Chapter Twenty-nine, Part One

Originally published 10/29/2006.

In Chapter Twenty-nine, we see the "superlatively stupid" dinner at Rosings. Lizzy and Lady Catherine meet - and spar. Lizzy clobbers Lady Catherine.


Mr. Collins's triumph, in consequence of this invitation,...

That is, the invitation for Lizzy and company to dine at Rosings.

...was complete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering visitors, and of letting them see her civility towards himself and his wife, was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady Catherine's condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough.

Further "rubbing it in" to Lizzy. This is, quite simply, pride. And Austen shall not let us forget the absurdity of it. In this case, we see a bit of "conspiracy" going on: Mr. Collins wants to show off; he is therefore very grateful for an expedited opportunity of doing so. So sin seeks company, like we read in Proverbs 1.

"I confess," said he, "that I should not have been at all surprised by her ladyship's asking us on Sunday to drink tea and spend the evening at Rosings. I rather expected, from my knowledge of her affability, that it would happen. But who could have foreseen such an attention as this? Who could have imagined that we should receive an invitation to dine there (an invitation, moreover, including the whole party) so immediately after your arrival!"

"I am the less surprised at what has happened," replied Sir William, "from that knowledge of what the manners of the great really are, which my situation in life has allowed me to acquire. About the court, such instances of elegant breeding are not uncommon."

I think, perhaps, that Sir William thinks his son-in-law is saying a bit much, so instead of allowing Mr. Collins to dig himself in deeper by himself, Sir William tries to "one-up" him. I think perhaps in this case it definitely would have been wiser not to answer the fool according to his folly.

Scarcely anything was talked of the whole day or next morning but their visit to Rosings...

We can guess whose influence was instrumental in bringing about this one-sided conversation. It's Churchill's definition of a fanatic again: he can't change his mind and he won't change the subject.

...Mr. Collins was carefully instructing them in what they were to expect, that the sight of such rooms, so many servants, and so splendid a dinner, might not wholly overpower them.

When the ladies were separating for the toilette, he said to Elizabeth,

"Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which becomes herself and her daughter. I would advise you merely to put on whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest-- there is no occasion for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved."

In thus attempting to put Lizzy "in her place," Mr. Collins continues his prideful absurdity. There was positively no need to say what he said. Mr. Collins managed to say absolutely nothing in a grand total of 75 words. Surely Lizzy could understand this was a formal dinner, and she should wear nice clothes? And does Mr. Collins think that the idea of going out and getting better clothes than she already possesses would even occur to her? Yet another prime example of lack of perception.

While they were dressing, he came two or three times to their different doors, to recommend their being quick, as Lady Catherine very much objected to be kept waiting for her dinner. Such formidable accounts of her ladyship, and her manner of living, quite frightened Maria Lucas who had been little used to company, and she looked forward to her introduction at Rosings with as much apprehension as her father had done to his presentation at St. James's.

So Mr. Collins doesn't manage to put Lizzy in her place, but he does manage to get his sister-in-law in her place.

As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile across the park. Every park has its beauty and its prospects; and Elizabeth saw much to be pleased with, though she could not be in such raptures as Mr. Collins expected the scene to inspire, and was but slightly affected by his enumeration of the windows in front of the house, and his relation of what the glazing altogether had originally cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh.

When they ascended the steps to the hall, Maria's alarm was every moment increasing, and even Sir William did not look perfectly calm. Elizabeth's courage did not fail her. She had heard nothing of Lady Catherine that spoke her awful from any extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue, and the mere stateliness of money or rank she thought she could witness without trepidation.

This is quite what we have come to expect from Lizzy. Her heart is in the right place, not paying too much attention to money. We know she doesn't ignore money completely (witness her reaction to Mrs. Gardiner's advice about Wickham). But she does not pay overly much attention to it. Whereas, Maria and Sir William do not have their heart in the right place, and are willing to be actually frightened by the sight of so much wealth. All glory is fleeting.

From the entrance-hall, of which Mr. Collins pointed out, with a rapturous air, the fine proportion and the finished ornaments, they followed the servants through an ante-chamber, to the room where Lady Catherine, her daughter, and Mrs. Jenkinson were sitting. Her ladyship, with great condescension, arose to receive them; and as Mrs. Collins had settled it with her husband that the office of introduction should be hers, it was performed in a proper manner, without any of those apologies and thanks which he would have thought necessary.

I can't help but laugh at this. Charlotte is definitely giving Lizzy the benefit of the doubt. Surely the proper nature of the introduction is part of Lady Catherine's initial friendliness. Admittedly, Lady Catherine imbues all her actions with a misplaced pride, but she is genial to Lizzy. I think that may be due to Charlotte, partly.

In spite of having been at St. James's, Sir William was so completely awed by the grandeur surrounding him, that he had but just courage enough to make a very low bow, and take his seat without saying a word; and his daughter, frightened almost out of her senses, sat on the edge of her chair, not knowing which way to look. Elizabeth found herself quite equal to the scene, and could observe the three ladies before her composedly. Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly-marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone, as marked her self-importance, and brought Mr. Wickham immediately to Elizabeth's mind; and from the observation of the day altogether, she believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he represented.

What was that representation again? "... her manners were dictatorial and insolent. She has the reputation of being remarkably clever; but I rather believe she derives part of her abilities from her rank and fortune, part from her auhtoritative manner, and the rest from the pride of her nephew, who chuses that every one connected with him should have an understanding of the first class."

When, after examining the mother, in whose countenance and deportment she soon found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy,...

Do you think Lizzy would have found such a resemblance even if there had been none? Sometimes wishful thinking can cloud judgment.

...she turned her eyes on the daughter, she could almost have joined in Maria's astonishment at her being so thin and so small. There was neither in figure nor face any likeness between the ladies...

Perhaps Austen here answers the question I just posed. Lizzy cannot see any resemblance here, this implying her judgment is sound in the other case.

...Miss de Bourgh was pale and sickly; her features, though not plain, were insignificant; and she spoke very little, except in a low voice, to Mrs. Jenkinson, in whose appearance there was nothing remarkable, and who was entirely engaged in listening to what she said, and placing a screen in the proper direction before her eyes.

This sentence is so ennervating to me! To think that there is such a person who must be, indeed, shielded even from light, reminds me of the failty of human nature.

After sitting a few minutes, they were all sent...

I wonder who did the sending.

...to one of the windows to admire the view, Mr. Collins attending them to point out its beauties, and Lady Catherine kindly informing them that it was much better worth looking at in the summer.

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants and all the articles of plate which Mr. Collins had promised; and, as he had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her ladyship's desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater. He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity; and every dish was commended, first by him and then by Sir William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear...

Someone in my position does tire a little, perhaps, at the abundance of material available for critique of Mr. Collins. You begin to wonder if the man can get anything right!

...But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh-- the former of whom was engaged in listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all dinner-time. Mrs. Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing she was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question,...

Showing a wisdom beyond that of her father, actually. The proverb says that even a fool, if he keeps is mouth shut, is accounted wise. Better to keep your mouth closed and be thought a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt.

...and the gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.

I'll break here at this absurdity.

Chapter Twenty-nine, Part Two

Originally published 10/29/2006.

Continued from last post.

When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, there was little to be done but to hear Lady Catherine talk, which she did without any intermission till coffee came in, delivering her opinion on every subject in so decisive a manner, as proved that she was not used to have her judgement controverted. She inquired into Charlotte's domestic concerns familiarly and minutely, gave her a great deal of advice as to the management of them all; told her how everything ought to be regulated in so small a family as hers, and instructed her as to the care of her cows and her poultry. Elizabeth found that nothing was beneath this great lady's attention, which could furnish her with an occasion of dictating to others...

Perhaps the reader recalls the terms "dictatorial and insolent." Truly great men and women do not do this. This is really a sign of Lady Catherine's insecurity. Naturally, it is easy to dictate matters to underlings when they are small matters. For while no matter should be beneath a person's attention as regards his own business, when it comes to the matters of others, very few matters should he even begin to "talk of giving a hint" of advice.

...In the intervals of her discourse with Mrs. Collins, she addressed a variety of questions to Maria and Elizabeth, but especially to the latter, of whose connections she knew the least, and who she observed to Mrs. Collins was a very genteel, pretty kind of girl. She asked her, at different times, how many sisters she had, whether they were older or younger than herself, whether any of them were likely to be married, whether they were handsome, where they had been educated, what carriage her father kept, and what had been her mother's maiden name? Elizabeth felt all the impertinence of her questions...

At first I was wondering why Lizzy thought them impertinent, because surely the first two or three are perfectly acceptable. However, starting with "likely to be married," Lady Catherine is on impertinent ground. I imagine Lady Catherine would not have wanted such questions posed to her. A simple application of the Golden Rule would have sufficed to avoid this extreme.

...but answered them very composedly. Lady Catherine then observed,

"Your father's estate is entailed on Mr. Collins, I think. For your sake," turning to Charlotte, "I am glad of it; but otherwise I see no occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh's family. Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?"

"A little."

Lizzy here. Question: do you suppose Austen means for most of the subsequent questions to be assigned the label of "impertinent?" From the general tenor, I would conclude so.

"Oh! then-- some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our instrument is a capital one, probably superior to---- You shall try it some day. Do your sisters play and sing?"

Lady Catherine.

"One of them does."

Lizzy here. Well, we know that Mary plays and sings - in a manner of speaking.

"Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours...

Lady Catherine. And here we can see more clearly the impertinence of some of the latter questions such as the one about Mr. Bennet's carriage: they are designed to ascertain what Mr. Bennet's income is. In modern ideas, it is definitely considered impertinent to ask someone how much they earn. If the income is an average one, I suppose it isn't volunteering too much, in the right context, to tell others how much you earn, but generally it is not polite to ask it.

...Do you draw?"

"No, not at all."

Lizzy.

"What, none of you?"

Lady Catherine.

"Not one."

Lizzy.

"That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity. Your mother should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters."

Lady Catherine.

"My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London."

Lizzy here. It is hardly surprising that Mr. Bennet's book-loving nature would abhore the noise of the big city.

"Has your governess left you?"

Lady Catherine here. This question is understandable in Lady Catherine's context, because, though she is impertinent, she is attempting to find out why Lizzy does not draw.

"We never had any governess."

Lizzy.

"No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education."

Lady Catherine.

Elizabeth could hardly help smiling as she assured her that had not been the case.

"Then, who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess, you must have been neglected."

Lady Catherine with a highly unwarranted assumption. While it is true that in today's technological society, it is in some ways easier to spend more time on education, surely even back in Austen's day, parents could have raised their children directly without a governess.

"Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to read,...

By Mr. Bennet. I do not think Mrs. Bennet was terribly encouraging in that regard.

...and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be idle, certainly might."

Lizzy. So the modern concept of "unschooling" was alive and kicking even back in Austen's day. I do not imagine Austen is attempting to glorify such a mode of education; indeed, two out of five is not a terribly good track record.

"Aye, no doubt; but that is what a governess will prevent, and if I had known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage one. I always say that nothing is to be done in education without steady and regular instruction, and nobody but a governess can give it...

First thought true, second false. Steady and regular instruction is important, but parents most certainly can give such.

...It is wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying in that way...

What humility!! And of course, Lady Catherine did this all on her own with no help whatsoever. Even God had nothing to do with it!! Right.

...I am always glad to get a young person well placed out. Four nieces of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means; and it was but the other day that I recommended another young person, who was merely accidentally mentioned to me, and the family are quite delighted with her. Mrs. Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalf's calling yesterday to thank me? She finds Miss Pope a treasure. 'Lady Catherine,' said she, 'you have given me a treasure.' Are any of your younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?"

As Hugo wrote in Les Miserables, "Coarse natures have this in common with artless natures, that they have no transitions." Lady Catherine changes the subject rather abruptly, it seems to me. Although, it may be that Lady Catherine is thinking maybe she could place Lizzy's sisters as a governess. On the other hand, that might not be likely for daughters of a gentleman.

"Yes, ma'am, all."

Lizzy.

"All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The younger ones out before the elder ones are married! Your younger sisters must be very young?"

Lady Catherine.

"Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps she is full young to be much in company. But really, ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and amusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to marry early. The last-born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth at the first. And to be kept back on such a motive! I think it would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind."

Lizzy here, certainly no more impertinent than Lady Catherine.

"Upon my word," said her ladyship, "you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person...

And Lady Catherine doesn't give her opinion very decidedly? The irony is rather remarkable.

...Pray, what is your age?"

An extremely impertinent question nowadays. Lizzy's answer seems to indicate the same held true in Austen's day, although I imagine the reason is different, perhaps even opposite. Today it is impolite unless the lady is young. It is impolite to ask an older lady her age, because it reminds her of the "horrors of old age." Back then, it was probably more impertinent to ask a young woman her age, because wisdom was associated with age.

"With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth, smiling, "your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it."

I've always wondered at this: why should having three younger sisters be a reason why Lizzy shouldn't directly answer Lady Catherine? Reader input would be appreciated here, please! Maybe I already answered it above with the "not wanting to be thought young" idea. The modern equivalent might be, "With three children all grown up, your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it."

Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer; and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.

This last statement was puzzling to me until I realized it was written from Lizzy's perspective: Lady Catherine is the dignified impertinence.

"You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure, therefore you need not conceal your age."

Lady Catherine. Read input again, please: why should not being more than twenty be a reason not to conceal her age?

"I am not one-and-twenty."

Lizzy here with about as indirect an answer as she can muster.

When the gentlemen had joined them, and tea was over, the card-tables were placed. Lady Catherine, Sir William, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat down to quadrille; and as Miss de Bourgh chose to play at cassino, the two girls had the honour of assisting Mrs. Jenkinson to make up her party. Their table was superlatively stupid...

A rare direct moment for Austen.

...Scarcely a syllable was uttered that did not relate to the game, except when Mrs. Jenkinson expressed her fears of Miss de Bourgh's being too hot or too cold, or having too much or too little light...

Clearly, Austen does not think that playing cards merely for the sake of playing cards is a terribly intelligent thing to do. Austen thinks cards are really about conversation.

...A great deal more passed at the other table. Lady Catherine was generally speaking--...

Of course.

...stating the mistakes of the three others, or relating some anecdote of herself. Mr. Collins was employed in agreeing to everything her ladyship said, thanking her for every fish he won, and apologising if he thought he won too many. Sir William did not say much. He was storing his memory with anecdotes and noble names.

When Lady Catherine and her daughter had played as long as they chose, the tables were broken up, the carriage was offered to Mrs. Collins, gratefully accepted and immediately ordered. The party then gathered round the fire to hear Lady Catherine determine what weather they were to have on the morrow...

What manner of woman is this? Even the winds and waves obey her voice!

...From these instructions they were summoned by the arrival of the coach; and with many speeches of thankfulness on Mr. Collins's side and as many bows on Sir William's they departed. As soon as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her cousin to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for Charlotte's sake, she made more favourable than it really was...

It really was awful, with not a sensible sentence uttered by anyone except Charlotte. I put to you the question, though: should Lizzy have made the impression more favorable than it was? I think white lies are still lies. In this situation, I would have found what I could praise (there is always something, because every human being is made in God's image), and left out the majority of things that I couldn't.

...But her commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfy Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her ladyship's praise into his own hands.

I like the wording of that last sentence: very comical indeed.