most modern razor, and her plots and characters have become the framework for whole genres. So what we're gonna do this month is put in that work. Free online annotated edition here. Kindle edition download here: http://www.amazon.com/Pride-Prejudice-Jane-Austen-ebook/dp/B008476HBM About the Author quote:Jane Austen (/ˈdʒeɪn ˈɔːstən/; 16 December 1775 – 18 July 1817) was an English novelist whose works of romantic fiction, set among the landed gentry, earned her a place as one of the most widely read writers in English literature. Her realism, biting irony and social commentary have gained her historical importance among scholars and critics.[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Austen Discussion, Questions & Themes: W.H. Auden, from Letters to Lord Byron: quote:
G. K. Chesterton: quote:It is certain that [ Jane Austen] by her own artistic talent made interesting what thousands of superficially similar people would have made dull.” A few relevant quotes excerpted from Nabokov's lecture on Mansfield Park: quote:At first Jane Austen’s manner and matter may seem to be old-fashioned, stilted, unreal. But this is a delusion to which the bad reader succumbs. The good reader is aware that the quest for real life, real people, and so forth is a meaningless process when speaking of books. In a book, the reality of a person, or object, or a circumstance depends exclusively on the world of that particular book. An original author always invents an original world, then we experience the pleasurable shock of artistic truth, no matter how unlikely the person or thing may seem if transferred into what book reviewers, poor hacks, call “real life”. . . . quote:"In my academic days I endeavored to provide students of literature with exact information about details, about such combinations of details as yeild the sensual psakr without which a book is dead. In that respect, general ideas are of no importance. Any rear end can assimilate the main points of Tolstoy's attiude toward adultery, but in order to enjoy Tolstoy's art the good reader must wish to visualize, for instance, the arrangement of a railway carriage on the Moscow-Petersburg night train as it was a hundred years ago. Here diagrams are most helpful. Instead of prepetuating the petentious nonsense of Homeric, chromatic, and visceral chapter headings, instructors should prepare maps of Dublin... without a visual perception of the larch labyrinth in Mansfield Park that novel loses some of its stereographic charm..." Further Resources: 1) Even though it's more about Mansfield Park, Nabokov's essay on Jane Austen quoted above is very much worth reading, and I recommend it to everyone -- unfortunately there's no copy available for free online. 2) The hardest part of Austen is getting your head into her world. To that end, I'm going to suggest that we all cheat a bit and watch this six part BBC miniseries in parallel while we read the book. This miniseries does a really good job of conjuring the setting and atmosphere and period and all the thousand details you might not get if you didn't live in that time period. This isn't like required for participation or anything, but just a suggestion if you're having a hard time getting into it, and something we can compare & contrast for discussion's sake. 3) Another useful book to refer to might be What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew, a great little background encyclopedia on many details of 19th century british life. I've got a copy of this and I'll toss in notes from it where I remember to and it seems relevant. Pacing As an experiment, I'm going to ask that we all tackle this as a Let's Read & Watch. The book has sixty chapters, and the BBC version has six parts, and the month has 30 days. So: September 1-5th: Chapters 1-10, BBC Part 1 September 5-10: Chapters 11-20, BBC Part 2 September 11-15 Chapters 21-30, BBC Par 3 September 16-20, Chapters 31-40, BBC Part 4 September 21-25, Chapters 41-50, BBC Part 5 September 26-30, Chapters 51-61, BBC Part 6 Let's try to keep pace together. If you fall behind that's ok, you can comment on any section we've already read; if you get ahead, try to keep your comments focused on what we're watching & reading at the time. I'm not going to enforce a no-spoilers policy or anything though. Final Note: If you have any suggestions to change, improve or assess the book club generally, please PM or email me -- i.e., keep it out of this thread -- at least until into the last five days of the month, just so we don't derail discussion of the current book with meta-discussion. I do want to hear new ideas though, seriously, so please do actually PM or email me or whatever, or if you can't do either of those things, just hold that thought till the last five days of the month before posting it in this thread. Thanks, and I hope everyone enjoys the book! Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 20:29 on Sep 1, 2014 |
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Sep 1, 2014 20:07
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Let's just start by looking at that first line:quote:IT is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. That first line does so much lifting. What sort of story is this going to be? It's going to be a story about rich people getting married. More subtly, though, what "universe" are we talking about? The universe of upper class British women. Clearly the men, especially the single men, have not been consulted. It also packs a hell of an ironic wallop: the narrator here clearly knows exactly how isolated a viewpoint that "universe" has, and is clearly mocking the hell out of it. That's the sort of layered writing I think we want to be on the lookout for. Austen's sentences will sometimes pack as many as three or four or even arguably five different levels of irony (character speaking, character hearing, narrator, author, reader). This is sharp, layered writing.
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Sep 1, 2014 20:15
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Well, Amazon's taken its own sweet time delivering the annotated edition I ordered, so I'm a little behind schedule if we're going to be moving at the rate we need to -- around two chapters a day -- but they're short chapters so it shouldn't take us long to catch up once things are moving. Chapter One opens in the Bennet parent's home, with a conversation between the Parents Bennett. quote:``My dear Mr. Bennet,'' said his lady to him one day, ``have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?'' This is lightly funny passage and the easy, surface reading is that it's the calm, sedate Father Bennet teasing his wife for being a silly gossip. I have to wonder if there isn't another side to it though. Think about the society this novel is taking place in. P&P was published in 1813. Under the laws of the time, married women did not legally even exist; unmarried women had almost no opportunity to meet single men, and it would have been scandalous even for a married matron to introduce herself to a single man. When Mr. Bennett suggests his wife go introduce herself to Mr. Bingely, he's not being just practical; he's actually making a somewhat racy joke -- think of it as if he'd just calmly suggested to his wife that she and her daughters send the new arrival nude selfies by way of introduction (obviously an exaggeration, but you get the idea). Also note that "four thousand pounds" of yearly income for Mr. Bingley. I'll talk more about that later (I want to bring in some data from Capital in the TWenty First Century which I think goes over income figures in Austen's England). For now, just keep in mind that a farm laborer might be making a grand total yearly salary of around twenty five pounds. So you wont' be too far off if you multiply all the pound figures you see in the novel by around 400 -- making a laborer's salary of 25 pounds a year roughly $10,000 modern dollars, and four thousand a year roughly, say, a million six hundred thousand dollars. In yearly income. Also keep in mind that there aren't any social safety nets of any significance, no social security, no dole; there are almost no employment opportunities for women (apart from very limited opportunities as a governess, or the path of desperation and eventual prostitution we see Fontine take half a century later in Les Miserables); women can't be farm laborers, they can't hold skilled jobs because they can't learn skilled trades, they can't own property in their own names. The industrial revolution won't start for another decade or two, so factory work isn't an option either. If you want to stay alive, if you want to eat, if you want any comfort or happiness in life at all -- and you also happen to be female -- you have to marry well. And that marriage will be horribly dangerous and risky; you are fairly likely to die in childbirth; if your husband beats you or sleeps around you have essentially no legal recourse. Basically, if you're an upper-class female in Austen's era, your entire life is going to be staked on a single high-stakes gamble, your marriage. It's hugely important. And that's what Mrs. Bennett is desperately trying to get through her husband's thick skull in this passage! And he's just not getting it! Perhaps deliberately, just to tease her! I think that's the second layer to this passage. Austen's female contemporaries would have had a reflexive sympathy for Mrs. Bennett here, because she was worrying about something they had all themselves deeply worried about. To a modern reader it all sounds somewhat silly, and therefore so does Ms. Bennett -- especially since she is, in fact, drawn by Austen in a somewhat silly way, and Mr. Bennett definitely sees her as somewhat silly. But under the silliness is a serious issue. This isn't just a romance story; it's an economic one. The prospect of marriage for the Bennett daughters is the college application, the job interview, and marriage, all rolled up into a single ball. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 20:35 on Sep 3, 2014 |
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Sep 3, 2014 19:36
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Great read so far, I enjoy your commentary as I wasn't aware of how bad it used to be for women. I'll try to read along as well.
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Sep 3, 2014 20:17
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Ok, a couple more chapters while I have some free time. Chapter Two. This is mostly more teasing among the Bennetts. The first important passage is this one: quote:MR. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was paid, she had no knowledge of it. So Mr. Bennett likes to prank his wife but ultimately he does actually care about his daughter's futures. He's also not nearly as oblivious as he was pretending to be last chapter. Note also that unlike all the women, Mr. Bennett can just introduce himself, at least to a new arrival in the area. But the women don't know he's gone and introduced himself yet, so they're trying to figure out how to meet him without looking like tramps. quote:
What on earth are "The Assemblies" ? You can find a really interesting summary, or set of summaries, here here, but basically, they were large public parties for everyone who was anyone who lived in a given area. They were a big deal. Remember that -- especially in the countryside, where we see the Bennetts -- this is an isolated, distributed society, without quick travel via automobiles, without telephones, without radio, without television. If you want to talk to someone else, you have to physically travel to them, and that's probably going to take a few hours there and back even if they live comparatively close by. If you want to meet new people, you don't get many chances -- you can't just go to a bar or something, that's not an option. SO parties aren't something that happens often and when they do they're a big deal -- think Bilbo's Birthday Party in the opening section of Lord of the Rings. We'll talk more about these later. For now, just know that the Assemblies are basically big public parties, probably the only big public parties in the area; you have to be someone of social note to be admitted. They're also one of the very, very few opportunities you would ever get to meet new people. The end of the chapter comes when the family realizes that Mr. Bennett has gone to visit the new arrival, so the new arrival will probably be coming to visit them in return. Again, this is a big deal! New people! You've been shut up in the house with nobody to talk to except your own family and the servants for years! Finally someone else to talk to! Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 21:09 on Sep 3, 2014 |
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Sep 3, 2014 21:01
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Hieronymous Alloy posted:The one, the only. This might be the most challenging book we've tackled for the Book of the Month, but we can handle it! Wow, goons are terrible. You should assign "Pamela" next to punish them for finding Jane Austen hard to read.
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Sep 3, 2014 22:32
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Hieronymous Alloy posted:
If you were a woman in a wealthy household, you wouldn't go hungry if you didn't marry. I think Mr. Bennett would be a lot less dismissive of his wife if this were the case.
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Sep 3, 2014 22:40
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Kelfeftaf posted:If you were a woman in a wealthy household, you wouldn't go hungry if you didn't marry. I think Mr. Bennett would be a lot less dismissive of his wife if this were the case. Well, yeah, I'm exaggerating a bit so as to drive the point home. But there is a real danger here if your luck runs sour and you aren't part of a wealthy household any more (such as, for example, all the money goes somewhere else because it's entailed, etc., which we'll get into later!) The only effective social safety net in this society is the family. The main point for now is just that upper-class women don't have many options or alternatives; you can marry, you can governess (maybe), or you can be dependent on relatives. For a modern reader, that's the first mental hurdle to get past -- you have to realize why marriage is so important or the whole novel loses a lot of its resonance.. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 23:04 on Sep 3, 2014 |
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Sep 3, 2014 22:50
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I'm re-reading this for the first time in years, so any future disasters that might befall the family I'm ignorant of. So far: - Mr. Bennett hates his wife. - I vaguely remember all the sisters except Lizzie being tired caricatures, especially the bookish one. I hope I don't find this the case this time around. - I like how every man's income is publicly known. Were people just really open about how much they made during this time period?
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Sep 3, 2014 23:18
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More on the Economics. In this post I'm going to go into a little more detail on the economic and social background of Austen's world. If you don't care about that and just want BookTalk, you can skip this, but some more detail might help get a picture of the world we're dealing with. Economist Thomas Piketty wrote a book recently titled Capital in the Twenty First Century. You may have heard of it because it gave everyone on Fox News a heart attack, basically a modern economist building seriously on the work of Marx; his central thesis is that for most of history the average rate of return on capital has been 5% or so, i.e., significantly more than the average rate of inflation -- with the net effect that over time wealthy people get wealthier. To support his thesis he did a lot of work in historical records and his book contains a lot of information about the English economy in Austen's era. Quoting from page 105: quote:In the eighteenth century, per capita income grew very slowly. In Great Britain, the average income was on the order of 30 pounds a year in the early 1800s, when Jane Austen wrote her novels. The same average income could have been observed in 1720 or 17790. Hence these were very stable reference points, with which Austen had grown up. She knew that to live comfortably and elegantly, secure proper transportation and clothing, eat well, and find amusement and a necessary minimum of domestic servants, one needed -- by her lights -- at least twenty to thirty times that much. The characters in her novels consider themselves free from need only if they dispose of incomes of 500 to 1,000 pounds a year. A few hundred pages later, Piketty gets to why these thresholds are important: quote:
For what it's worth, I'll throw in Piketty's analysis of Austen's take on inequality: quote:
Piketty, pg 415-416. In his notes (pg 619, note 36) Piketty gives the further information that the top 1 percent enjoyed an income about 60-75 times the average income. Also, he states that the 30x average income threshold we find in Austen and Balzac corresponds to roughly the top 0.5 percent of the "inheritance hierarchy", or about 50,000 individuals out of a British population of 10 million British adults in 1800-1810. The top 1 percent enjoyed an income about 60-75 times the average income. So that's the overall economic and social picture we're looking at here. This is, after all, a novel for the top one percent, but nobody else has any free time to read novels. It's also a *small* society; there are only fifty thousand people in it. Everyone in the top 1 percent in Austen's England knew everybody else, at least by reputation, or had friends in common. Think of the way a scandal can fly through a state college campus -- that's about how it would fly through Austen's English society (just, well, slower, because everyone is travelling by carriage). Finally, it's a society where climbing into the upper class by your own efforts is essentially impossible -- Mr. Bingley's father "in trade" would have had to have been one of the top .01% of successful merchants in the entire nation. The only real route to social mobility is gonna be a lucky inheritance or a lucky marriage. (If you want to read more on Piketty, some articles from google: http://qz.com/193098/everything-wrong-with-capitalism-as-explained-by-balzac-house-and-the-aristocats/ https://blogs.law.harvard.edu/philg/2014/05/15/was-income-inequality-much-larger-200-years-ago/ http://boingboing.net/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-t.html ) Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 04:52 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Sep 4, 2014 04:24
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Kelfeftaf posted:- I like how every man's income is publicly known. Were people just really open about how much they made during this time period? Pretty sure that income being private is mostly an American thing, and I think a lot of companies encourage the idea that discussing your salary with your coworkers is illegal (it definitely isn't). I walked into the room where my French housemate was Skyping with her parents, and pretty much the first thing she said was "My parents want to know how much money you make!" I was caught off-balance because nobody has ever asked that before. Great analysis, Hieronymous! There are so many lines that I've sort of glossed over in previous readings of the book, it's nice to learn the context behind them.
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Sep 4, 2014 13:09
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Ok, on to Chapter Three. Before we start the chapter, one thing I want to mention: It's going to be easy for us to look at this story and realize "ok, they hate each other, def. gonna marry" because we've all seen this plot and these characters a thousand times already in other media and other versions. Remember that for Austen's readers this was all extremely original. Just like you have to bear in mind while reading Tolkien that orcs aren't cliche for him because he invented them, same here with Austen and her romance tropes and characters. She's inventing the tropes. Anyway, substance. Chapter starts out with the beginnings of the social dance -- invitations back and forth, etc. That process gets interrupted though by the Assembly (which I talked about above). This is the first introduction of the male main character (s), and it sets up the rest of the novel. quote:And when the party entered the assembly room, it consisted of only five altogether; Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the oldest, and another young man. drat, Darcy is crazy wealthy. That's something like 400 times the annual average income; as a rough equivalent, imagine this dude pulling in four million a year in income. He's not just a one-percenter, he's a one-percenter of the one-percent. The "large estate" is important too, because it tell us the *source* of his money -- he's not some upstart "in trade", like Mr. Bingley, he's a landowner. Also note that he has a french-derived, i.e., by implication, Norman name, "Fitzwilliam D[']Arcy" -- he's from an ooooollllddd money family and connected to the nobility, and probably the high nobility. This guy is the 19th-century equivalent of a rock star. ("Fitz[name]" was a name sometimes given to illegitimate children of royalty). Technically, the Bennets are in his same social class, because they're landed gentry and so is he, but that's like saying Paul McCartney and the guy who was the lead singer for Fine Young Cannibals are both professional musicians. So he's "Proud" because he's stuck out in the country surrounded by country bumpkins and there's nobody else in the room except the Bingleys that he knows or considers on his social level. He's even sortof slumming it by hanging out with Bingley, but everyone likes Bingley. quote:Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and every body hoped that he would never come there again. Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her daughters. drat, Darcy is a cold-rear end motherfucker. There's your "Pride" in the title. This is such a great scene; Darcy is such an rear end in a top hat, and there's that instant sympathy for poor wallflower Elizabeth, which she just reinforces by showing she can take the situation and laugh about it.
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Sep 4, 2014 16:30
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And while I'm at it, Chapter Four.quote:WHEN Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very much she admired him. So Jane (the older, pretty one) likes everybody. She's like Bingley, she's just a nice pretty person who genuinely likes everybody. Elizabeth . . . has other opinions. What are those opinions? quote:Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced. Their behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and with a judgment, too, unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine ladies, not deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of being agreeable where they chose it; but proud and conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with people of rank; and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune and their own had been acquired by trade. Oh, so much hangs on that "by trade". It's hard to get this idea across to a modern audience but money that was from working was seen as bad. Good money was from land ownership and from being in the nobility. If you got your money from trade, you might as well be a servant. (Just as one example, the wives of barristers could be presented to the Queen at court, but the wives of mere solicitors could not, in part because barristers did not contract directly with the public for cash while solicitors did. Both were attorneys, but solicitors were in trade). The reason Bingley wants to purchase an estate is so he'll move from having money from trade to money from land, an important change of social class. The best analogy I can think of would be to compare merely being wealthy with also being famous -- money from land has a glamor that money from trade very much does not. And that also means that Elizabeth is being kindof catty here. She's thinking -- not saying, but thinking -- that Bingley's sisters are mighty stuck-up for an upstart family that got their money from mere trade. Maybe Darcy isn't the only one in this novel with some pride. The rest of the chapter gives us some insight into Bingley and Darcy's relationship, interesting because it seems to be one of the very few times in an Austen novel we see the narrator discussing a relationship between men. quote:
Look at how Bingley and Darcy's reactions parallel Jane and Elizabeth's. Bingley sees the good in everbody, especially Jane; Darcy is probably smarter and his perceptions more accurate -- there probably wasn't any fashion at a rural Assembly out in the middle of nowhere -- but also kindof a jerk. I love that "but she smiled too much" tag, it's such a perfect grouch line. (When the line references "Miss Bennet", he means Jane, the eldest, the nice one, not Lizzy.) Anyway, chapter ends with everyone in Bingley's family at least approving his chasing Jane. Wedding bells are imminent then, right? right? Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 17:12 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Sep 4, 2014 17:08
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Chapter Five mostly continues the Assembly aftermath-chat. The latter half of the chapter has some real meat though:quote:``My overhearings were more to the purpose than yours, Eliza,'' said Charlotte. ``Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he? -- Poor Eliza! -- to be only just tolerable.'' So Austen's starting to add some shades and layers to her concept of "Pride" here. Maybe it's not all bad? Maybe, from what Jane says, Darcy is just kinda shy? I entirely approve of this "keep a big pack of dogs" and "drink a bottle of wine every day" plan. Sounds awesome. One more background note: that bit about "does not keep a carriage." This, again, is a big societal deal. Keeping a carriage is another one of those economic-threshold deals. Keeping a carriage wasn't cheap -- you'd need servants, horses, feed, stabling, etc. -- but the only alternative transport short of walking would have been hiring a "hack-chaise", i.e., the 18th century equivalent of a taxi cab. Remember, this isn't a society where everyone owns their own vehicle -- it's a society where almost nobody does, except for the absolute aristocracy, the very wealthy. So if you can keep your own carriage, you're very visibly one of the aristocracy, even if you don't have a large visible estate or a big fine house. So keeping a carriage is like the entry-level conspicuous consumption and status symbol that shows you're a member of the elite. In a lot of eighteenth-century-setting literature, you'll find "set up his carriage" used as a shorthand term for "got wealthy". Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 21:11 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Sep 4, 2014 21:08
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For what it's worth, a five-part Pride and Prejudice adaptation from 1980 is currently on Netflix.
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Sep 4, 2014 23:12
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Kelfeftaf posted:For what it's worth, a five-part Pride and Prejudice adaptation from 1980 is currently on Netflix. Is it any good? I've only seen the 1995 BBC version (Amazing!) and parts of the more recent Kiera Knightley version (So bad). Feel free to watch & comment on any adaptation you want in this thread, just don't skip too far ahead of where we are in the actual book. Sorry I'm a little behind schedule with the updates! I should be caught up by the end of the weekend. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 13:14 on Sep 5, 2014 |
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Sep 5, 2014 13:11
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Chapter Six! Ok, these chapters are starting to get longer! Lots of interesting stuff happens in this one. First, Charlotte has some interesting things to say. Charlotte isn't a Bennett sister -- she's the daughter of Sir William Lucas, and in this book she's Elizabeth's friend and the voice of practical reason. quote:``It may perhaps be pleasant,'' replied Charlotte, ``to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely -- a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better shew more affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on.'' More importantly, though, the main action is starting to heat up! That tall, dark rear end in a top hat Mr. Darcy is smoldering from afar! quote:Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; -- to her he was only the man who made himself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with. A little bit later, at a dance: quote:[Sir William Lucas] paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the notion of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to her, The "I have not the least intention of dancing" is a polite form -- women at the time couldn't turn down a specific man for dancing without being shockingly rude; you had to say you didn't want to dance with anybody. quote:Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley. That umarried Bingley sister is starting to get catty. I tend to read Darcy's line about "a lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment" as a subtle dig at the reader -- we all think we know, at this point, exactly who is going to end up married to who at the end of this novel, and this is Austen's way of telling us not to jump to conclusions.
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Sep 6, 2014 19:12
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Chapter Seven starts adding some complications. First off, we find out why we aren't going to be hearing wedding bells ringing right away. quote:MR. BENNET'S property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, which, unfortunately for his daughters, was entailed, in default of heirs male, on a distant relation; and their mother's fortune, though ample for her situation in life, could but ill supply the deficiency of his. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton, and had left her four thousand pounds. This is bad. Mr. Bennet's income is decent for this generation but even if the daughters inherited it, it wouldn't be enough to maintain them in the gentry by itself; each daughter would inherit about 400 a year, which would be half that 700-1000 pound threshold we've talked about before as the minimum for the gentry. The bigger deal though is that "entailed, in default of heirs male" language. All of Mr. Bennett's revenue is coming from land rents on a big estate -- the "estate of two thousand a year." What the "entailed" bit means is that he inherited that land under a clause in (presumably, his father's and/or grandfather's) wills requiring the land to be inherited by a male heir. Women can't own it, he can't sell it off -- it's his till he dies, and then the closest male relative inherits it, whoever that is. In this case, it's a "distant relation," someone nobody in the family even knows. So all the daughters can inherit is the mother's four thousand pound lump sum, or eight hundred pounds each. They'll (presumably) be able to get a 5% rate of return on that lump sum each, for around forty pounds a year each, or just barely above the average wage. By the gentry's terms, they'll be destitute, possibly so poor they wouldn't even be able to keep a servant of their own, and certainly too poor to afford things like books or horses or new gowns. They'd have to either rely on the charity of that "distant relation" -- an uncertain prospect at best -- or, well, manual labor (which they have absolutely no training in anyway). Basically they have to marry well, or become reliant on charity. The bigger issue is that this also means the Bennet girls are all very poor marriage prospects themselves, because they can't bring anything significant to the bargain. They aren't the only people trying to marry well for big money -- everybody else is too, because everyone knows that's how you get your family ahead. So that's the background there. Meanwhile, it seems the younger sisters have been tramping it up in the next village: quote:The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt, and to a milliner's shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters', and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the head quarters. Wait, what's this about soldiers? Oh, yeah, there's a war on, in case everyone forgot. Depending on exactly when the novel's action takes place (sometime around 1810?) Napoleon has basically conquered or forcibly allied all of Europe at this point, and is at the peak of his power, with only England as a serious threat against his total dominion (the invasion of Russia won't happen for another couple years). If you're a young gentleman serious about defending the country, then, you join the Navy -- they're the ones actually getting shot at. If you aren't -- if instead you're the sort of rich young jerk who would've joined the National Guard during Viet Nam -- you maybe become an officer in a local militia. There's a good article on the militia in P&P here; basically, for now, what you need to know is that the militia were a home-defense corps that wouldn't be leaving Britain, that the militia's officers were mostly going to be younger sons of gentry, they were moving all over the country in fancy uniforms having a good time, and the possibility of promotion meant the military was a path to social promotion in a country that otherwise didn't have any real way to climb social ranks. So when Mr. Bennett is mocking his two silliest daughters for their silly infatuation with soldiers, he's got a real basis for it: the guys aren't the RAF pilots in the Battle of Britain, they're the National Guard during Vietnam. Anyway, back to the book. Jane is invited to dine at Netherfield, and goes on a horse instead of in a carriage, because the carriage-horses are needed to work the farm that day (another sign that Mr. Bennett isn't all that wealthy -- if he were, he would have separate carriage horses and farm horses). But it rains, and Jane falls ill. quote:``This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!'' said Mrs. Bennet, more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own. Till the next morning, however, she was not aware of all the felicity of her contrivance. Breakfast was scarcely over when a servant from Netherfield brought the following note for Elizabeth: This passage really shows just how silly Mrs. Bennett is. Remember this was an era where people did die of colds all the time. No vaccines, no antibiotics. Even if you didn't die, you might be disfigured, or left permanently crippled,or any number of horrible things. But instead her mother is basically in denial. quote:Elizabeth, feeling really anxious, was determined to go to her, though the carriage was not to be had; and as she was no horse-woman, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution. Aaand this really shows how silly the rest of the girls in the family are. Elizabeth is the only one who cares enough to take Jane's sickness seriously; Mary retreats behind a screen of "reason"; the mother is so in denial she calls Elizabeth silly; the younger two are so silly they run off to tramp around after officers in Meryton some more. Anyway, long story short, when Elizabeth arrives she finds that Jane has been getting worse. Mr. Darcy thinks better of Elizabeth for coming, but the Sisters Bingley seem to be sneering at her for tramping about the countryside like that. It ends up being agreed that Elizabeth and Jane will stay at Netherfield until Jane recovers. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 20:03 on Sep 6, 2014 |
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Sep 6, 2014 19:59
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Ok, my copy of the Annotated Pride and Prejudice just got here, so from now on I'll be even more smartypants on this stuff. If I start getting *too* detailed and I'm repeating or explicating stuff that's obvious to everybody, let me know and I can back off a bit. Chapter 8. quote:AT five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half past six Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. To the civil enquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Bingley's, she could not make a very favourable answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves, and then thought no more of the matter; and their indifference towards Jane, when not immediately before them, restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike. The dinner time is another class distinction. For one thing, the sisters Bingley are taking an hour and a half to dress for dinner. Dressing for dinner was normal at this time among the gentry -- dinner was a formal meal -- but taking an hour and a half may've been a bit long. They're just *that fancy*. There's also a class note in the timing. The usual hour for dinner, especially out in the country, was around five o'clock; a later dinner hour was a London thing and a rich-people thing, because eating later in the day meant you you could afford that many candles. So even the dinner hour here is another "tell" that the Bingleys are fashionable folk. It's hilarious just how drily Austen paints the Bingley sisters as total callous bitches here and how she also doesn't cut her heroine any slack for wallowing in a little bit of snarky spite, either. quote:. . . as for Mr. Hurst, by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards, who, when he found her prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her. Yet another class tell. Ragout = spicy = french cuisine = more fashionable ; plain dish = country fare = rural and unfashionable. Elizabeth is a farmgirl and it shows. I love how Austen uses such dismissive language for Mr. Hurst precisely in the same way that Hurst is so dismissive of Elizabeth. As soon as Elizabeth leaves the room the Bingley sisters start sharpening their claws in her back. quote:When dinner was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no stile, no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added, And here the claws really come out. They have an uncle in trade! They're practically all servants themselves! Remember, the Bingley's money is all from trade also, so this is just pure bitchery. I read this passage and the others like it as the unmarried Miss Bingley trying to cut out a potential rival for Mr. Darcy by playing up the economic unsuitability of the match, but I could be over-reading that, and maybe she's just a bitch. Anyway, after dinner, they all retire to sit around and play games. When Elizabeth comes back into the room, they're all playing a card game for high stakes, and she can't afford that, so she sits out and reads a book. quote:``Do you prefer reading to cards?'' said he; ``that is rather singular.'' Two things going on here. The first is that Miss Bingley is calling Elizabeth "Eliza." Social convention at the time wouldn't normally allow people to use shortened or even first names unless they knew each other very well. So she's being a little rude by shortening Elizabeth's name like that -- think of it like giving somebody a nickname when they didn't ask for it. The second is that she's calling Elizabeth a nerd. Going by the footnotes in this annotated edition, " Social opinion of the time praised women for being well read . . .[b]ut most people frowned on truly scholarly women, especially if their learning led them to slight other pursuits. One guide to female conduct expresses criticism of bookish women for often neglecting their appearance." So Miss Bingley is calling Elizabeth a huge nerd. The talk continues, and they start talking about what accomplishments a woman should have -- that is, what a genteel, upper-class woman should actually be able to do, and what qualities she should possess. quote:``It is amazing to me,'' said Bingley, ``how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.'' This passage is interesting on a few levels. For one thing, it's a critique of the contemporary idea of what a "proper" education for a woman was -- i.e., that a genteel woman should be able to knit, paint, sing, dance, etc., i.e., have artistic skills. Darcy counters this by saying "hey, I think it's more important that a woman actually have a working brain on her shoulders." When he says that, he's not just slapping down Miss Bingley for calling Eliza a nerd earlier, he's also saying that he values women for their minds more than for superficial artistic accomplishments. Furthermore, when Elizabeth says she hasn't seen any women at all who unite all those virtues -- and the Bingley sisters have all clearly displayed that they have the artistic skills -- she's very modestly, subtly, and politely insulting every other woman in the room, calling them all stupid. She's not a wilting flower to just sit there and let the Bingley women insult her; she gets her own digs in. Good for her. And Darcy sees right through what Miss Bingley is doing, knocks Miss Bingley for being manipulative, and gives Elizabeth credit for being straightforward. Good for him. Chapter ends on a more serious note; Jane is getting sicker. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 04:46 on Sep 7, 2014 |
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Sep 7, 2014 04:37
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Hieronymous Alloy posted:
I always took this passage as both of the Bingley sisters trying to point out why neither of the Bennet sisters would be a good match for someone in their social circle. While Miss Bingley may only care to make the point to Darcy, Mrs. Hurst seems to be interested in convincing her brother. quote:
I always felt like she was saying to Bingley "I know you like her, but she's just not good enough for our family." Hieronymous Alloy posted:
I've always taken that entire passage as Darcy knocking Miss Bingley a bit. Her entire "act" is that she knows Darcy and what he may desire based on their similar social or financial status. She is insulting Elizabeth based on what she thinks a man like Darcy might like or dislike and Darcy is basically telling her "you don't know what I want" each time. I also feel that he knows Elizabeth is being attacked (even if in a "teasing" manner) and decides to defend her.
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Sep 7, 2014 19:36
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On to Chapter Nine! The next day, Mrs. Bennett shows up. Oh boy. quote:ELIZABETH passed the chief of the night in her sister's room, and in the morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the enquiries which she very early received from Mr. Bingley by a housemaid, and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a note sent to Longbourn, desiring her mother to visit Jane, and form her own judgment of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Bennet, accompanied by her two youngest girls, reached Netherfield soon after the family breakfast. They don't want to move her because even carriage travel is a jolting, bumpy royal pain, and if you're already sick it could make you much worse; apparently Jane Austen's mother actually fell sick once as a result of a coach journey (again, getting this from The Annotated). Note how Bingley appears to actually care about Jane's health while Miss Bingley seems like she's just saying the right things due to form. quote:`I did not know before,'' continued Bingley immediately, ``that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.'' This seems like it's a bit of authorial voice peeking into the narrative. Austen herself lived mostly in the country. quote:`Yes, indeed,'' cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. ``I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town.'' Oh boy, look at Mrs. Bennett making an rear end of herself. When Mr. Darcy turns away from her without responding, he's doing what contemporary etiquette dictated was the way to deal with someone who was just ridiculously rude or boorish. Mrs. Bennett thinks she's shut him up, but really he's doing the polite version of ""talk to the hand." The "four and twenty families" thing is of course just wildly ridiculous -- all it does is show how utterly provincial and unfashionable Mrs. Bennet is. Think of this scene as the equivalent of your mom barging in and shouting about how popular she is because she has twenty-four Facebook friends. They talk some more and then the strumpet chimes in: quote:Lydia was a stout, well-grown girl of fifteen, with a fine complexion and good-humoured countenance; a favourite with her mother, whose affection had brought her into public at an early age. She had high animal spirits, and a sort of natural self-consequence, which the attentions of the officers, to whom her uncle's good dinners and her own easy manners recommended her, had increased into assurance. She was very equal, therefore, to address Mr. Bingley on the subject of the ball, and abruptly reminded him of his promise; adding, that it would be the most shameful thing in the world if he did not keep it. His answer to this sudden attack was delightful to their mother's ear. "Stout" here doesn't mean fat, just healthy and fit. "High animal spirits" means about what you think it does, "great natural vivacity or good humor" according to The Annotated, with especial reference to "those aspects of human nature that were shared by animals, i.e., the sensual or carnal parts." She is being very forward, by the standards of the time, to confront Mr. Bingley about his promised ball. It's also telling that Lydia seems to have completely forgotten Jane's illness, but Mr. Bingley hasn't.
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Sep 8, 2014 02:00
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Chapter Ten sees more flirting and arch witticisms around Netherfield. To start there's a funny exchange with Miss Bingley annoying the poo poo out of Darcy while he's trying to get some work done writing letters, and Darcy remaining polite the whole time: quote:Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in unison with her opinion of each. The "mend pens" bit means sharpen the quill with a pen-knife; nobody was using metal-nibbed pens yet. Time passes and there is much chit-chat. After a bit Miss Bingley starts playing some rowdy dance songs and Darcy gets all excited: quote:After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her -- Again, going by the footnotes, the bit about the "same profession, only different lines" is a huge dig; there were only fifteen or so judges in all of England and they all had titles, whereas anyone with five year's apprenticeship could be a mere attorney; this is like saying that Darcy's great-uncle the NBA player is in the same profession as Elizabeth's uncle the grade-school basketball coach. Technically true, but painfully mocking. quote:
Apparently the bit about "charmingly grouped" comes from contemporary artistic theory -- a writer named William Gilpin had a theory that groups of three were picturesque, but groups of four weren't. This Elizabeth showing off her brains and reading here; Darcy as a reader might catch the reference, but the others probably wouldn't.
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Sep 8, 2014 04:52
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Chapter Eleven is still more chitchat around Netherfield. Jane needs to hurry up and get better so we can move on. Yay, she's finally getting better! She comes and joins everyone for the evening in chitchat, and Mr. Bingley is all attention. quote:He was full of joy and attention. The first half hour was spent in piling up the fire, lest she should suffer from the change of room; and she removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that she might be farther from the door. He then sat down by her, and talked scarcely to any one else. Elizabeth, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great delight. Such a nice boy! Miss Bingley continues to try to flirt with Darcy but she's just not smart enough to handle him. Elizabeth is, though, as we start to see in this passage: quote:Miss Bingley made no answer; and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. Her figure was elegant, and she walked well; -- but Darcy, at whom it was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In the desperation of her feelings she resolved on one effort more; and turning to Elizabeth, said, Darcy saw right through what Miss Bingley was trying, and Elizabeth so saw it coming. It wasn't too outlandish for Darcy to think that Miss Bingley wanted to show herself off by walking around the room -- Miss Bingley had gone to a fancy london school, and while there would have probably been taught deportment, complete with instruction on how a young lady could look most elegant while walking, sitting down, standing up, etc. Elizabeth would probably not have had such training, coming from the country, so this is Miss Bingley trying to show herself off well and make Elizabeth look awkward by comparison. quote:``Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination,'' said Elizabeth. ``We can all plague and punish one another. Teaze him -- laugh at him. -- Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.'' Elizabeth and Darcy spar with each other a bit, and discuss Pride some more. I think it's a natural tendency to want to say "Darcy is Pride and Elizabeth is Prejudice" or something like that and make the book binary, but every character in here has their own pride and their own prejudices. You almost start to feel sorry for Miss Bingley here because she's trying for Darcy so hard and she's just not smart enough to handle it. What the hell, Darcy? Why are you so into this nerdy farmgirl? Darcy, for his part, is starting to realize that he could seriously fall for Elizabeth. And of course that Won't Do.
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Sep 8, 2014 05:15
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Chapter Twelve is short. Jane and Elizabeth leave and everyone but Mr. Bingley and Jane are glad of it. They've all been shut up together too goddam long and they're all sick of each other. quote:To Mr. Darcy it was welcome intelligence -- Elizabeth had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked -- and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her, and more teazing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity; sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the last day must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her. Elizabeth's glad to be away from everybody, because she knows the Bingley women don't like her and thinks Darcy doesn't either; Miss Bingley is glad because she's sharp enough to be jealous of Elizabeth; Darcy is glad because he doesn't want to encourage Elizabeth (or, for that matter, himself) any further,and because all the jealousy is making Miss Bingley too much of a pain to deal with.
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Sep 8, 2014 05:23
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I finally caught up (first read till chapter 12, now read your annotations) and it's crazy how many things I apparantly missed. I don't quite understand why Elizabeth still thinks Darcy dislikes her, but perhaps thats simply because of our point of view here being different from Elizabeth's. Either way, I hope something interesting happens soon, because not that much happened so far.
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Sep 8, 2014 18:26
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Walh Hara posted:I finally caught up (first read till chapter 12, now read your annotations) and it's crazy how many things I apparantly missed. I don't quite understand why Elizabeth still thinks Darcy dislikes her, but perhaps thats simply because of our point of view here being different from Elizabeth's. Heh, well, it is a slower-paced novel than a lot of other things we've read. "An elegant [novel], for a more civilized age," as Obi-Wan might put it. That said Austen is going to be adding more dramatic complications as we get further along though. I'm learning a lot too as I do this re-read, check out the annotations, look up things I hadn't bothered to research before, etc. That's part of why I think Austen is such a challenging author for modern readers. She's deceptively straightforward. With someone like Faulkner or Joyce, it's really obvious when you aren't understanding something, and it's easy to tell when you need to go look up whatever bizarre random word-contortion they're using and figure out the references. With Austen, her language seems simple, and we think we understand her society, but really she's coming from a time a lot more alien than we might realize, and her language has a lot more layers to it than are at first apparent. I think we're roughly at the 1-hour mark if you're watching the 1995 BBC miniseries, so seems like a good time to comment on that too. A few things I noticed: -- The Bingley's servants have fancier attire than the Bennet family members. -- They really played up the catty meanness of the Bingley sisters in this one; on screen they're overtly cruel to Jane in a way that they aren't in the text. Probably a decent change for the screen. -- Everyone's performances are great. The charming characters are charming, the despicable ones are magnificently bad to the point that you love to hate them. -- They're already giving us gratuitous hints of Darcy with his shirt off. What's up with that? -- Watching it really helps the lesser Bennet sisters and other minor characters stay distinct -- much easier to keep Charlotte and Mary separate in my head, for example. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 19:04 on Sep 8, 2014 |
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Sep 8, 2014 18:53
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Ok. Chapter 13. A new character is introduced! quote:
So much packed in there; note how Mr. Bennett seems to think replying within a fortnight is a rapid response; note how painfully silly Mrs. Bennett is being. But the letter itself deserves its own discussion. Listen to the way Collins just oooooozes himself across the page: quote:DEAR SIR, This is a dense letter. It might be one of the most painful humblebrags in western literature. It's horribly over-written; Collins is the sort of man who never uses a word of two syllables when he can substitute one of four syllables instead; the olive-branch metaphor is a thousand-year-old cliche. It also tells us a lot about Collins' patron, the "Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh"; that's a very specific title and form of address, and the "Right Honorable" and use of her first name ("Lady Catherine de Bourgh" instead of "Lady de Bourgh") together would allow a contemporary to deduce that she was the daughter of an Earl, i.e., of the peerage and one of the noblest families in Britain (according to The Annotated, there were only around 125 total individuals at that rank in all of England at the time). The bit about " preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish" means that Collins has been appointed to be the sitting rector of the parish. Since England had an official national church, rectors of the church had the right to receive tax revenues/tithes from their parish. About half the rectors were appointed by the church itself or by institutions, but the other half were appointed by local nobles or landowners. Such appointments could even be bought or sold, and since they amounted to paid lifetime positions, they could sell for quite a bit. They were also a lot scarcer than priests to fill them; again according to The Annotated, "only 20% of clergy obtained one within five years of ordination, while almost half never got one and had to work all their lives as underpaid assistants to those with positions." (If you were an exceptionally well-connected priest, you'd take more than one such position, and then essentially sublet out all the work to a vicar, or fill-in priest who actually, you know, gave the sermons and did all the actual church stuff). Nice work if you can get it, and Collins has gotten it, apparently by dint of extreme rear end-kissing. Hey, gotta get ahead somehow I guess. We then get each family member's response to the letter -- note that they speak in order of precedence, by age and status: quote:``At four o'clock, therefore, we may expect this peacemaking gentleman,'' said Mr. Bennet, as he folded up the letter. ``He seems to be a most conscientious and polite young man, upon my word; and I doubt not will prove a valuable acquaintance, especially if Lady Catherine should be so indulgent as to let him come to us again.'' Jane's comment is kind; Elizabeth's is sharply sarcastic; Mary is boringly rational; Catherine and Lydia are, again, shallow tramps. He comes to dinner and there's some conversation. quote:`You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may prove so; for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly.'' Mrs. Bennet is of course being an idiot again; entails were always carefully drawn up by lawyers and incredibly predictable to anyone who bothered to try to understand them. Collins is pretty clearly hinting that he's looking for a wife among the Bennet daughters, and trying to find out which of them can cook; Mrs. Bennett completely misses the point and starts trying to brag about how they're all too high-class to bother with that kind of thing, which is exactly what she shouldn't be doing if she's trying to get them married off. Then he apologizes for another quarter of an hour, because he's an obsequious, sycophantic, gormless . . .blah. Austen does a really great job of making him the kind of character you love to hate. He's not even a bad person and I already want to slap him. That's an achievement for you. Any ordinary writer can make you hate someone who kicks a puppy or does something obviously evil; making you hate a nice, polite guy who's apparently trying to do the right thing, that takes characterization, that takes artistry. But Collins is just so slimy it's almost impossible not to hate him. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 04:21 on Sep 9, 2014 |
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Sep 9, 2014 04:18
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Chapter 14. Mr. Bennet spends some time after dinner trolling Collins, just to see what crazy rear end-kissing thing he can get Collins to say. He is, of course, incredibly successful at this. quote:
God, this guy is a toady. He might as well be bragging about the time he was allowed to kiss her old-lady feet. quote:``She has one only daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property.'' Heh. Notice how Collins doesn't actually answer Mr. Bennett's question. Translation: she ain't pretty, and she's probably pretty sickly, perhaps even to the point where the family might be embarrassed to have her seen in public. "Presented at Court" was a yearly ceremony, the ancestor of the debutante ball -- young women of Society would be presented to the Queen and it was all very formal, with complex rules on who had the right to be presented and who was excluded. (As above, a barrister's wife could be presented; a solicitor's wife couldn't). Miss de Bourgh would certainly have the rank to be presented, so there must be some reason why she hasn't been, and Mr. Bennett was angling to find out. quote:``You judge very properly,'' said Mr. Bennet, ``and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are the result of previous study?'' Troll Achieved. But after a while even trolling is boring -- this guy's just too easy -- so Mr. Bennett suggests something else. quote:By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented, and a book was produced; but on beholding it (for every thing announced it to be from a circulating library), he started back, and begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. -- Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. -- Other books were produced, and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with, A scorn of novels was a thing then. Pretty much any book on proper lady's conduct at the time would have roundly denounced novel-reading. When they talked about how young ladies should be well-read, that meant books of history, philosophy, and religion, morally uplifting stuff, not that romantic trash. So it's typical for Mr. Collins, especially as a clergyman, to scorn the things, but good lord does it make him look pompous. The Annotated also points out that apparently the book he does choose -- Fordyce's sermons -- was strongly moralistic, included "a picture of ideal womanhood which stands opposed to the character of Lydia Bennett in almost every way," and had this to say about novels: "which we are assured (for we have not read them) are in their nature so shameful, in their tendency so pestiferous, and contain such rank treason against the royalty of Virtue, such horrible violation of all decorum, that she who can bear to peruse them must in her soul be a prostitute, let her reputation in life be what it will . . ." It's also interesting to see Collin's reaction after the interruption. He says he's not offended, but he acts completely offended. He's a hypocrite. Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 13:47 on Sep 9, 2014 |
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Sep 9, 2014 13:20
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I read this a few months back along with Sense & Sensibility. I remember Elizabeth getting in some pretty slick burns on people in Pride & Prejudice
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Sep 9, 2014 21:13
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Chapter 15. The chapter opens with some more insights from the narrator as to the character of Mr. Collins, and then he makes a Decision. quote:MR. COLLINS was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance. In other words, he didn't actually bother to study or learn anything at the university; he just stayed there long enough to fill the technical requirements. The exams weren't exactly strict, you just had to bother to show up. quote:. . . Having now a good house and very sufficient income, he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to chuse one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends -- of atonement -- for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part. Nice to see Mr. Collins has his mind made up that easily. Clearly, he's a romantic soul. quote:Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast, and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room in the house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely well pleased to close his large book, and go. According to The Annotated, during this period large folio editions would likely have only been reference books -- in other words, Collins just picked up a big book to look impressive, and probably wasn't actually reading it. Anyway, the girls and Mr. Collins take a walk into town, giving Mr. Bennett a much needed-break. Once they're in town, some stuff happens. quote:In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them. quote:But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say, had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty -- a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. A New Suitor Approaches -- buut quote:The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation -- a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat -- a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? -- It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know. A SECRET! But we don't get to find out any more right away; everyone walks over to visit Mrs. Philips, who (I think?) is Mrs. Bennett's sister who married the attorney in Meryton. quote:Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop boy in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put an end to by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed the windows now except a few of the officers, who in comparison with the stranger, were become ``stupid, disagreeable fellows.'' Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless. Apparently "lottery tickets" was a really simple card game; similarly, offering a "supper" instead of a "dinner" was something only a very casual, unfashionable family would have done. In another of Austen's novels a snobbish character sneers "we never eat suppers." Watch how the moment Austen starts talking about Mr. Collins all the words start spawning extra syllables. quote:As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister. Is Collins forgetting all the women he's talking to right then, and perhaps Mrs. Bennett? This guy is loving ludicrous. Slap him. Please someone slap him now. Well, yesterday by 200 years. That's how long ago he needed to be slapped.
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Sep 10, 2014 03:15
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Chapter 16 Collins and the girls all go to visit Mr. & Mrs. Phillips in Meryton. They arrive and Collins is promptly obnoxious and pompous. quote:Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds,[quote]. "Chimney Piece" == mantelpiece. Remember, annual average salary, 30 pounds. Anyway, the important thing is that that new sexy officer has arrived. quote:The gentlemen did approach; and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the ----shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as they were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room. Mr. Phillips is apparently already drunk and wanders off, and everyone else is playing card games, so Elizabeth gets a chance to talk to the handsome Mr. Wickham. Of course she wants to know about THE MYSTERY between him and Darcy, but as a polite properly raised young girl, she's not one to go prying into other people's scandals. It's none of her business so she can't ask without seeming horribly forward and rude. Fortunately, Mr. Wickham doesn't share her scruples; even though he's just met Elizabeth that day, he's perfectly happy to air his laundry to her. quote:Mr. Wickham was therefore at leisure to talk to Elizabeth, and she was very willing to hear him, though what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there. Fortunately for the plot and the gossips of Meryton, Mr. Wickham proceeds to give his own opinion. quote:``Upon my word I say no more here than I might say in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Every body is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by any one.'' I shan't be a gossip! I shan't! Oh but what happened next quote:Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter especially, with gentle but very intelligible gallantry. The "living" they're talking about here is one of the rectory posts I was talking about in Chapter 13 -- basically, legally appointed to be the rector of a parish along with the resulting rights to tax/tithe revenue. It's a shocking cut because not getting that living basically means Wickham has been shut out of the gentry -- church livings like that were much fought over, expensive as hell, and you would never, ever get them without great connections or spending a bunch of money. So Wickham didn't have any other options for a gentlemanly career short of the militia (which was basically the only place he could become an officer at his age without connections or buying a commission; to be an officer in the Navy he would have had to have started much younger). quote:Elizabeth honoured him for such feelings, and thought him handsomer than ever as he expressed them. It's interesting how Wickham keeps repeating that he's an unreliable narrator here. Elizabeth is having a hard time believing him, but Mr. Wickham is so charming, and Mr. Darcy sure did seem like an rear end in a top hat, so . . . quote:Elizabeth was again deep in thought, and after a time exclaimed, ``To treat in such a manner, the godson, the friend, the favourite of his father!'' -- She could have added, ``A young man too, like you, whose very countenance may vouch for your being amiable'' -- but she contented herself with ``And one, too, who had probably been his own companion from childhood, connected together, as I think you said, in the closest manner!'' Elizabeth is pretty good at spotting the reasons that Wickham's story doesn't make sense, but she wants to believe it. Is she right, or is she just rationalizing? Their little chat finishes up with the card game, and Collins is pompous as ever. quote:``I know very well, madam,'' said he, ``that when persons sit down to a card table, they must take their chance of these things, -- and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters.'' Five shillings is a small amount of money but not an utterly trivial one -- about a quarter pound total; I'm not sure if Collins is bragging about his wealth or trying to laugh off what are actually significant losses to him or both. The chance mention piques Wickham's interest though and we get some more exposition. quote:Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation were very intimately acquainted with the family of de Bourgh. So Darcy is already slated to marry the sickly, uncomely Miss DeBourgh that Collins was prating about a few chapters ago. The party draws to a close, and quote:Elizabeth allowed that he had given a very rational account of it, and they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards; and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to every body. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent Oh he was so dreamy and such gossip oh my can it be true oh my
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Sep 11, 2014 04:23
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Thank you very much for taking the time to explain the context to all of these lines. I am much further into the book and I missed three quarters of these references.
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Sep 12, 2014 10:52
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paradoxGentleman posted:Thank you very much for taking the time to explain the context to all of these lines. I am much further into the book and I missed three quarters of these references. Thanks! I know I'm falling behind a bit but it takes a fair bit of time for each post, and the chapters are getting longer. I should be able to knock out a bunch this weekend.
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Sep 12, 2014 12:49
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Hieronymous Alloy posted:Thanks! No worries - hell, I only just started the book today, so I appreciate having these to wade through. Thanks!
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Sep 12, 2014 21:00
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Chapter 17 Elizabeth goes back to Jane and shares this hot juicy gossip. Jane is so nice that she has a hard time believing it. quote:ELIZABETH related to Jane the next day, what had passed between Mr. Wickham and herself. Jane listened with astonishment and concern; -- she knew not how to believe that Mr. Darcy could be so unworthy of Mr. Bingley's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a young man of such amiable appearance as Wickham. -- The possibility of his having really endured such unkindness, was enough to interest all her tender feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be done, but to think well of them both, to defend the conduct of each, and throw into the account of accident or mistake, whatever could not be otherwise explained. This little dialogue shows Jane's and Elizabeth's character in interesting ways. Jane is so convinced of the best in everyone that she's almost turning a blind eye to the facts; conversely, though, Elizabeth is giving Wickham a lot more credit than he deserves --- Wickham was actually really vague on important details, and Darcy can't contradict it because he isn't there (he might also think of such denials as beneath his dignity). Why is Elizabeth doing this? Well, "there was truth in his looks." He so pretty! One thing I just realized is that I don't think "Prejudice" had its modern, wholly negative connotation when this book was written. Both Jane and Elizabeth are making hasty judgments here, for different reasons and in different ways. Anyway, what was that about a ball? quote:The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery where this conversation passed, by the arrival of some of the very persons of whom they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal invitation for the long expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities. Well, it's nice of them to come over. I love how Austen starts the sentence with "The two ladies were delighted to see their dear friend again," i.e., they have one friend present, Jane, not Elizabeth. But now there's a BALL, everyone get ready! Oh my! quote:The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a ceremonious card; Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the society of her two friends, and the attention of their brother; and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of every thing in Mr. Darcy's looks and behaviour. The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia, depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball was at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she had no disinclination for it. Mary is such a nerd. Well, at least Elizabeth can have some fun in the meanwhile teasing Mr. Collins, right? Surely he won't approve of dancing? quote:Elizabeth's spirits were so high on the occasion that, though she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and, if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance. Oh poo poo. Well, that backfired. It's interesting that Collins calls her "Miss Elizabeth" here, using her first name -- he can get away with it, as her cousin, but it's still a bit forward of him. Maybe think of it like calling her "sweetie" or something today. Elizabeth can't turn Collins down without being shockingly rude to him OR announcing she doesn't want to dance with anyone, which would mean she couldn't dance with Wickham. quote:Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being engaged by Wickham for those very dances: -- and to have Mr. Collins instead! her liveliness had been never worse timed. There was no help for it however. Mr. Wickham's happiness and her own was perforce delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his gallantry from the idea it suggested of something more. -- It now first struck her that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage was exceedingly agreeable to her. Elizabeth, however, did not chuse to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him. Oh poo poo. Well, this is going to be awkward. (In case it isn't obvious, the "Mistress of Hunsford Parsonage" would be Collin's wife).
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Sep 13, 2014 14:29
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Chapter 18 Let's Have a Ball! quote:TILL Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though this was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, Oh no. Well, that's a disappointment. quote:This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught by Elizabeth, and as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make. -- Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned away with a degree of ill humour, which she could not wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her. Darcy comes up to her to say hello and she's so angry that Wickham isn't there that she can barely speak to Darcy. Note how Elizabeth is complaining about Bingley's blind partiality to Darcy, even though she actually knows far less of Darcy that Bingley does. quote:But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was exstacy. Uuuughh. quote:She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her. Why are all these horrible men chasing me? Why can't Mr. Wickham be here? Dammit, dammit, dammit. Nevertheless, Charlotte Lucas gives her some practical advice. quote:When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence. Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding it. Again, she just scored a dance with a celebrity billionaire. It's an impressive status coup for her just to be there, and everyone is impressed. quote:They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with: I just love that dialogue exchange there; really this whole exchange while Elizabeth and Darcy are dancing. It's terse and playful and witty and that "He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said" works on at least three different levels I can think of (gruff polite nothing, a little snarky, but if you stop and think for a second, awfully romantic); this is Austen at her best, this is why she's still the model everyone else imitates, even 200 years later. The bit about "private balls" is meant as a contrast to the public Assembly at Meryton in the earlier chapter. The people here have been invited, they didn't just pay a fee. The Annotated informs me that "Do you talk by rule then" means "according to a set of rules and regulations," not "as a rule" -- in other words, "Are you so stiff and formal that you plot out your conversations in advance." quote:He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, ``When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.'' Oh, you had to go there, didn't you. But just as the conversation might be getting us some real info -- quote:At that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy he stopt with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him on his dancing and his partner. quote:Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, quote:as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied. Oh hubba hubba. More seriously, though, Darcy's right -- we're learning more about Elizabeth's character here than we are his. quote:They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and with an expression of civil disdain thus accosted her, Miss Bingley is being really snobbish by calling him "George Wickham" with no "Mr." and pointing out that he was the son of a mere servant; he's not a gentleman, he's just a servant. (She's also still calling Elizabeth "Miss Eliza.") quote:She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. -- Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Wickham, resentment against his enemies and every thing else gave way before the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness. Jane is so trusting. But maybe she's right? Maybe Elizabeth is? Such a mystery. Note how Elizabeth and Jane are actually caring here about each other's happiness, which is surprisingly rare between the members of their family. quote:She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them and told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery. Oh God, Collins again. You keep loving that same horse, Mr. Collins. By the standards of the time, Elizabeth is completely right here and Collins is completely wrong -- you generally would only speak to someone you didn't know only after being introduced by a mutual acquaintance, and people lower down the social pecking order didn't put themselves forward to their social betters without a reason. quote:``My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world of your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your understanding, but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy; for give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom -- provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself.'' And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words ``apology,'' ``Hunsford,'' and ``Lady Catherine de Bourgh.'' -- It vexed her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned to Elizabeth. Jesus lord what a pompous rear end in a top hat. Collins is inventing this special clergy exception up out of whole cloth; members of the clergy had a very precise place in the social order of precedence, just like everyone else did, and everyone who isn't Mr. Collins knows that. Also that crack about "more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself" -- we know from before the Collins didn't even bother to study when he was in school, while Elizabeth actually reads books on her own, and on top of that, has grown up as a member of the gentry, whereas Collins hasn't. But he doesn't listen, because she's a girl. Pompous, bigoted, self-important, impudent, sexist . . . gaaah. The Annotated points out that Darcy doesn't actually say he thinks his aunt has made a good decision in Mr. Collin's particular case. Anyway, the dancing is over now, and it's time for the rest of Elizabeth's family to do everything possible to embarrass her. quote:As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley, and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her, in idea, settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of true affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances, of endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper, therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly, and of nothing else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married to Mr. Bingley. -- It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match. His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane, and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters, as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions it is the etiquette, but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She concluded with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate, though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it. Oh god Mooooom stop you're sooo embarrasssing. She really, really is though. She's not just counting her chickens before they hatch, she's announcing her upcoming chicken farm to the whole neighborhood. Not that she's the only Bennett planning on making an exhibit of themselves this evening. quote:At length however Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas, who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken. Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity; for when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she had the mortification of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour to prevent such a proof of complaisance, -- but in vain; Mary would not understand them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her with most painful sensations; and she watched her progress through the several stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close; for Mary, on receiving amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, after the pause of half a minute began another. Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected. -- Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at Jane, to see how she bore it; but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. She looked at his two sisters, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and at Darcy, who continued however impenetrably grave. She looked at her father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, I actually do feel sortof sorry for Mary here. Poor nerdy girl. Not only was her playing not that great, but Mr. Bennett's public shutdown has just made it all more public and embarassing. Not to be left out, though, Collins of course has to shove his foot in (after all, he's a Bennett cousin too): quote:``If I,'' said Mr. Collins, ``were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. -- I do not mean however to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The rector of a parish has much to do. -- In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards every body, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards any body connected with the family.'' And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech, which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. -- Many stared. -- Many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man. Collins is being horrible in a lot of ways here. The bit about 'make such agreement for tithes" indicates that he thinks his first priority is to be an efficient tax collector. Not his religious duties, but his tax collection ones. That's his first priority. He's also wrong about sermons -- for an intelligent, educated rector, writing one sermon a week is not exactly hard labor, and on top of that, most rectors of the time would often read the published sermons of others (such as Fordyce, above). He barely even mentions any other religious work he might have to do as "parish functions," and then talks about how important it is that he make his own house all comfortable. What a selfish prat. The rest of the evening is pretty horrible for Elizabeth; Collins continues to follow her around. quote:She was teazed by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though he could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady in the room. He assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend himself to her, and that he should therefore make a point of remaining close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project. She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself. She can't turn Collins down without turning down everyone, so his constant attention shuts her out of dancing with anyone. The eventing draws to a close and Mrs. Bennett continues to make a scene of herself. Finally it's all over, and quote:When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.
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Sep 13, 2014 15:39
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The Netherfield Ball seems designed to show off the worst of the Bennet family; in particular Collins, who apparently feels the need to enumerate his "duties" as a clergyman with no particular provocation, on top of everything else you pointed out. The Wickham Mistery becomes even more entangled here: on one hand, treating a peon badly seems pretty in character for Darcy, plus we probably wouldn't trust Miss Bingley's word on the subject given that she's basically Darcy's lackey and a bitch on the side. On the other hand, at this point it's pretty clear that Elizabeth and Darcy are the designated couple and it would be odd for a romantic interest to have such a stain on his conscience.
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Sep 14, 2014 08:50
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Chapter 19. Could things possibly get worse? Yes. quote:THE next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at the moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances which he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together soon after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words, poo poo. RUN, Lizzie! Ruuuuun! quote:
He has to state his reasons. He isn't there to listen to her answer; he's there to make his statements. So amazingly self-centered, pompous, and utterly oblivious to what anyone else thinks, or at any rate anyone who isn't Lady Catherine de Bleeeeeuuuuurrrrggghhhhh. quote:The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him farther, and he continued: Collins is using standard phrases and formulas; he's not actually in any danger of being "run away with by [his] feelings," but that was a standard phrase in the era so he's saying it. Half his speech here is cliches and the other half is just obnoxious. quote:``My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Secondly, that I am convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly -- which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford -- between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's foot-stool, that she said, "Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. -- Chuse properly, chuse a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her." Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond any thing I can describe; and your wit and vivacity I think must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. All about him. The only role Elizabeth has in all this is apparently to allow her "wit and vivacity" to be "tempered with the silence and respect" due to Lady de Blaaaaargh, i.e, "once we're married, you will finally shut up." quote:Thus much for my general intention in favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views were directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighbourhood, where I assure you there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving to chuse a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event takes place -- which, however, as I have already said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the 4 per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married.'' Well, that's romantic. The Annotated points out that in the course of this paragraph Collins knocks down his estimate of Mr. Bennett's impending death down from "many years" to "several years." Boy wants his cash. quote:It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. I just realized that Mr. Collins may be the first mansplainer in western literature. He sure does seem to have a lot of knowledge of the silly conventions found in contemporary romantic novels, especially for someone who professes never to read them. quote:
Hieronymous Alloy fucked around with this message at 22:13 on Sep 14, 2014 |
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Sep 14, 2014 22:06
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Chapter 20quote:MR. COLLINS was not left long to the silent contemplation of his successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open the door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she entered the breakfast room, and congratulated both him and herself in warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the refusal which his cousin had stedfastly given him would naturally flow from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character. You know things are bad when your own mother is declaring that she will make your "No" into "Yes." quote:``Pardon me for interrupting you, Madam,'' cried Mr. Collins; ``but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.'' "Your pardon, ma'am, but literally raping my own wife might be bothersome." "Defects of temper." quote:``Sir, you quite misunderstand me,'' said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. ``Lizzy is only headstrong in such matters as these. In every thing else she is as good natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure.'' Fist-pump the air for dad, everyone. Mr. Bennett shows why he's awesome. There's also a nice play on dramatic conventions here -- the normal, cliche'd plot point here would be for both parents to get VERY ANGRY at Elizabeth and try to force her into the marriage. Mr. Bennett isn't just redeeming his own character, he's also turning a parody on more conventional contemporary romances. Mr. Bennett may have his flaws, but he's a decent human being who loves his daughter and wants her to be happy. The parents actually bicker a bit, and quote:Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret . This guy makes the mail-order bride industry seem a lot more comprehensible. The Annotated points out that a lot of then-contemporary Christian morals focused on "resignation or forbearance in the face of inevitable evils . . . Mr. Collins gives it a particularly absurd twist by saying that resignation is most perfect when one has not lost anything of value, i.e., when there is no real resignation or need for forbearance."
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Sep 14, 2014 22:30
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Chapter 21quote:The morrow produced no abatement of Mrs. Bennet's ill humour or ill health. Mr. Collins was also in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth had hoped that his resentment might shorten his visit, but his plan did not appear in the least affected by it. He was always to have gone on Saturday, and to Saturday he still meant to stay. Of course! Why leave? It's Mr. Collins! Fortunately, there's still at least one pleasant beau in the neighborhood: quote:After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton, to inquire if Mr. Wickham were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball. He joined them on their entering the town and attended them to their aunt's, where his regret and vexation, and the concern of every body was well talked over. -- To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged that the necessity of his absence had been self imposed. Unfortunately, though, things aren't going well for anyone in the family: quote:
It wouldn't have been proper for Mr. Bingley to send a letter to Jane because they aren't formally engaged. "Hot pressed paper" is very fancy, expensive paper that has been pressed between hot metal plates to make it glossy and shiny and fancy-looking. quote:She then read the first sentence aloud, which comprised the information of their having just resolved to follow their brother to town directly, and of their meaning to dine that day in Grosvenor street, where Mr. Hurst had a house. The next was in these words. Grosvenor Street was a fancy, high-tone London address. Note how Miss Bingley apparently hates *everything* in Hertfordshire except Jane's society; i.e., she doesn't regret leaving Elizabeth, Mrs. Bennett, the country, the grounds of Netherfield, etc. The letter continues: quote:``When my brother left us yesterday, he imagined that the business which took him to London, might be concluded in three or four days, but as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Charles gets to town he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintance are already there for the winter; I wish I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one in the croud, but of that I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.'' i.e. "I hope you find a new boyfriend or three (and forget about my brother)." quote:``It is evident by this,'' added Jane, ``that he comes back no more this winter.'' This passage is kindof neat because it shows Jane and Elizabeth doing the same sort of close reading of this letter, that we've been doing of this novel. quote:Jane shook her head. The Annotated points out that even though the "my dearest Jane" and so forth language here seems rather formal, it was actually typical for the time; Austen isn't being stilted or formal, she's writing reality as she saw it at the time. quote:``But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry elsewhere?'' He's independent because he's independently wealthy and the male decisionmaker in his household; he doesn't have any parents or anyone else to tell him what to do. He makes the decisions, not his sister (at least in theory). The question about what to do when your & your intended's wishes go against the rest of everyone's family turns out to be a big one. Fortunately, they've still invited him to dinner, so maybe he'll come back and have dinner, right? quote:She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart. It's kindof telling that it's Mrs. Bennett who thinks he's going to come all the way back to the country just to have a dinner at Longbourn. "Courses" at this point meant like an assortment of multiple dishes.
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Sep 15, 2014 00:19
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