Thursday, October 25, 2007

Chapter Twenty-two



Originally published 9/10/2006.

Chapter Twenty-two sees the surprising or perhaps not-so-surprising conclusion to Mr. Collins' romantic misadventures. We see how differently Lizzy and Charlotte feel about love.

The Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases and again during the chief of the day was Miss Lucas so kind as to listen to Mr. Collins...

Here is Austen making a not-so-indirect jab at the tiresome nature of Mr. Collins. If it is a kindness to listen to someone, as opposed to a joy and pleasure, then either the speaker is a poor speaker, or the listener is a bad listener. It is clearly the first option that Austen has in mind here.

...Elizabeth took an opportunity of thanking her. "It keeps him in good humour," said she, "and I am more obliged to you than I can express." Charlotte assured her friend of her satisfaction in being useful, and that it amply repaid her for the little sacrifice of her time. This was very amiable, but Charlotte's kindness extended farther than Elizabeth had any conception of; its object was nothing else than to secure her from any return of Mr. Collins's addresses, by engaging them towards herself...

Question, then: is Charlotte being entirely honest about accepting this praise, since she does what she does from a more self-oriented motive? I suppose the phrase "amply repaid" is technically accurate, but perhaps misleading.

...Such was Miss Lucas's scheme; and appearances were so favourable, that when they parted at night, she would have felt almost secure of success if he had not been to leave Hertfordshire so very soon. But here she did injustice to the fire and independence of his character, for it led him to escape out of Longbourn House the next morning with admirable slyness, and hasten to Lucas Lodge to throw himself at her feet. He was anxious to avoid the notice of his cousins, from a conviction that if they saw him depart, they could not fail to conjecture his design, and he was not willing to have the attempt known till its success might be known likewise; for though feeling almost secure, and with reason, for Charlotte had been tolerably encouraging, he was comparatively diffident since the adventure of Wednesday. His reception, however, was of the most flattering kind. Miss Lucas perceived him from an upper window as he walked towards the house, and instantly set out to meet him accidentally in the lane. But little had she dared to hope that so much love and eloquence awaited her there.

We know that Charlotte later thinks "his attachment to her must be imaginary." Therefore, it must be that Austen is being rather "admirably sly" herself in writing of "so much love and eloquence."

In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow,...

I wonder if a clergyman such as Mr. Collins is aware of passages such as Proverbs 10:19, and the various ones in James regarding the tongue? Apparently not, or else he is and is sinfully ignoring them. To speak beyond the patience of your listener is being uncharitable.

...everything was settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as they entered the house he earnestly entreated her to name the day that was to make him the happiest of men; and though such a solicitation must be waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must guard his courtship from any charm that could make a woman wish for its continuance;...

Surely this is amusing; it is said in a very typical Austenian manner with lots of negatives and probably severe understatement.

...and Miss Lucas, who accepted him solely from the pure and disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that establishment were gained.

Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their consent; and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present circumstances made it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom they could give little fortune; and his prospects of future wealth were exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with more interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer Mr. Bennet was likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be in possession of the Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife should make their appearance at St. James's...


Churchill's definition of a fanatic: he can't change his mind, and he won't change the subject. The latter, at least, applies to Sir William Lucas and his fixation about St. James's.

...The whole family, in short, were properly overjoyed on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes of coming out a year or two sooner than they might otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be imaginary...

See above. Also, this would surely not be ideal grounds for a happy marriage. The BBC version has Jane talking about this marriage thus: "Well, they may be happy. The heart finds happiness in the strangest places." Quite a delightful line, to be sure.

...But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it was the only provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at the age of twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all the good luck of it...

I suppose this does exhibit some wisdom. The modern world, at least in America, certainly does not think this way. In America, romance is practically considered the only grounds for a marriage. That view, along with Charlotte's, is probably defective, though with some truth to it.

...The least agreeable circumstance in the business was the surprise it must occasion to Elizabeth Bennet, whose friendship she valued beyond that of any other person. Elizabeth would wonder, and probably would blame her; and though her resolution was not to be shaken, her feelings must be hurt by such a disapprobation. She resolved to give her the information herself, and therefore charged Mr. Collins, when he returned to Longbourn to dinner, to drop no hint of what had passed before any of the family. A promise of secrecy was of course very dutifully given, but it could not be kept without difficulty; for the curiosity excited by his long absence burst forth in such very direct questions on his return as required some ingenuity to evade, and he was at the same time exercising great self-denial, for he was longing to publish his prosperous love.

So he's not a complete dingbat, only mostly. He at least has the skill to evade these questions.

As he was to begin his journey too early on the morrow to see any of the family, the ceremony of leave-taking was performed when the ladies moved for the night; and Mrs. Bennet, with great politeness and cordiality, said how happy they should be to see him at Longbourn again, whenever his engagements might allow him to visit them.

"My dear madam," he replied, "this invitation is particularly gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as possible."

They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for so speedy a return, immediately said:

"But is there not danger of Lady Catherine's disapprobation here, my good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of offending your patroness."


Mr. Bennet surely plays his trump card here right away. There could be no stronger appeal than to Lady Catherine, I'm sure.

"My dear sir," replied Mr. Collins, "I am particularly obliged to you for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so material a step without her ladyship's concurrence."

"You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than her displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, and be satisfied that
we shall take no offence."

Mr. Bennet here.

"Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited, by such affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of your regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my cousin Elizabeth."

With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally surprised that he meditated a quick return...


We know, of course, why he wants to come back: he now considers Longbourn as a base from which to pay his attentions to Charlotte.

...Mrs. Bennet wished to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as hers, he might become a very agreeable companion...

This might actually be true. I would hesitate to say which of the two blighters was worse, Mary or Mr. Collins. In any case, it does no good to compare ourselves with others except possible those whom we regard as our superiors as role models. It only inflates our pride to compare ourselves with those whom we think beneath us.

...But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.

The possibility of Mr. Collins's fancying himself in love with her friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from possibility as she could encourage him herself,...


So we see Lizzy making a mistake many people make: assuming other people think the same way we do. In fact, that will be the assumption Charlotte challenges first.

...and her astonishment was consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not help crying out:

"Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte-- impossible!"

The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained her composure, and calmly replied:

"Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?"


This actually doesn't apply, because we know that Charlotte doesn't have all that great an opinion of Mr. Collins. Charlotte's point is merely that not everyone is alike in every way.

But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort for it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her all imaginable happiness.

"I see what you are feeling," replied Charlotte. "You must be surprised, very much surprised-- so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you.


This seems to me somewhat off-the-mark. Lizzy is surprised because she values Charlotte's opinions and thinks her sensible. Therefore, according to Lizzy, Charlotte would never do anything like marry someone she couldn't very well respect.

...But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never was...

Is this a bad thing or not? Romance, if understood in one way, points to Christ's relationship with His church. That is why love stories will never ever fail to appeal.

...I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins's character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state."

Elizabeth quietly answered "Undoubtedly"; and after an awkward pause,...


Undoubtedly brought on by the "undoubtedly," in which Charlotte can probably detect quite a bit of uncertainty. Lizzy doesn't mean it, and Charlotte doesn't have anything to say to it.

...they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins's making two offers of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted...

So we see, again, why Lizzy was surprised.

...She had always felt that Charlotte's opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possible that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen.

Lizzy definitely is the romantic. Lizzy does not account, perhaps, for the idea that some people's idea of happiness is different from their own. Charlotte's is, perhaps, defective, but it owuld be charity on Lizzy's part to understand that and accomodate the weaker sister here.

7 Comments:

At September 12, 2006 4:26 PM, Blogger Susan said...




Question, then: is Charlotte being entirely honest about accepting this praise, since she does what she does from a more self-oriented motive?


I ask a question in return :). What should she have said, in response to Lizzy's thanks? "Oh, no thanks needed, Lizzy. I'm just trying to snare him for myself." ;) One reason I'm uncomfortable receiving praise is because (a) I of course don't deserve it, and (b) graciously accepting it or refusing it is not something I do not do well spur-of-the-moment.

I've never identified with Charlotte's actions here, though I realize that in that culture a 27-year-old single female was in "desperate" circumstances, so I must allow her something. I certainly do not think love is the only reason for marriage, but I think respect is necessary, and I see little of that in this circumstance.

 
At September 16, 2006 9:59 PM, Blogger Adrian C. Keister said...

There is a grace of accepting praise, even if insincerely given.

I had a friend once who had difficulty accepting praise. I told her that she could think of the praise as a gift from someone. Would you refuse a gift from someone you cared about? That would be boorish! As Miyagi (sp?) said in Karate Kid, "Please, uh, hurt old man's feelings." The situation there was that Daniel's mother was on the point of refusing the bonzai tree he was giving her. It hurts people's feelings sometimes to shunt aside praise.

One reason I can think of why that is so is because you are almost insulting their intelligence. Will you tell them that their perception is so far from reality that they haven't a clue who you are or what you are about?

Of course we don't deserve praise. That's what the gospel is all about: we, who don't deserve it, are going to be told, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." Good? Faithful? Ha! But through the blood of Christ, it is so.

Therefore, I claim there are about two appropriate responses to praise. 1. Smile and say, "Thank you." 2. Very gently redirect the praise to God. "Praise God who gave me that talent (or whatever it is that's being praised). Anything else will likely be somewhat boorish.

Ah, but you are so romantic, like Lizzy. You will have everyone who marries be in the best marriage they could possibly be in! Respect is necessary, I'm sure you mean, for a good marriage. All that's really necessary for marriage per se is the vows plus sex. Right? And Charlotte and Mr. Collins evidently obtain both of those (remember the olive branch in the letter Mr. Collins writes to Mr. Bennet in Chapter 57). But we both know that isn't nearly enough for a good marriage.

So, yes, Charlotte will not have the happiest marriage she could have. In those days, according to Austen, there was no other way for a young woman to have stability. She couldn't very well earn her way like now. Perhaps in some small way, that is a good thing. Women will not be driven to enter into a bad marriage for the sake of having a marriage. The danger, of course, is going too far the other way, and despising marriage or setting their sights too high.

In Christ.

 
At September 18, 2006 3:09 PM, Blogger une_fille_d'Ève said...

Very interesting insight into accepting praise. I definitely learned some things there.

 
At September 18, 2006 4:57 PM, Blogger Susan said...

I'm with Hannah that here you have some interesting insights, Adrian. This particularly:

It hurts people's feelings sometimes to shunt aside praise.

One reason I can think of why that is so is because you are almost insulting their intelligence. Will you tell them that their perception is so far from reality that they haven't a clue who you are or what you are about?


Hmm. I'll have to think on that. I usually respond to praise with the "smile and thanks" method. It is a gracious and simple way to accept praise, and it is far more difficult for me to bungle words and make my humility sound false. *sigh* Did you see my most recent fall-on-my-face response to praise?

Too true that I did mean respect is necessary for a good marriage :).

 
At September 20, 2006 9:05 AM, Blogger Adrian C. Keister said...

Replies.

Thanks to Hannah and Susan for the compliment. ;-)]

Reply to Susan.

Yes, I did see your response to the praise. But I'm not going to comment on it. Why? Because I think it's a bit difficult (for me) to sort out the irony and (mild) sarcasm from what might actually be going on. I think you probably were having a bit of fun. Still, I don't know, so I won't comment. It's a little too internal to both of you.

Anyway, if you and Zan had been completely serious about what you were writing, then I would agree with you.

In Christ.

 
At September 20, 2006 5:25 PM, Blogger Susan said...

TIOC?

 
At September 23, 2006 4:03 PM, Blogger Adrian C. Keister said...

Reply to Susan.

Ok to TIOC as far as I'm concerned, if you like.

In Christ.

 

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