Meister,
I've enjoyed reading your pages and find your perspective very interesting. As I agree with you that Persuasion (the movie) is the best adaptation ever and P&P- A&E is the best P&P, we are on the same wave-length. However, I would like to recommend that you consult a feminist source for help in understanding Darcy's motivation in proposing at Hunsford—Fay Weldon's Letters to Alice on First Reading Jane Austen is a witty homage from one fiction writer to another. She is also excellent on the status of women at that time—only 30% actually married. There was a lot of common law relationships, a lot of prostitution, a lot of single blessedness - generally to the severe economic disadvantage of the woman. If a young girl wanted to get on in the world she did not go out and get a job. (Suggesting the Bennet girls could work is akin to suggesting a single mom could go on welfare—yes it's a possibility but the loss of social status and the possibilities for advancement are depressing.) Weldon points out what an exceedingly courageous and perhaps foolhardy risk Elizabeth took in refusing Mr. Collins and especially Mr Darcy. She is unlikely to have done it had she not lived with the marriage of her parents and been so close to her father. But Darcy does not have this intimate knowledge of her family. He only sees the desperate attempts of her mother to marry off her girls. Here then is my interpretation of what he is thinking when he proposes: I like your notion that he was panicking because of her relationship with Fitzwilliam although I would not give it as much weight as you do. He is really panicking because he's leaving and will have little opportunity to see her again. (He can hardly say to Bingley - "let's go down to Netherfield for a spell". There's not much hope of seeing her in London either.) So he decides to act now. I don't think he agonizes a lot over what she thinks of him. He's obsessed with her and decides to use his money and social status to get her. He assumes that she will find such a good match irresistible "What will you think of my vanity?". He does not really know Elizabeth -(and the only way he can find out what she is really like is by proposing and being refused). So there he is, feeling very daring at disregarding all his family's objections and declaring himself, only to discover she is even more reckless and daring than he is. And then he realizes what he has lost—a woman who would not marry him for his money but because she loved the man behind the money. And so he goes back to Rosings and explains himself in that long letter. Bingley seems to have been the only other person outside his family who knew anything of the Wickham story and then only part of it. So it's an enormous step for him because now he realizes what an exceptional woman Elizabeth is and it has become critically important for her to understand him better.
She has taken a bigger risk in refusing the marriage than he has in offering it—although they both demonstrate that they do not want to marry purely for economic gain. It will be hard for him to show he is worthy of her in the world well lost for love stakes—until the situation of Wickham and Lydia. By being willing to become the brother-in-law of the man he most despises, he is able to demonstrate just how strong his love for Elizabeth is.
Thank you for the diversity of opinion that you contribute to our community; I hope you will continue to post. I also hope that you will continue to offer me "help in understanding"; This is exactly the sort of help that many others think I need most.
I believe that you are reacting to the last few paragraphs of my posting on the filmed version of Sense and Sensibility and to the second part of my posting on Darcy. Also, you may be following up on a posting from Rachel (2/13/98), whom you may find to be a kindred spirit. First of all, I refer you to my reply to that posting because I pointed to some difficulties I saw in Rachel's interpretation of Darcy, and these exact same criticisms apply to your analysis of Darcy supplied in your posting.
I find much in your posting that I will debate: That is a good thing to have happened because encouragement of debate is the reason-for-being of this bulletin board. Where do I begin? Let us start with your numbers; you believe that 70% of the women didn't marry and yet they couldn't find employment. What do you imagine that those women did with themselves? Jane Austen told us what many of them did, refer to the accounts of Miss Jane Fairfax, Mrs. Weston (Miss Taylor), Mrs. Goddard, Mrs. Clay, Mrs. Younge, and Miss Carteret for examples. Lady Catherine broadly hinted to Elizabeth that she could and would find Elizabeth just such a position. Perhaps you recall that Mrs. Elton offered similar services to Jane Fairfax; this is the sort of thing that was done - this was the ol' girl network. You probably know that there was no loss in social status when taking a position as a governess or paid companion - this was nothing remotely akin to "a single mother being forced onto welfare". As the cases of Mrs. Weston, Mrs. Clay, and Miss Jane Fairfax clearly demonstrate, there would still be an opportunity for an advantageous marriage when employed in this way. Some complain that this was a very limited range of opportunity for women and then fail to notice that exactly the same thing can be said for the men of that class. (Jane Austen explains that basic fact in the speeches that she wrote for Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility.) Elizabeth had all of the credentials for that sort of position, as did her sister Mary. Perhaps the same can be said for Jane Bennet; although, she seemed to lack the skills required of a governess. As for Lydia and Kitty - well, they understood what needed to be done.
The only Jane Austen invention that seems to remotely conform to the view held by yourself and Ms Weldon is Miss Bates. Perhaps Ms Weldon didn't read Jane Austen carefully enough or perhaps she thought that author frivolous. She would have found the same sorts of details in the novels of Fanny Burney or Maria Edgeworth. I am not a sociologist or an historian, but I can point to many refused proposals and many gainfully employed gentlewomen in the novels of women authors of Jane Austen's time.
You claim that Darcy could not say to Bingley - "let's go down to Netherfield for a spell"? Can you explain that claim? I don't understand it. In fact, I have imagined that he said something like that, just before they suddenly appeared at Longbourn after Lydia's wedding. I can't imagine why Darcy could not have arranged a social occasion in which he had the potential for meeting Elizabeth. If you cannot answer this question, then the basis of your interpretation is seriously weakened.
Incidentally, Mary Wollstonecraft was a living contemporary of Jane Austen, a feminist, and was of the same kind of marginal-gentry background as Elizabeth Bennet. As we all know, Mary Wollstonecraft always managed employment and stayed off the welfare rolls. She was an intellectual elite and, so, was able to occupy some positions not open to 99.99% of women and men of any generation; however, she also occupied the positions that Jane Austen described for Mrs. Goddard, Mrs. Weston, and Mrs. Clay. Each of the Bennet sisters was to receive 1000 pounds as inheritance; this would have brought each of them about 50 pounds per year in income. By way of comparison, Mary Wollstonecraft received 40 pounds per year when serving as governess in the house of a very rich Irish Earl. She was pleased to get it.
Finally, let us examine your numbers: If only 30% of the women married, wouldn't that mean that only roughly 30% of the men married as well? Actually, mortality rates were the reverse of those of today; the rates were higher for women than for men. This means that a 30% marriage rate for women would indicate a much lower rate for men. I might point out that 100% of Jane Austen's five marriageable brothers married and these five men married nine different women (no divorces, only deaths). Don't these observations make you the tiniest bit curious about Weldon's numbers?
Mr. Meister,
First of all, I would like to compliment you on your charming page. I really enjoyed your posts I found them very intelligent and better written than what I could lay claim to. I found your little portion on Bingley being not a wimp very interesting, and very true.
However, I have a few quibbles to make with you.
My first (and shorter, hopefully) will be about the view you claimed to have was that Darcy proposed to Lizzie at Hunsford, knowing that he would be refused. I want to direct your attention to a quote of Darcy's: "Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses." [Chapter 58] I direct you to this quote because I have taken it to heart, and from a rereading of the book can see how Darcy might have believed that Lizzie was in love with him, and "wishing, expecting his addresses"—I have come to view it as I imagine he might have—Darcy legitimately might have seen her pert comments as a rougher form of flirtation—she only playfully refused him at the Lucas', she did look at him a great deal. If he wanted to bend the truth, he might have seen it all as such, and indeed have gone into Hunsford with "no doubt of a favorable answer". If one looks at the Darcy/Lizzie relationship through this rosy-hued light, then Darcy would have "seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise".
Also, I would like to comment on your view of Edward Ferrars. Frankly, I thought the S&S-95 version was kind to him! He was emasculated by his first appearance in my opinion. I have always secretly despised him he was actually a bit like Willoughby except he was more lukewarm. Think of his actions—he idly simpers into the book, somehow managing to charm Elinor. However, he neglects to tell her about his engagement to Lucy Steele. (And don't bother talking about how he was interrupted he could have just snuck back and told her, or he could have done it sooner if he had not put it off—he also had the chance when he visited Barton Cottage for a week.) He possibly could have broken off his engagement to Miss Steele, but he did not, because it was the polite and socially acceptable thing to do—I don't mean when his mother says "Fortune or chit," but even earlier than that when he runs into Lucy at Mrs. Jennings' home in London heck, he could have done it when he was visiting at Plymouth!
And what about standing up to his mother? or just making something of himself? He just declines all professions, and complains about how he has nothing to do. No matter what he says, he could find a profession, or he could just defy his mother straight away! Really, one can do what one wants to do, whether one likes it or not, really.
I hope I haven't misinterpreted you on any point I hope my comments have not been too sharp, either. I have enjoyed this, and I hope you will as well.
Highest regards,
Rachel
I find your posting to be a perfect example of the sort of thing that I was hoping to see. The tone was not offensive in any way and speaks to the central theme of the bulletin board, the illumination of Jane Austen's vision. What did Jane Austen mean, what did she intend? No progress will be made at this web site if the community sends only "compliments" to the Board Meister. Things might be different if I was a scholar or some kind of Jane-Austen expert, but I am not such a person. We are in this together.
Obviously, your posting is a comment on the second part of my posting on Darcy.
I am quite aware of the lines that you quote and agree that they cast doubt upon my view of Darcy's state when on his way to the Parish. I have an explanation—not one that I am perfectly comfortable with, but an explanation nevertheless. First, however, I would like to argue something else. I will argue that anyone who adopts a literal interpretation of Darcy's statement has even far more severe difficulties to explain away than do I. The basic problem is this—if we are to assume that Darcy was skipping along to what he anticipated would be a successful suit, then we must assume that Jane Austen envisioned Darcy as being rather obtuse. I see nothing very charming in Elizabeth's refusal at the Lucas Lodge. It was pointed and proudly made before Sir Lucas and before the public. Even conceding that point, her intent during the dance at the Netherfield Ball was to insult Darcy and to make him understand that she believed his treatment of Wickham to be dishonorable. Clearly, she lost her temper and that can only be mistaken as flirtation by the dullest kind of Darcy. His own loss of temper at that time points to the fact that he caught her full meaning. At the same time, Elizabeth imagined herself in love with Wickham, and that fact could not have been lost on anyone. Remember that her aunt took Elizabeth aside and tried to reason with her about her growing attachment to a man who did not have the means to support a gentlewoman in a marriage. This was a small country society that Jane Austen was describing, and it is safe to assume that the neighborhood noticed and talked of this blossoming romance. Remember that Miss Bingley was quite aware of these matters and mentioned them to Elizabeth at the Ball. Even if Darcy was so obtuse as not to notice these things, we can be certain that Miss Bingley would have kept him fully informed. It is difficult to understand how an intelligent Darcy would imagine that a woman so recently in love with—and the special confidant of—his worst enemy, would be "wishing" for his, Darcy's, proposal.
Later, at Hunsford, Elizabeth's treatment of Darcy was unguarded contempt, a clear reflection of the fact that her case against him was then complete and definitive. She did flirt in Kent, but her object, clearly, was Colonel Fitzwilliam. Again, Darcy would have been the dullest kind of little elf to not have noticed that. I don't believe that Darcy was thinking of anything on his way to that first proposal, he was in a state of panic and he was reacting rather than thinking. (Try to imagine these things on an emotional level.) This was a panic created by the growing attachment of Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth combined with her growing hostility to Darcy. Darcy would have been sensible that of all her attachments, his cousin was, finally, a man worthy of her consideration. I see no compelling reason to think that Jane Austen intended Darcy to be a fool and I see no very good reason to modify my view of things. Incidentally, corroborating opinions seem to be provided by Andrew Davies and Colin Firth who, it seems to me, play this proposal-scene exactly as I envision it in the 1995 miniseries. (Do you think that this may be a "guy thing"?)
I am not sure what you mean by a "rougher form of flirtation"? Do you really imagine that as part of Jane Austen's vision? Another thing, if we are to take Darcy literally in the quote you provide, then Jane Austen's central theme would be broken: Elizabeth would not have been operating under a false "first impression", she would have been right about Darcy all along. I will need a great deal more convincing on that score.
O.K., so what about those lines you point to? Well, Darcy was responding to a direct question from Elizabeth—what compelled him to propose to her? I don't think he would have wanted to respond "I knew I didn't have a dream, but I thought I would just give it the old college try?" No, that would have been a foolish answer. And, I guess that no man wants to admit that he ever operated out of panic either. Also, maybe it would have been too painful and too indelicate to bring up the Fitzwilliam matter. I don't know, I have been puzzling over the lines for some time. It is certain that Elizabeth would have asked this question and maybe Darcy simply answered the best he could without going into more depth and opening up some painful memories. I am making a weak response here—do you think?
I am not at all sure that you contradict any opinion of mine about Edward Ferrars. Can you quote a specific statement of mine? I predict that you will, someday, retreat on your comparison of Edward Ferrars to Willoughby. Your points about Edward Ferrars are well taken; however, you surely don't think of him as a cynical seducer? The moral dilemma that Ferrars faced was that Lucy Steele had very limited prospects and by accepting his proposal, she would have closed herself off from all other offers. This, in turn, obligated him to her, and he was committed to that obligation to the point where he was disowned! Can you find it in your heart to give him some credit for that? I suspect that the prospects of men in the gentry class were very limited. It would have been impossible for Ferrars to become a doctor, a pharmacist, an engineer, a teacher, etc. All of those things were considered to be the purview of the servant classes. He really only had the choices that he described; the military, or the church, or the house of commons and that was about it! However, I don't want to put too fine a point on things, I think that you and I are not as far apart on this matter as you seem to think.
Dear Meister,
I am sorry that I have taken so long to respond to your post—I had to take a moment to think and check things out before writing back, and after starting and stopping responses, I will jump up on my soapbox again.
First, I would like to make clear that in my mind Darcy is certainly NOT obtuse in any manner. Darcy could perceive things just as well as Elizabeth, I see Darcy as no less fallible than myself—but couldn't Darcy be somewhat self-deluding himself? Couldn't he be looking back over his acquaintance with Elizabeth and seeing what he wanted to see? Retrospection can deliver pain or pleasure, and everyone also perceives things through their feelings—no one can experience a situation coldly.
To answer your charges directly, Elizabeth's refusal at Lucas Lodge was not as pointed as you portray it, and something to note—she initiates a (more or less) friendly sort of conversation with him. As to your point at the Netherfield Ball, perhaps in his cozy retrospection, when the emotions have somewhat abated, perhaps Darcy might have thought that she was trying to make him jealous when she indirectly brought up Wickham. He could have attributed different motives to Lizzie—this is where I think of my "rougher form of flirtation" (which is what I meant—that sometimes during their verbal duels, Lizzie brought up a point that hit Darcy but he might not have believed her to not be intending to hurt himself—that she hurt unknowingly, so to speak.) Besides, was Lizzie ever really in love with him? She might have thought him charming, but she never was in love—she admitted it to her aunt in the same conversation to which you point. She did wish to make Darcy uncomfortable, and by mentioning Wickham, she succeeded.
I have to argue your statement that Lizzie treated Darcy with "unguarded contempt" at Hunsford. First of all, could Darcy respect or like a woman that treated him with "unguarded contempt"? Also, would Lizzie even act with such a lack of manners? That would be somewhat hypocritical of Lizzie because she disliked Darcy in the beginning indirectly because of his lack of manners. I prefer to say that Lizzie treated Darcy with "veiled contempt"—that veil is still slight covering her emotions, and that veil can blind the willing.
As to the Colonel situation, I don't see quite how he would be such a fierce rival. Sure, she flirts with him, but what is the Colonel going to do about it? The Colonel would not attempt to gain a woman's affections that he was not going to marry—and he certainly wasn't about to marry Lizzie. I have always seen that there was an unspoken understanding between the two—they both were bored out of their skulls and chatted and flirted together for amusement. Both knew nothing would come of it, so no one would be hurt. Perhaps Darcy thought Lizzie was in love with the Colonel, but I do not think him "obtuse" enough to miss it.
However, I concur that his proposal was more of a reaction to the events. I don't think Darcy thought out his proposal, otherwise he would have come off a LOT better!! However, I think Darcy's mention of her relations was a poorly thought-out attempt to prove his love—that he was fully aware of the idiocy of her relations, that he was trying to say that he knew she was in a bad situation, but he loved her so much he was willing to marry her in spite of it!! Badly thought out, but he had somewhat of the right idea.
However, I still am convinced that Darcy was always thinking that Lizzie was in love with him, or that she was at least encouraging him. The old Weldon version of P&P illuminates this better than the Davies version—she went out of her way to speak to him at the Lucas' when she refused him it could have been an attempt to entice him. Their verbal battles were a strained flirtation that I don't think Darcy took completely seriously. (Remember, he says that she "finds great enjoyment in occasionally expressing opinions which in fact are not your own.") In Kent, when she runs into him during her walks, one time she "took care to inform him at first, that it was a favorite haunt of hers." She might have meant to warn him away, but I think he saw it as an invitation to come and talk with her. She does look at him a great deal and pays attention to his comings and goings—some people think she was in love with him all the while, so why can't Darcy have the liberty of deluding himself with the same happy thought? Jane Austen knows that people on occasion delude themselves—that some people make up their own fantasy world and alter reality to try to meld the two—Jane Austen knew this to be true and she fit this in with Darcy. (And if you don't believe me, look at Mansfield Park—Edmund Bertram constantly distorts reality to keep believing that Mary Crawford is just a sweet innocent.) Darcy is as fallible as anyone, and when he deludes himself he just sets himself up for the pain in the end. This is how I theorize that Darcy could "express security," and believe that she was "wishing, expecting his addresses".
As to Edward Ferrars, I believe I misinterpreted your criticism of Emma Thompson's Sense and Sensibility to be a defense of the man. I also must apologize—I have taken the very bad habit of arguing more radically than I really feel—I dislike Edward Ferrars, but not as strongly as I argued. However, whenever I radically argue about that eejit called Edmund Bertram, I mean every word I speak!! But that's another topic . . .
I have enjoyed our debate and find it very interesting to see this interpretation of Darcy--one which seems quite different than mine.
2/25/98 Meister - I finally get the point
I really should try to remember something that my wife often tries to teach me: Great art lends itself to multiple, valid interpretations—just like real-life events. The degree to which this is true may be a measure of greatness. Thank you for your reminder to me to remember that simple principle.
I think that there is too little discussion of Mansfield Park in this world, I indicated that in my posting on that novel. If you have something provocative to say about Edmund Bertram, then let us see it. Maybe you will get the discussion going. I must warn you though, I also find Mary Crawford interesting and attractive. Sometimes, when my thinking is in free-fall, I place Jane-Austen characters into two distinct sets. In the first, I place Jane Bennet, Fanny Price, and Elinor Dashwood. I see these as different facets of Jane Austen's sister Cassandra; steadfastness and purity itself. In the second set, I place Elizabeth Bennet, Mary Crawford, Emma Woodhouse, and Marianne Dashwood and I think of them as Jane Austen's self portraits; all are intelligent, spontaneous, and spirited. The members of this set are also willful know-it-alls and Jane Austen made them suffer for it—a kind of literary, self-inflicted penance. I am, of course, in love with every member of the second set. Maybe that is a guy-thing! You know—this just struck me—maybe Mary Wollstonecraft belongs in that second set?
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