Sunday, November 04, 2007

Chapter Fifteen

Originally published 4/23/2006.

Chapter 15 is another very short chapter. It also has no direct dialogue in it at all. However, there is a lot going on: Chapter 15 does introduce the critical character of Mr. Wickham, the usual Austenian scoundrel. Naturally, we don't know that until the letter, but since most people reading this blog have probably already read the book, I feel I give nothing away. The chief thing to notice about Wickham is how he appears to be all that is light and good. It reminds me of that old saying that Tolkien turned on its head: "All that glitters is not gold." Tolkien's version: "All that is gold does not glitter." Both show up in this tale: Wickham is the first, Darcy the second.

Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society; the greatest part of his life having been spent under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father; and though he belonged to one of the universities, he had merely kept the necessary terms, without forming at it any useful acquaintance...

Interesting, isn't it, how Austen makes a point of saying how important it is to make useful acquaintance at college? I think this is more or less still true today. Sometimes who you know is more important than what you know. Mr. Collins is here shown to be interested pretty much only in himself, a fact further corroborated quite handily later.

...The subjection in which his father had brought him up had given him originally great humility of manner; but it was now a good deal counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak head, living in retirement, and the consequential feelings of early and unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance had recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the living of Hunsford was vacant; and the respect which he felt for her high rank, and his veneration for her as his patroness, mingling with a very good opinion of himself, of his authority as a clergyman, and his right as a rector, made him altogether a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

These adjectives correspond quite interestingly with the ones Mrs. Hurst applied to Lizzy's manners: "a mixture of pride and impertinence." Pride being the ultra-competitive thing that it is, it can tolerate the appearance of pride in no one else, with no exception. To my mind, we're not really going to see Mr. Collins get his come-uppance. He is a static character, forever relegated to being a negative example.

Having now a good house and a very sufficient income, he intended to marry;...

Reminiscent of the first sentence of this book, but since his coming is not generally known, we cannot suppose that every woman of the neighborhood looked on him as a potential son-in-law. As I mentioned earlier, however, I think Mrs. Bennet does already.

...and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters, if he found them as handsome and amiable as they were represented by common report. This was his plan of amends-- of atonement-- for inheriting their father's estate; and he thought it an excellent one, full of eligibility and suitableness, and excessively generous and disinterested on his own part.

To me, "excessively generous and disinterested" is merely a token of his conceit. It might actually be so, but for him to think so misses the point.

His plan did not vary on seeing them. Miss Bennet's lovely face confirmed his views, and established all his strictest notions of what was due to seniority;...

Austen points out his hypocrisy quite handily here.

...and for the first evening she was his settled choice. The next morning, however, made an alteration; for in a quarter of an hour's tete-a-tete with Mrs. Bennet before breakfast, a conversation beginning with his parsonage-house, and leading naturally to the avowal of his hopes, that a mistress might be found for it at Longbourn, produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against the very Jane he had fixed on. "As to her younger daughters, she could not take upon her to say-- she could not positively answer-- but she did not know of any prepossession; her eldest daughter, she must just mention-- she felt it incumbent on her to hint, was likely to be very soon engaged."

There does not appear to be anything terribly wrong about this statement, except for the mortification of having Mr. Collins as a son-in-law. Mrs. Bennet, being rather imperceptive and single-minded, does not consider this. Mr. Bennet, on quite the other hand, has some choice words when comparing Mr. Collins to the then-known scoundrel Wickham in Chapter 53.

Mr. Collins had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth-- and it was soon done-- done while Mrs. Bennet was stirring the fire. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course.

Mrs. Bennet treasured up the hint, and trusted that she might soon have two daughters married; and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day before was now high in her good graces.

"Coarse natures have this in common with artless natures, that they have no transitions." - again from Les Miserables.

Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her;...

On the subject of Mary, this is a rather interesting statement. Other things Austen wrote lead us to believe that Mary is interested in Mr. Collins. They are certainly very similar in many ways. However, perhaps Mary is aware that Mr. Collins has his fangs set on Lizzy.

...and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast; and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth,...

and no one else, meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go.

In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton...

This is one of the funniest lines in the book, to my mind. It paints such a clear picture!

...The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.

Perhaps the two older girls (remember Mary is missing) can still be polite to Mr. Collins, even if his company is odious.

Here is Mr. Wickham.

But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretense of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot...

Somewhat obvious on the part of Kitty and Lydia; what could Mr. Denny do but hail them? The word "fortunately" here suggests sarcasm in my mind. It is fortunate for their enterprise, but not for the cause of good manners.

...Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming...

We assume this makes a difference for the two youngers girls, and not the two elder, although knowing any young man to have a useful occupation cannot but increase the desirability of him. There is still sarcasm here, in any case. "Completely" is a word put there too soon. I do not mean to say that Austen was wrong in putting it there, but only that such a word leads the reader on in the wrong direction, which is, of course, what Austen was trying to do.

...His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation-- a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming;...

Aha. Here we have the mitigating circumstance. Up to this point, a reader might come to the mistaken notion that merely to have correct and polite conversation makes you a good person. This is not the whole truth. Here Austen makes quite clear, after we finally get to know the "character" of Wickham, that agreeable conversation is certainly not enough. There must be substance behind the speech.

...and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth,...

As is quite usual with guys very interested in a girl. See the Star Trek quote in my comments on Chapter 12.

...when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat-- a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

Just about every movie version dramatizes this. In the book, we simply do not have Darcy and Bingley running off immediately, usually with Darcy in the lead. That is what is done in every movie, just about, probably because it is difficult to make the audience realize what has gone on. We have the benefit of seeing into Lizzy's head, so we don't need the highly rude gesture of abruptly leaving to get the point.

In another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.

Without seeming to have noticed. I think he probably did. Remember, Mr. Bingley is quite smart in his own way. I think he would have noticed something like this, since in some ways he is quite as perceptive as Lizzy. Remember, though, that he would not know the reason for it, as he does not know Wickham and his previous history.

Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Phillip's house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Phillips's throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation.

I can't help but think that Denny and Wickham are correct here. They have not been introduced to Mrs. Philips, and I think it might be improper to visit someone's house to whom you have not been introduced. Any input from my Readers Dear would be quite well appreciated here, as always.

Mrs. Phillips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the street, who had told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him...

Here we have a clue as to the character of Mrs. Philips. She is a confirmed gossip. Incidentally, we have a textual variant here to discuss: the spelling of "Philips". In Everyman's Library, we have Mrs Philips, with only one "l" and no period after "Mrs". In most of the Project Gutenberg edition, we have "Phillips". Your input would be appreciated.

In addition to being a gossip, Mrs. Philips appears to be rather vulgar. She certainly does not stand upon ceremony. In Austen, though, we have a definite idea that standing upon ceremony isn't always bad. In modern America, it is usually seen as bad. But there is sometimes a reason for the ceremony: politeness to others, making other people comfortable. In Mrs. Philips' case, what we have is a tendency to draw people into her circle whether they want it or not. It's rather like that admirable expression, "You can always tell who are those people that ____ loves by their hunted expression." It seems to me that this quote, or something like it, is from Lewis' Screwtape Letters. I should be greatly obliged if anyone finds it and tells me.

...She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her,...

This nod to correct manners on the part of Mr. Collins seems rather a confirmation of my previous theory about introductions and entering houses.

...which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Phillips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding;...

Thus canceling the intended effect of good breeding. This leads me to suspect that Mrs. Philips does not engage in the best of manners herself very much, or she would not be "awed" to find them in someone else.

...but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other; of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the ----shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid, disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Phillipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Phillips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits...

Lizzy and Jane would probably enjoy such an evening. Austen makes room here for simple gatherings. Lizzy, of course, is attracted to Mr. Wickham, though we don't get that particular idea until later.

...Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.

Fits perfectly into our perceptions of both characters. For Mr. Collins to apologize is quite needless, and "unwearying civility" is apt.

As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.

Good ol' Jane, seeing the good in everyone. Austen, perhaps, pokes a little fun at her by intimating that Jane would rather accept a logical contradiction than speak ill of anyone unwittingly.

Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Phillips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.

I'm sure Mr. Collins had a rapt audience.