Dear Folks,

Bruce recently posted this sentence (8/25/99): "Perhaps Elizabeth should have warned Jane NOT to marry a weak-willed, easily persuaded, wishy-washy wimp like Bingley." Julie must agree with this assessment, because our own Tasmanian devil is fond of quoting Miss Elizabeth Bennet's sarcastic thought "[Elizabeth] longed to observe [to Darcy] that Mr Bingley had been a most delightful friend, so easily guided that his worth was invaluable..."

These are false impressions indeed, unless our friends can explain away the passages I am about to quote. I begin with the fateful conversation between Bingley and Darcy at the dance assembly; Bingley starts by saying

" 'Come Darcy' said he, 'I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.' "

So, Darcy is behaving stupidly is he? Later in that same conversation, Bingley retorts

" 'I would not be so fastidious as you are', cried Bingley, 'for a kingdom!' "

So, Darcy is overly fastidious is he? Later, in Chapter XI, Bingley's sister suggests to him that his idea for a ball would not be welcomed by everyone. Bingley answers this way in Darcy's presence:

" 'If you mean Darcy', cried her brother, 'he may go to bed, if he chuses, before it begins ...' "

So, Darcy is a spoiled brat is he? Again in Darcy's presence, Bingley says this in Chapter X.

" '...I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do.'
Darcy smiled; but Elizabeth thought she could perceive that he was rather offended, ..."

So, Darcy needs a wife does he?

I eagerly await Bruce and Julie's explanation of how all this comes from the mouth of a weak-willed, wishy-washy wimp. Where is the sycophant in any of this? I think that our two friends have come under the P&P-curse, the evil spell that makes a reader take Elizabeth's first impressions on all matters and never relinquish them - not even those that Elizabeth herself will dismiss as her own foolishness. I have not been so enchanted and that is the worst curse of all, I assure you.

My view is this: Jane Austen was raised with men, a hoard of men, a veritable sea of testosterone. That's a fact. Jane Austen knew of men (and a host of very good men in the bargain). Our lady painted the Darcy-Bingley friendship as the healthiest of male relationships. It was give-and-take and there was no hierarchy (even though the Bingleys were new money). Bingley was impetuous by nature ("I have often seen him in love"); Darcy knew that and Bingley must have known as well. Bingley trusted Darcy and relied on his judgment at times, that doesn't make Bingley a wimp.

Dear Ashton,

Thank you for more man-speak.  Having read your interpretation of the exchange at the ball, I realize that as an introvert I have always applied a different subtext.  Darcy says "I don’t know these people, and they are all looking at me and whispering about me like I’m a piece of beefcake. I just want to dance with those in my own circle."  To which his friend responds, "Just join in and have some fun.  The whispers will stop and real conversation will begin with friendship soon to follow, but that can’t happen if you stand around being stupid."

I think one of the real reasons that Darcy can’t dance with Jane is that these dances usually go in sets and Bingley’s set wasn’t finished yet.  I am not an expert on any form of dancing, so I may be completely wrong in my first premise, but that has never before prevented me from forging boldly ahead with my argument anyway.  Obviously Jane is going to grant dances to other men in the room and Bingley hasn’t any power to stop her from doing so, even if he wanted to. Of course, you will tell me about that tacit agreement that would exist between a set of good friends that one would never interfere in the other’s attempts to sweep a woman off her feet.  To which I must respond that allowing your best friend to dance with (and converse with) the woman you admire is a great way of introducing yourself to her ­ if you really trust your best friend to keep you as the main topic of conversation.  And the Darcy/Bingley relationship is one that would work that way.  Now, I have one brother and six foster-brothers, and you keep telling us about how a woman having grown up around so many bastions of integrity and manhood (trust me) must implicitly know these things, so I feel you have qualified me to speak of the Darcy/Bingley relationship as if I know what I’m talking about.  Nevertheless, I stand to be corrected.  I am no Austen, and that is why I know that she has something else besides wonderful brothers to draw on for character development.

Having got up a head of steam, I continue:  At this stage in the Bingley/Miss Bennet relationship, though he is completely enchanted by her, I believe Bingley would "let" his friend dance with Jane, but at the moment of this conversation, she is still his partner.  She is available only to the extent that she could supply an introduction so that Darcy needn’t sit out the next dance of the set.  Bingley offers this service on her behalf, and Darcy refuses it.  If he were in a better mood, and the type of man that would make himself agreeable among strangers, you can bet that he would be on Jane’s dance card, and Bingley would be happy to see him there. After all, he’s going to need Darcy’s opinion about this woman.

It is clear from the other man-text that you have supplied that Darcy admires Bingley to the extent that he can accept the sort of teasing Bingley dishes out.  And, as you imply, he could not admire a wimp.  Darcy admires Bingley not because he is Elizabeth’s definition of a good friend, and not only because he has good taste in women, but also because Bingley is an extrovert. We Darcys are attracted to the Bingleys of the world because we can relax in the background and participate as a listener while the Bingleys do the "work" of being pleasant and entertaining. The only problem is that at the ball, the rumours that are quickly passed around about Darcy’s incredible wealth and marriageability make him the focus of attention.  He is extremely uncomfortable and very quickly in no mood to please the people who made him so.  Hence, the rudeness of his following remarks.

One small point about the P&P curse: you are in fact enchanted with it, I believe.  I have seen several postings in which you quote Elizabeth’s first impressions of the Collins/Charlotte relationship as if they are the opinions which last.  As you know, I side with Julie and others when I say, they don’t.

Dear Heather,

We are beginning to split hairs, but that is in the nature of being a Janite - do you agree? I am always ready and willing to participate in that sort of thing.

Oddly enough, I entirely agree with what you say about Darcy's nature and response at the dance. I have taken great pains to explain how I think that Jane Austen makes all that very clear, and why I think that she is describing a character who reacted in company much as she did herself. Here is the link to that in case you are interested. You have said, in different terms, what I have contended since the inception of this website. I thank you for that. You are leaving out one thing; Darcy tells us one other important aspect of his nature - he has a bad temper. (Elizabeth will make a lot of hay by misquoting and misinterpreting this admission of Darcy's, even though the same could have been said of her.)

What I said about "man-talk" is still valid, it is still something else that is happening at the dance - something very important. There is nothing illogical with the way you interpret the conversation, but you must explain this: What in the world was Jane Austen's intent in writing that passage? Your interpretation makes most of the conversation seem filler, and - this is very important - you make Darcy seem supercilious. That is the common interpretation (you can even find it in the Oxford Guide to English Literature). Incidentally, of all the insults that Elizabeth hurls in Darcy's presence and behind his back, she never thinks to call him "supercilious". My explanation is very different, I believe that Jane Austen's intent is to give Elizabeth good reason to form her first impression of Darcy but to make us understand that this impression is false. The real reason for Darcy's offending statement is that he is shy, as you say, and doesn't do his duty and the company reacts, as you say, and further pushes Darcy into the corner. His friend has every reason to be upset because Darcy is displaying bad manners in front of Bingley's new neighbors and, as is the nature of their relationship, he tells Darcy of this in no uncertain terms. Darcy unbends and observes that Miss Jane Bennet is attractive and then Bingley interrupts with the invitation to Darcy to dance with Jane's sister (who no one else seems to want to dance with). That is fine for Bingley, because he keeps his rich, handsome friend away from the girl that has attracted him and he will impress her by finding a partner for her unengaged sister. Darcy then loses it and says some things that he doesn't mean, things that Elizabeth will not forgive him for until several hundred pages later. Incidentally, Elizabeth's reaction is quite understandable because Darcy has undervalued her capital, has he not?

There is nothing in the text to support your contention that Bingley was in the middle of a two dance set. Your description of Bingley's attitude about Darcy possibly dancing with Jane is very foreign to me, but then, Regency England is foreign to me as well (as it is to you, by the way). Let me point out that Darcy has nothing but praise for Jane Bennet throughout the entire novel - do you agree? And yet, he never ever dances with her. How do you explain that?

I am very glad that you and Julie are clumped together. May I say "have coagulated together"? This will make it easier to pick-off both of you with a single posting. I hope you never spread out.

Oh, and I am introverted and shy myself.

Dear Ashton,

I believe our sub-texts are entirely compatible.  There is no reason why Bingley and Darcy couldn’t have been saying all the things we suggest, and more, on different levels.  The only thing that prevents our concepts from merging entirely (like split-ends in shampoo commercials) is that I do not apply the same emotion to the conversation.  Like Elizabeth at Netherfield (having to dance with Collins) Bingley is "not formed for ill-humour" and he has the added advantage that he does not have a female Collins on his arm.  Darcy can be as angry as he likes, but Bingley isn’t in the mood to match him.  I do enjoy applying anger to the passage, however. I find that Bingley becomes a little more real, and I thank you again for showing him to me.  But I agree with Julie that Austen paints him in paler tones, and on purpose, as a foil. (Ready, aim, FIRE!)

You are right, there is absolutely no evidence that they are between dances.  It seems they are actually in the middle of dancing.  "Mr. Bingley . . . came from the dance for a few minutes to press his friend to join it." There is no cutting in, therefore Darcy must have a different partner than the one Bingley is presently engaged with, if he is to join a dance already in progress.  In order to apply your subtext, we must be willing to assume that he has already decided not to join this dance, and is requesting Bingley’s partner for the next.  So far, so good.

But does Bingley keep Darcy away from Jane?  The narrator says (in recounting his sins as generally agreed by the locals) that Darcy "declined to be introduced to any other lady."  Would you agree that Jane could hardly introduce Elizabeth to a man she hadn’t met yet?  Is Bingley saying, "Let me introduce you to my partner so that she can introduce you to her sister"?  Then Darcy declines to be introduced to either of them.  I have always been under the impression that he was only declining introduction to Elizabeth.  Your subtext also insists on that interpretation, indeed he seeks an introduction to Jane.  But how do we get past the idea that Jane must be introduced to Darcy before she can introduce Elizabeth, and still keep your subtext intact?  "First agree that you will dance with her sister, and then I will introduce you to my partner"?  Not to mention, the forms of introduction make it problematic (rude?) for Jane to be introduced to Miss Bingley and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, but not Darcy, whom we are told, never ventures far from his own circle.

I know this point has little to do with the novel itself, and it is only as a key to a character that it interests me.  Austen most certainly does not mention whether or not Jane and Darcy dance at the next ball (Netherfield), leaving that to our imaginations. Ray’s Darcy sits and broods, mine only dances with those in his circle (now Elizabeth and Jane included therein), yours does not dance with Jane, and all of these Darcys avoid being the target of observation because everyone is too wrapped up in marrying off Bingley to Miss Bennet to even notice his existence.  I wonder, though, after Sir William suggests forthcoming nuptials, is Darcy content merely to observe Jane from afar? I am a swallow, you know, and therefore pursue the tiny flies.

As for being a stranger to the Regency period, I was a wet nurse named Milly Towers during the Regency in one of my prior lives.  (I guess I had better mention that I’m kidding.  But then again, how did I come up with that name so quickly?  Hmmm.)

From the Meister: MILLY! don't you recognize me?

To All,

I can split hairs with the best of them, but I feel that, to discuss the characters of the protagonists of Pride and Prejudice on the basis of their introduction to the work, serves only to deprive oneself of the exquisite, jewel-like construction of Jane Austen's novels.  To lapse into the  Australian vernacular, I don't give the proverbial rat's arse as to what constituted the undercurrents of the conversation between Bingley and Darcy at the Meryton assembly, and what's more, I believe them to be only incidental to the character development of the novel. Jane Austen's art goes far beyond ballroom chatter:  she was mistress of the art of character development, and climax dependent on the revelation of same.  This is true of all her novels, and, I believe, the point and the very heart of her writing.  Without exception, her characters experience crises that lead them to greater maturity and self-knowledge.  The way to this knowledge is a humbling experience - no great surprise when we are looking at the lives of young adults, who are faced with choices in marriage.  I would suggest that the character of Mr Darcy is not to be found at the Meryton assembly, but in his letter to Elizabeth, and his conversations with her after their engagement.  Perhaps this is the trick:  Jane Austen's novels started, maybe, in the conventional romantic form, but then underwent a sea-change, into something wondrous, and strange.

At the risk of being accused of rigidity and lack of imagination, might I suggest that time spent in fantasising and imagining motives for the characters of Jane Austen's novels might be better spent in actually reading her works.  The motivation, the character development and analysis, and the final judgement, is all there, exquisitely presented in a phrase, or a short sentence.

I enjoy reading Jane Austen's Life, and her private correspondence, enormously, but I have not the impertinence to hook one up to the other.  What is more, the author herself would have been affronted and insulted, I believe, were such a thing attempted during her life.

As you must all see from this, I believe she has a right to privacy - a thing much cherished by the English.
Julie

Dear Ashton,

Fear not.  Your eager wait for a response is over.  Bingley's weak attacks on Darcy do not acquit him of wimpiness.  On the contrary. They are the RESULT of wimpiness.

Let's look at some of Ashton's examples.  When Bingley admonishes Darcy for standing about in a "stupid manner" instead of dancing, he does so because he fears that Darcy is making a bad impression on the neighbors, as indeed he is.  But isn't it wimpy to care whether your neighbors like your friend? Bingley reminds me of  a 12 year old who is embarrassed by his parents.

Ashton also quotes Bingley saying that Darcy is an "awful object" at Pemberly, of a Sunday afternoon.  Once again, Bingley uses this mild insult because he is too wimpy to meet Darcy in rational argument.  If you remember, Darcy has accused Bingley of trying to appear humble, while actually making an indirect boast.  Elizabeth and Darcy argue about it, and Bingley, who is too wimpy to join in the argument, gets all nervous as a result of being criticized, and ends the argument with an ad hominem..

I have nothing against Bingley.  A kinder, gentler, more sociable man you couldn't find.  But, as Mr. Bennet points out to Jane upon hearing of her engagement, he is hardly the most forceful of personalities.  Indeed, Bingley's "joking relationship" insults to Darcy are further evidence of this.

Dear Sir,

I don't think that Bingley is a wishy-washy wimp, and I don't believe I ever said that, either, but I don't think that either his character or that of Jane Bennet is particularly well-developed. They seem to act more as foils for their more complex friend and sister, respectively. But, as they are, they are rather passive people, I feel.  The last we hear of Bingley is that, respecting the Wickhams, that 'they both of them frequently stayed so long that even (Bingley's) good humour was overcome, and he proceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to begone.' We actually encounter more of Mr Collins than we do of Mr Bingley, who is seen and heard more at second-hand, and thus remains a rather shadowy figure.
Julie

To Everyone,

I would not describe either Darcy or Bingley as "wimps".  They are presumably best friends and as such it is only natural that they would take each others' opinions into account when making an important decision, such as Bingley's decision whether or not to get seriously involved with Jane Bennet.  In my opinion, the reason that Bingley comes off as a wimp but Darcy does not is because Darcy never goes to his friend and asks his advice concerning Elizabeth, at least not in a conversation that is recorded by Austen.  Bingley, on the other hand, does ask Darcy for his input.  Perhaps Bingley knows that he has been foolish in matters of love in the past and is willing to put more weight on the "impartial" viewpoint of his best friend than on his own unpredictable feelings.  Darcy comes across as somewhat more level-headed than Bingley and has not had the same sort of romantic track record.  It seems to me as if Bingley is the type of person who is willing to dive headfirst into a relationship while Darcy is more hesitant, almost afraid to admit his feelings and make himself vulnerable.

From the Meister: Well said.

Dear John,

I will paraphrase Miss Crawford, aand wish you a better fate than to be at the mercy of the kind offices of a woman like Lucy Steele.  She is a less-sophisticated  version of Mrs Clay - a woman who 'knew the art of pleasing' - at least, of pleasing people with money.  I must here admit to a dislike to Sense and Sensibility (well, not dislike exactly, but it is to me the least mature of the novels), but surely you would be scratching to find even one example of generosity by Miss Lucy Steele extended to anybody but Miss Lucy Steele.  Consider her toadying behaviour when a guest of the Middletons; her tormenting nastiness towards Elinor; and lastly, her quite intentional cruelty in allowing the Dashwoods' servant to believe her the wife of Edward, and to send a message to the family on that basis.  Quite simply, she didn't give two pins for Edward, but she was not going to throw away one potential income until she had secured another.  She would be about as likely to persuade the old girl to give money to Edward and Elinor as grow wings.  I quite like the picture of her with her sister-in-law, Mrs Dashwood.  I wouldn't be surprised if they included a cauldron and a black cat at every meeting.
Julie

Dear Julie,

In writing that Lucy Steele Ferrars was capable of intervening with Mrs. Ferrars on behalf of Edmund and Elinor, I relied entirely on memory, a memory that had either failed or been misinformed by some now forgotten medium.  Since reading the text in my newest copy of the Jane Austen novels (Penguin's 7 in 1 volume) was too painful strain to take in more than a few pages, there is no doubt that resource should have been made to one of the internet offerings. My monitor is the 19" variety and therefore the print is handsomely large. In a few days my corpus should have got over the eye muscle insult of the eye surgery and I can get back to the text.

If I seem very pompous in this posting, please put the cause to my difficulty in swallowing humble pie or eating crow, whichever this disgusting thing is that I am forced to chew upon.  You will acknowledge that such a change in the diet of a literary gourmet cannot be but traumatic.

However all the above may be, there is no absolute proof that the former Mrs. Lucy Steele meant to mislead Elinor concerning which Mr. Ferrars she had married.  Thomas had no clear view of Lucy's husband was not clear, there must have been some fraternal similarity, Mr. Ferrars did not speak, and his appalling sibling rivalry could not have been apparent to Thomas. It is true that both Elinor and Edmund believed that Lucy had meant to rub Elinor's nose in Lucy's triumph.  But to Lucy Steele would it not have seemed a greater triumph over Elinor to have got the brother with the money?  Jane Austen has often enough allowed us to see even her most beloved characters arriving at erroneous conclusions. Still, I concede to Miss Julie that Miss Lucy was a harpy.  The truth is that I find myself in pretty close, if not total, agreement with Miss Julie. Such a propinquity is quite comfortable.

It occurs to me that being in such constant communion with Mrs. Ferrars cannot but be a means of knocking the rough edges off Lucy Steele, who seems to be a pretty quick study.  Her grammar, diction, and letter writing may be vastly improved by such an elevated intercourse. Perhaps she might be shamed into reading some other of the Jane Austen novels with the beneficial result of absorbing some of the best prose to be found in the English language. I will save Miss Julie the trouble of saying that Lucy Steele is what she is and expecting great change in her is an invitation to dismay.

John

(Ashton, I hope that I have eliminated any confusions caused by my editing and the impossibly long lines of your submission form.)

Dear Heather,

I confess to be amazed by the various interpretations by sopranos, altos and perhaps tenors placed on Darcy's reply to Bingley's urging him to dance.  Please let me add a baritone to this discussion.  If you are talking about Darcy, I must have my share in the conversation. If I had been a figment of Jane Austen's creative imagination, I should have been a true proficient in my admiration and friendship for this truly estimable man.

It seems to me that what is forgotten in the analysis of Darcy's words to Bingley is the terrible, recent shock of Georgiana Darcy's intended elopement.  Some may say that that what Lydia did was no different from what Georgiana contemplated. Let me disabuse such minds.  Georgiana confessed herself to her brother as soon as she saw and the possible elopement was prevented.  She might have changed her mind when it came actually to setting off to run to Gretna Green.  Lydia kept her plan secret from the colonel and his wife in the certain knowledge that they would have packed her off Longbourne at any hint of her intention. She did write her sister whom she knew to be as empty-headed as she was herself and would wrongly keep the confidence. I cannot place too much stress on the effect that Darcy's recent discovery had on his mind. When we look over Elizabeth's graceful shoulder and read Darcy's letter along with, we must hark back to his earlier actions and statements.  I see that he cannot be in the mood to dance, except for  his obligations to his own party. He has not been introduced to anyone else and owes no one else his company in a dance. For an explanation of what he meant by giving consequence to a young lady slighted by other men we must look to Mr. Knightley's inviting Harriet Smith to join the dance after she has been snubbed by Mr. Elton.  In harking back to the Assembly, we must understand Mr. Darcy to mean that when he is in a different mood he will be glad to give such consequence to a young lady. And that he does. The young lady is the same young lady. She refuses him because she is too proud to have anyone believe that she must have Sir William find partners for her and she remembers his earlier words.  She is proud and her prejudice against Darcy is growing.

Some Voices, although not my baritone, hold that Darcy was rude in giving his reasons for not dancing and excusing himself from the opportunity of meeting and dancing with Elizabeth Bennet.  The room was noisy, the musicians were making a pretty noise, there was laughter and good humour, and Darcy must have believed that he could not be heard by anyone but Bingley.  We must all at some time or other have heard ourselves boom or chime out into a suddenly silent room.  And more often we must have felt that the ambient noise in a room must cover our provate words to another, but unfortunately in such cases we speak up and can be sometimes heard across a room. Own it, you know it is true. At Rosings, when Darcy defends his Assembly inaction by saying that he did not know any of the more than one lady who was in want of a partner, Elizabeth ironically dismisses his defense with Oh, and no one can be introduced at a dance.  But Darcy cannot give her his true reason for not exerting himself in meeting partners for the dances, and Elizabeth does not give her true reason for complaining to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

She intends to roast him and nothing he says can get him off the fire of her withering scorn, although we may be sure that had she known the reason for his moodiness she would have been filled with compassion for him.

Darcy was obliged to share Georgiana's contemplated elopement with Colonel Fitzwilliam, the co-guardian of Miss Georgiana Darcy  but he was not obliged to tell anyone else. Because her honour had not been compromised, he did not feel it necessary to save her honour by duelling with Wickham, an act that he would have in any case feel degrading because of the great gap in their social standings. You will recall that Col. Branton did call Willoughby out. Elinor Dashwood deplored silently the imagined necessity of the duel. She supposed that as an army officer Col. Brandon would feel it necessary to fight a duel over his Ward's honour. Brandon and Willoughby must have used duelling pistols because neither was injured in the duel. In order to satisfy honour, it was necessary only to draw the opponent,s blood if swords were used, but if pistols were used and both men missed, then honour was still satisfied. (The Hollywood invention of cowboys [they would have called themselves cattle hands or drovers depending upon whether they supervised the herds or guided them on cattle droves] challenging each other on the street, facing each other, and drawing their cowboy handguns is rubbish.  The purpose of those handguns was to be humane killers of injured cattle and perhaps to kill snakes close up, and perhaps to frighten off predators.  When the intention was to hit anything at a distance of of more than ten or fifteen feet the men would always rely on a rifle.  Some western inns did keep a matched set of duelling pistols.  As for the actual accuracy or equality of even originally matched pistols, the duellers might as well have thrown dice and called out as small boys do "Ya got me" or "Ya missed.")

There are those who hold that Darcy was rude at the Assembly, but it was not in his to be rude. I have said in an earlier posting that he never said or did an unkind thing. He spoke the simple truth as he saw it (and he did have good vision and eyesight, except where his justified knowledge of his superiority caused him to look down on lesser breeds but that was the unintentional result of a loving upbringing which neglected to teach him that people of any place in society deserved not merely politeness, but also respect.  Elizabeth, unintentionally as well, taught him this lesson, which, his having learned, made him a "compleat" gentleman.

Heather, I should be pleased to see your understanding of something in Mansfield Park:  in this most poetic and lyrical of Jane's novels, I hear "the music of the spheres" in the choices available to Edmund Bertram.  A young man, who is meant to represent not merely one future clergyman, but all of Christianity, looks out beyond himself to see and be lured by the attractions of the world in the guise of Mary Crawford, in one vision of his future, and in the other, the pure devotion to his religion, which rejects the world except as it supplies the necessities of a life in the service of God and offers the means to serve others in this devotion, represented by Fanny Price.. Jane Austen was devout in her religion, and therefore, I think it likely that she intended this elevated level of meaning.

Having said this much, I re-affirm my earlier statement that my choice must be Mary Crawford.  I do not think that I could arise and go now, and go to Innishfree, to have nine bean rows there and live alone in the bee-loud glade--not even with Fanny Price. Or perhaps you would like to speculate on the probabilities of Susan Price's becoming the next Lady Bertram.  It seems to be the way that Jane is guiding us.
John

Dear Ashton,

You say that true Janeites split hairs. Can this be?

Let me confess that I always thought that it was Mrs. Ferrars who split heirs.
Cheers
John

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