Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Volume I, Chapter 8: A Close Reading by
David L. Ackiss, Professor of English
English Department, Missouri Southern State College
Austen crafted her novel with exquisite care, loading almost every paragraph with
significance. I have often wished I could sit with students as they read this novel,
answering their questions and offering analysis and comment. In what follows, I
experiment with a kind of running commentary on the text, in a way trying to imitate what
I think as I read. Some notes are merely explanatory while others offer critical analysis.
By the way, the commentary sometimes draws on what comes after this passage in the
novel, so it offers interpretations inaccessible during a first reading.
Before the chapter begins, Jane has fallen ill during her visit with Mr. Bingley's sisters,
having to spend what is eventually five nights. Her sister Elizabeth, anxious for Jane's
health, walks three miles in wet November weather to be with her beloved sister.
The
chapter describes the conversation during Elizabeth's first night with the Netherfield party:
Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy. I have had to add extra white
space between the paragraphs of Austen's text. In the commentary, I identify the speaker
for each line of dialogue, even when it is obvious. In some of Austen's dialogue, there are
so few speaker tags that one must pay careful attention to tell who is talking. (First published
February 1999, Revised)
Pride and Prejudice
Commentary
by David L. Ackiss
by Jane Austen
VOLUME I, CHAPTER VIII
At five o'clock the two ladies retired to dress,
and at half past six Elizabeth was summoned to
dinner. To the civil enquiries which then poured
in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of
distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr.
Bingley's, she could not make a very favourable
answer. Jane was by no means better. The sisters,
on hearing this, repeated three or four times how
much they were grieved, how shocking it was to
have a bad cold, and how excessively they
disliked being ill themselves, and then thought no
more of the matter; and their indifference towards
Jane, when not immediately before them, restored
Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original
dislike. Their brother, indeed, was the only one of
the party whom she could regard with any
complacency. His anxiety for Jane was evident,
and his attentions to herself most pleasing, and
they prevented her feeling herself so much an
intruder as she believed she was considered by the
others. She had very little notice from any but
Volume 1, Chapter 8
The two ladies are Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. Dinner is around six
or seven, supper later. People of this class often kept fairly late hours
and rose late in the morning - so late that "morning" sometimes means
"during daylight" or before dusk..
Elizabeth is sizing up Bingley's regard for Jane. He evinces real
concern, pleasing Elizabeth.
The narrator shows how self-involved these sisters are. Their concern is
superficial.
Elizabeth 'enjoys' disliking them. Elizabeth is acute enough to judge
these women accurately, but she is also vain enough to glory in her
judgement and the superiority that implies.
Elizabeth feels uncomfortable, implying that the courtesy of her hostess
is deficient. Perhaps all but Bingley behave somewhat inhospitably.
him. Miss Bingley was engrossed by Mr. Darcy,
her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr. Hurst,
by whom Elizabeth sat, he was an indolent man,
who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards,
who, when he found her prefer a plain dish to a
ragout, had nothing to say to her. When dinner
was over, she returned directly to Jane, and Miss
Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out
of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be
very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and
impertinence; she had no conversation, no stile,
no taste, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same,
and added,
"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her,
but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget
her appearance this morning. She really looked
almost wild."
Austen invents Mr. Hurst mainly to laugh at and to despise -- a shallow,
vain, lazy sensualist -- a gentleman in name only.
If Elizabeth is so uncultured as to prefer plain to fancy cooking (a
ragout is a French stew), he can have nothing in common with her.
To "abuse" someone is to speak ill of her. Elizabeth 's education and
country background do put her at a remove from London manners.
However, Miss Bingley finds Elizabeth deficient because Miss Bingley
is unkind, jealous, and critical by habit. Elizabeth is attractive, and
Caroline has already heard Darcy commend her fine eyes.
Mrs. (Louisa) Hurst. The indolence of these women stands in sharp
contrast to the Elizabeth 's vitality. Austen has Elizabeth walk these
three miles as a proof of her energy and her affection for Jane. Austen
quietly calls into question her society's implicit ideal: a lady should
never appear other than a lovely doll. Giving Elizabeth legs, Austen
gives her a body. "Wild" is the last thing a gentlewoman should be, but
there is a subtle erotic potentiality in this wildness--she came in hot and
flushed--that makes Elizabeth's presence threatening to these women,
unsettling perhaps to the men.
In Austen, "morning" seems to mean during daylight hours before the
evening meal.
"She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep
my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all!
Why must she be scampering about the country,
because her sister had a cold? Her hair so untidy,
so blowsy!"
Miss (Caroline) Bingley. She can hardly keep a straight face. Why
would a lady sacrifice her coiffure for a sister with a cold? The text
shows rather than tells how shallow these women are. Note that this is a
woman speaking to her own sister about how little a sister's illness
weighs against being ladylike and immaculately coifed. Austen again
explores the tension between lady as bodiless, inert doll and woman as
potent and active being. Darcy has better sense than to assent wholly
to this notion of woman, but we will soon see him caught between these
conflicting images of how a woman ought to conduct herself, especially
when he thinks of his own sister.
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her
petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely
certain; and the gown which had been let down to
hide it not doing its office."
Mrs. Hurst. Gentlewomen must never get dirty, of course. Being able
to afford an idle wife was (and sometimes is) a powerful mark of a
man's status. Elizabeth muddying her petticoats risks losing status,
risks seeming as though she cannot manage to sustain the pristine
uselessness of the ideal lady. The elaborate undergarments of the day
and the burden of keeping them clean served as effective fetters upon
women's freedom in the simplest, most physical sense.
"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,"
said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I
thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably
well, when she came into the room this morning.
Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."
Mr. (Charles) Bingley. Charles is a man of feeling, and Austen wants
us to like him. He is also not so acute an observer as Darcy.
"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said
Miss Bingley, "and I am inclined to think that you
would not wish to see your sister make such an
exhibition."
Miss Bingley. She is appealing to his weak side - his pride.
"Certainly not."
Mr. (Fitzwilliam) Darcy. Miss Bingley cleverly catches Darcy in a
dilemma. He wants his sister to uphold the standards of strict decorum
that Elizabeth has muddied a bit. But Elizabeth 's "exercising" her
freedom also attracts him. Elizabeth 's physicality and freedom will be
part of her appeal.
"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five
miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt,
and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by
it? It seems to me to shew an abominable sort of
conceited independence, a most country town
indifference to decorum."
Miss Bingley. Alone! The implicit standard, that a lady should never
go out unattended, reveals a world where the woman is always a sexual
object, always vulnerable prey. This covert but ubiquitous sense of
threat curtails women's freedom, like her petticoats and her
gentlewoman's role. Freedom for Elizabeth, it seems, is not freedom
but "conceited independence." Men go out alone all the time, for they
are indeed free. Except under the patriarchal protection of her own
home, a woman of Elizabeth 's class generally ought not go for a walk
alone. Note that it is not the males who uphold and enforce the
strictures of decorum that confine women. In this scene, it is the
females. Both men and women participate in the social construction of
gender roles (then and now). It is no mere male conspiracy. Under the
prevailing system of the day, these gentlewomen have a pretty good
life, especially if they are willing to trade freedom for security. Both
Bingley and Darcy are less critical of Elizabeth 's walk than these
women.
"It shews an affection for her sister that is
very pleasing," said Bingley.
Mr. Bingley. In defending Elizabeth he defends feeling over propriety.
"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy," observed Miss
Bingley in a half whisper, "that this adventure has
rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."
Miss Bingley. She cannot resist getting in a dig at Elizabeth. The lower
Elizabeth 's status, the less a threat she is to Caroline's campaign to lure
Darcy into marriage. It is worth noting that the "marriage market" of
the day tended to make not only women into commodities, but men as
well. Darcy's wealth blinds people to his real character just as much as
Elizabeth 's relative lack of wealth threatens to make her invisible to
Darcy. Miss Bingley is not throwing herself at Darcy because of his
character or his charms or strength of character but because of his
wealth and social standing. He is being treated as an object.
"Not at all," he replied; "they were brightened
by the exercise." -- A short pause followed this
speech, and Mrs. Hurst began again.
Mr. Darcy. Though some readers complain that the stiff manners of
Austen's day make hers a pale, passionless, arid world, they overlook
the direct and almost bruising way Darcy and Elizabeth sometimes
speak. Darcy's reply shows his willingness to wound Miss Bingley if
she persists in her teasing. Austen lets us know that Miss Bingley's
designs upon Darcy are hopeless, though Miss Bingley remains in the
dark. In this pause, which Austen takes pains to convey, Miss Bingley
feels her wound.
"I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet,
she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all
my heart she were well settled. But with such a
father and mother, and such low connections, I
am afraid there is no chance of it."
Mrs. Hurst. "Well settled" means well married. What she really means,
with all her heart, is that she does not want her brother to marry Jane.
The higher her brother's wife's social standing, the higher her own.
Though it is not entirely clear until later, she is quite right in a way.
Jane's having "such" a mother and father is a real threat to Jane's wellbeing. Her mother is rude, selfish, materialistic - a boor (though she
loves her daughters deeply after her own fashion). Her father, though
sensible and gentlemanly, chooses ease and irony over an active and
engaged family life. He ought to demand more sense, civility, and
maturity of his children's mother. He ought to treat her with more
respect. He ought to exert himself more as a parent, too, especially for
the younger girls who seem so idle and silly. He says as much later in
the novel.
"I think I have heard you say, that their uncle
is an attorney in Meryton."
Miss Bingley. An attorney is employed on other people's business and,
therefore, possesses a lower status than a gentleman who is concerned
only with his own. Meryton is a country backwater.
"Yes; and they have another, who lives
somewhere near Cheapside."
A commercial district in London, Cheapside is not a fashionable
neighborhood. Though the Bingleys' father was in trade, they are trying
hard to forget all that. Their rising status depends upon their putting as
much distance as possible between that past and themselves. No snob
like the nouveau riche.
"That is capital," added her sister, and they
both laughed heartily.
Miss Bingley. Aimed at Charles and Darcy, this laugh is meant to put
Jane and Elizabeth safely out of reach down the social ladder. Of
course, Austen wants us to scorn and laugh at their outrageous
snobbery.
"If they had uncles enough to fill all
Cheapside ," cried Bingley, "it would not make
them one jot less agreeable."
Mr. Bingley. While one admires his warm and simple heart, Bingley
seems naive, or so Austen wants us to think. The reality is that
economic and social status shapes our lives. Even in our egalitarian age
when, in theory, love conquers all and Cinderella can marry the prince,
the reality is that few of us ever marry someone whose parents are a lot
richer or poorer than our own. Of course, Pride and Prejudice is a
Cinderella story and militates against this stern limitation on love.
"But it must very materially lessen their
chance of marrying men of any consideration in
the world," replied Darcy.
Mr. Darcy. He is right. This is the way the world is. But not the way
Austen thinks it should be.
To this speech Bingley made no answer; but
his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged
their mirth for some time at the expense of their
dear friend's vulgar relations.
"Vulgar" means common or ordinary.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they
repaired to her room on leaving the diningparlour, and sat with her till summoned to coffee.
She was still very poorly, and Elizabeth would not
quit her at all till late in the evening, when she
had the comfort of seeing her asleep, and when it
appeared to her rather right than pleasant that she
should go down stairs herself. On entering the
drawing-room she found the whole party at loo,
and was immediately invited to join them; but
suspecting them to be playing high she declined
it, and making her sister the excuse, said she
would amuse herself for the short time she could
stay below with a book. Mr. Hurst looked at her
with astonishment.
To Jane's room.
"Do you prefer reading to cards?" said he;
"that is rather singular."
Mr. Hurst. He says "rather singular" while today one might say "really
weird."
"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley,
"despises cards. She is a great reader and has no
pleasure in anything else."
Miss Bingley. This is a surprisingly sharp, unfounded attack, though
superficially it sounds like praise of Elizabeth 's seriousness. Because
everything Caroline herself does is a pose, Caroline interprets
Elizabeth's taking up a book to be a pose meant to impress the men with
her intellect.
Elizabeth does not want their company.
A drawing-room is what Americans today might call a living room.
Loo is a card game. "Playing high” means that they are gambling at
what might seem quite low stakes to them but might seem
uncomfortably high stakes to Elizabeth.
He is always astonished by Elizabeth, poor dolt.
"I deserve neither such praise nor such
censure," cried Elizabeth ; "I am not a great
reader, and I have pleasure in many things."
Elizabeth . Notice that Elizabeth easily identifies the censure implied in
the praise. She sees through Miss Bingley here and throughout the
novel. And she seems never to feel Miss Bingley a direct threat, though
Elizabeth feels her a threat to Jane's relationship to Bingley.
"In nursing your sister I am sure you have
pleasure," said Bingley; "and I hope it will soon
be increased by seeing her quite well."
Mr. Bingley. Presumably Charles does not like his sister's manners and
seeks to make amends for her rudeness.
Elizabeth thanked him from her heart, and
then walked towards a table where a few books
were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her
others; all that his library afforded.
Elizabeth is sensitive to Charles' kind effort to make up for his sister's
sarcasm.
"And I wish my collection were larger for
your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle
fellow, and though I have not many, I have more
than I ever look into."
Mr. Bingley. The ensuing conversation about books is meant to offer
insight into Darcy's character and status, partly in contrast to Bingley's.
Elizabeth assured him that she could suit
herself perfectly with those in the room.
"I am astonished," said Miss Bingley, "that
my father should have left so small a collection of
books. -- What a delightful library you have at
Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"
Miss Bingley. Her father was a businessman, not a scholar. Pemberley
is Darcy's family estate. It serves almost as a character in the novel, so
Austen here begins to develop this "character."
"It ought to be good," he replied, "it has been
the work of many generations."
Mr. Darcy. Darcy is not among the newly rich. Old money bestows
higher status than new money. Though most of this regard for old
money or property is a mere construction of status markers, there is a
basis for it in experience: it is alarmingly easy for old money to become
no money, for inherited wealth to be squandered, for an estate to be
ruined by the vice, greed, laziness, or stupidity of its owners. That
generations of Darcys have managed Pemberley well is powerful
evidence of their good sense, moral soundness, and dutifulness.
"And then you have added so much to it
yourself, you are always buying books."
Miss Bingley. I wonder when the contemporary phrase "brown nosing"
first gained currency?
"I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family
library in such days as these,"
Mr. Darcy. Part of noblesse oblige, Darcy's responsibility to his estate
is not merely to enjoy its great wealth but to serve as its caretaker,
handing it on to the next generation improved for his having owned it.
While this may seem a strange notion, it has contemporary parallels.
For instance, nowadays many employees feel this loyalty and
responsibility to the corporation or institution for which they work. An
estate like Darcy's is an institution influencing the lives of hundreds of
people for generations. Darcy may feel about his estate somewhat as
the CEO of a large corporation feels about his or her company. With his
enormous power, it seems at first glance that the boss can do anything
he chooses . . . in theory. But his choices are ever dictated by the good
of his company. His company controls him about as much as he
controls his company. Many are the powerful executives who are
effectively slaves to their corporations. The cost of power is usually
some sort of bondage.
When Darcy mentions "such days as these," Austen signals that she
shares the conviction, common in the Romantic age, that theirs were
extraordinary times blessed with a wealth of important, groundbreaking
literature.
"Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that
can add to the beauties of that noble place.
Charles, when you build your house, I wish it may
be half as delightful as Pemberley."
"I wish it may."
Miss Bingley. Austen has her kissing up so shamelessly for our sakes,
hoping to make us laugh. Thanks, Miss Austen.
Mr. Bingley. He probably understands that he lacks the energy,
understanding, and capital to develop an estate that rivals Darcy's
Pemberley.
"But I would really advise you to make your
purchase in that neighbourhood, and take
Pemberley for a kind of model. There is not a
finer county in England than Derbyshire."
Miss Bingley. She will even flatter Darcy for his county in north central
England. Ironically enough, Miss Bingley is right in judging Pemberley
a kind of model. Though interpreting this remark as sheer flattery,
Elizabeth herself later comes to a similar judgement of Darcy's estate.
"With all my heart; I will buy Pemberley
itself if Darcy will sell it."
Mr. Bingley.
"I am talking of possibilities, Charles."
Miss Bingley.
"Upon my word, Caroline, I should think it
more possible to get Pemberley by purchase than
by imitation."
Mr. Bingley. Charles knows that there is something about Pemberley
that his money cannot buy. Now Elizabeth knows it too.
Elizabeth was so much caught by what
passed, as to leave her very little attention for her
book; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew
near the card-table, and stationed herself between
Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister to observe the
game.
Why does Elizabeth lay aside her book? Austen just might laugh
quietly at Elizabeth for showing great interest when the talk reveals that
Darcy has a large, important estate. A man (or woman) is almost
always a little better looking when discovered to be rich. Why does she
stand between Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Bingley? "Body language" existed
long before modern psychologists began to study it. I cannot quite
imagine the text's saying she "stationed herself between Mr. Bingley
and Mr. Darcy to observe the game." Though a deceptively triviallooking detail, this slight bit of choreography reveals a lot. Bingley is
no threat to Elizabeth, nor she to him. I cannot imagine the text's saying
she "stationed herself opposite Mr. Darcy so as to get a better look at
him." But that is what she does, unconsciously I think.
"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the
spring?" said Miss Bingley; "will she be as tall as
I am?"
Miss Bingley. She seeks to show off her intimacy with the Darcy
family. It is in this chapter that we first learn that Darcy has a younger
sister. She turns out to be about Lydia or Catherine's age. Note that
Caroline uses herself as the yardstick of Miss Darcy's height.
"I think she will. She is now about Miss
Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller."
Mr. Darcy. Note Darcy's yardstick! He is so conscious of Elizabeth that
he uses her for comparison. His mind is not entirely on cards, and
Elizabeth 's presence, as she stands opposite him, has a telling effect
upon him.
"How I long to see her again! I never met
with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a
countenance, such manners, and so extremely
accomplished for her age! Her performance on the
piano-forte is exquisite."
Miss Bingley. Ugh.
"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how
young ladies can have patience to be so very
accomplished as they all are."
Mr. Bingley. The "accomplishments" discussed in this passage were
pursued in part for their own sakes but also in part for making women
more attractive in the marriage market. Women's accomplishments
were, in general, cultivated to enable her to bring style, refinement, and
decoration to her future husband's home, which is nothing to sneer at.
On the other hand, Austen seems to sneer a little at them in comparison
to the accomplishments Darcy hopes for in a woman.
A "piano-forte" is what we call today a piano.
"All young ladies accomplished! My dear
Charles, what do you mean?"
Miss Bingley. Since she has been educated in a fine private seminary
for girls, Miss Bingley's accomplishments are considerable. She
therefore has a lot invested in the notion that accomplishments
distinguish a woman, giving her greater value in the marriage game,
greater attractions as a wife. To think all women accomplished is to
devalue the distinctions Caroline is banking on.
"Yes all of them, I think. They all paint
tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely
know any one who cannot do all this, and I am
sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the
first time, without being informed that she was
very accomplished."
Mr. Bingley. They all tat, paint, embroider, and crochet. By these
measures, all girls are spoken of as accomplished. One supposes that
Austen is airing one of her pet peeves here, that her society sometimes
calls a woman "accomplished" who possesses a few such skills. It
implies a paltry notion of what women could achieve.
"Your list of the common extent of
accomplishments," said Darcy, "has too much
truth. The word is applied too many a woman
who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a
purse, or covering a screen. But I am very far
from agreeing with you in your estimation of
ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more
than half a dozen, in the whole range of my
acquaintance, that are really accomplished."
Mr. Darcy. Darcy's ideas on real accomplishments reveal how
seriously he takes women and their potential. Though he may strike
the reader as a snob here, we should also notice that his sermon on real
accomplishments a few paragraphs later implies that he expects more
from his future wife than ornamentation. He wants equality,
companionship, intellect. Paradoxically, Charles and his sisters betray
their relatively middling standard of the ideal woman.
"Nor I, I am sure," said Miss Bingley.
"Then," observed Elizabeth , "you must
comprehend a great deal in your idea of an
accomplished women."
Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth. To "comprehend" is to include. Elizabeth probably hopes to
coax Darcy into voicing shallow, pretentious ideas about women so she
can despise him. He lets her down.
"Yes; I do comprehend a great deal in it."
Mr. Darcy. Though we can't know this until much later, Darcy's
upbringing has trapped him in a lonely egotism. His expecting so much
of an accomplished woman signals his fear that, though "suitable
matches" abound in the likes of Miss Bingley and Miss de Bourgh, he
will never find a woman whose mind and character will rescue him
from loneliness.
"Oh! certainly," cried his faithful assistant,
"no one can be really esteemed accomplished,
who does not greatly surpass what is usually met
with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge
of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the
modern languages, to deserve the word; and
besides all this, she must possess a certain
something in her air and manner of walking, the
tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or
the word will be but half deserved."
Miss Bingley. Picking up on Darcy's line of argument, Miss Bingley
catalogues the desirable. While certainly estimable, the characteristics
she mentions tend toward producing a refined style, not serious
principles. One assumes Bingley’s sisters are accomplished according
to the measures here voiced.
"All this she must possess," added Darcy,
"and to all this she must yet add something more
substantial, in the improvement of her mind by
extensive reading."
Mr. Darcy. Darcy's expecting so much of women is threatening for all
the women present, of course. Darcy himself is presumably an
accomplished man - well educated and adept at masculine pursuits in
the field. His preferring substance over style explains his being bored
by Caroline Bingley. His expecting a woman to have mind explains his
eventual choice of mates. What is more, his mention of reading
conveys his approval of Elizabeth 's having earlier taken up a book. A
few evenings later, in one of the funniest little episodes in Volume 1,
Caroline dutifully tries to impress him by reading but, amusingly
enough, can't keep her mind on her book (see chapter 11).
"I am no longer surprised at your knowing
only six accomplished women. I rather wonder
now at your knowing any."
Elizabeth. Think about who hears Elizabeth ’s remark.
"Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to
doubt the possibility of all this?"
Mr. Darcy. Darcy is the real feminist in the room, thinking women
capable of great seriousness.
"I never saw such a woman, I never saw such
capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance,
as you describe, united."
Elizabeth. Oops. Elizabeth implies that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley
don't measure up to these standards, which is a trifle rude. Elizabeth 's
humility, however, is disarming. She does not pretend for a second to
be such a paragon . . .
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley both cried out
against the injustice of her implied doubt, and
were both protesting that they knew many women
who answered this description, when Mr. Hurst
called them to order, with bitter complaints of
their inattention to what was going forward. As all
conversation was thereby at an end, Elizabeth
soon afterwards left the room.
. . . but these women do.
"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the
door was closed on her, "is one of those young
ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the
other sex by undervaluing their own, and with
many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my
opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art."
Miss Bingley. She cannot resist another dig at Elizabeth. Austen is also
using this speech to set up Darcy's famous reply.
"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this
remark was chiefly addressed, "there is meanness
in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend
to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity
to cunning is despicable."
Mr. Darcy. Hee hee! It is gratifying to see her get what she deserves.
Austen knows this will furnish the reader great pleasure, and it is
important we like Darcy. Miss Bingley's wiles are transparent (and
tiresome) to Darcy. Once again, some careless readers miss the keen
edge of some of Austen's dialogue. Though ever so polite on the
surface, Darcy's remark is brutal.
Miss Bingley was not so entirely satisfied
with this reply as to continue the subject.
Austen often uses understatement to great effect.
Elizabeth joined them again only to say that
her sister was worse, and that she could not leave
her. Bingley urged Mr. Jones's being sent for
immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no
country advice could be of any service,
recommended an express to town for one of the
most eminent physicians. This she would not hear
of, but she was not so unwilling to comply with
their brother's proposal; and it was settled that Mr.
Jones should be sent for early in the morning if
Miss Bennet were not decidedly better. Bingley
was quite uncomfortable; his sisters declared that
they were miserable. They solaced their
wretchedness, however, by duets after supper,
while he could find no better relief to his feelings
than by giving his housekeeper directions that
every possible attention might be paid to the sick
lady and her sister.
Mr. Hurst wants the card game to go forward. What a guy! I wish for
his sake he had been born in the age of cable TV, a remote in his hand
and dozens of channels at his command. I think he would particularly
like having several sports channels.
A “mean art” is a “small-minded or ignoble artifice,” or a low-down
trick.
Mr. Jones is an apothecary, combining the functions of today's
physician and pharmacist. He was trained through an apprenticeship.
Someone called Dr. Whatever would be a university-trained physician,
a relative rarity in those days, especially in the country.
The high diction and overstatement of "solaced their wretchedness"
signals Austen's irony. The ladies don't care a bit. Charles does though
and seems to act the lover.