Pride and Prejudice: 156-happy ending

The title of a novel typically draws attention to important themes: however, in Pride and Prejudice these themes are not simply alluded to, but more actively discussed by the characters. After realizing how badly she had misjudged Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth says "I, who have prided myself on my discernment . . . Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind" (159). Unlike Darcy's excessive pride, Elizabeth's pride does not regard her own status or accomplishment, merely her ability to discern things about others. It is a pride of perception, as opposed to a more hubristic pride of character. However, just like Darcy's pride, it is an impediment to happiness. Being excessively confident in one's abilities, even if it's not a characteristic thought of as particularly desirable (in Elizabeth's case, perceptiveness) is problematic. Because Elizabeth is a relatively reasonable character, the fact that her initial hatred of Darcy makes her so "wretchedly blind" illustrates that just as love clouds judgment, so does excessive hatred, and that no one, regardless how "good," can avoid the sway these emotions have over judgment.
Another type of pride becomes visible when Elizabeth hears about what Darcy has done for Lydia, and
"she was proud of him. Proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, he had been able to get the better of himself" (248). Here, pride is good because it is pride for someone else rather than for oneself. Elizabeth is proud that Darcy "had been able to get the better of himself," overcoming his character flaws. Because the focus is on an improvement rather than an intrinsic characteristic, representing a positive evolution of character, it is no longer destructive. In fact, Elizabeth's emotion here arguably marks the beginning of the realization of her love for Mr. Darcy.

Beyond the obvious title themes, another motif I observed was the interplay between appearance and character. After realizing the truth about Wickham and Darcy, Elizabeth observes that "one has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it" (172). In this society, outward appearances (both physical appearance and manners/social conduct) are what matter most, but it is obvious that these do not often match up to inward character. For the first half of the book, however, outward appearances triumph over true good (Wickham over Darcy), illustrating the difficulty of succeeding without appropriate social manners in this kind of world. However, after Mr. Darcy's character has been somewhat vindicated, Mrs. Gardiner: "He has not an ill-natured look" (195). I've definitely experienced this too: after better understanding someone's character, your view of their physical appearances shift accordingly. This suggests that eventually, those who are actually good should triumph eventually (as they do in the end of Pride and Prejudice).
Pemberley, Darcy's estate, is obviously meant to echo its master's character. It is described that "in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, without any artificial appearance" (185). This natural importance" without "artificial appearance" is exactly the temperament Mr. Darcy is eventually shown to possess, and it is clear from the beauty of Pemberley that this genuine, unembellished "good" is far superior to the affected pretensions of morality and classiness embodied by so many other characters.

In a similar vein, the second half of the novel continues to reflect on the absurdity of class structure and snobbery. To me, the epitome of this was Mr. collins' letter about Lydia, which said, "the death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this" and recommended that Mr. Bennett "to throw off your unworthy child from your affection forever" (225). Even though Mr. Bennet doesn't exactly relish in Lydia's misdemeanor, there is no consideration of actually banishing her from the family. The fact that Mr. Collins proposes something which is so obviously immoral and cruel highlights both the absurdity of being concerned with public reputation to this extent, and the fact that being of higher class (as Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine are) does not confer good morals or good sense.
Similarly, when lady Catherine is talking to Elizabeth, Elizabeth says " Neither duty, nor honor, nor gratitude have any possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either, would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy" (274). She implies here that there is nothing morally reprehensible about marrying into lower classes, implying that there are certainly no moral differences between social classes, and thus that there are no truly sound reasons for class barriers to exist.

Though the novel focuses on the ability to change one's character, as Mr. Darcy is able to do, it seems that this is only possible to some extent. Elizabeth says to Jane: "If you were to give me forty such men, I could never be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I can never have your happiness " (267). From this quote, it seems that happiness is intrinsic, though it may be helped or hindered by circumstances. At the end of the novel, it seems that Elizabeth is as happy as Jane, but is it true that in reality, her happiness is constrained by her disposition? Are some people just generally more at peace with the world, while others are perpetually unsatisfied? Is it possible to change something this basic about oneself?

Pride and Prejudice (pg. 1-156)

It is immediately apparent from the opening set up of Pride and Prejudice that money, inheritance, and class are of utmost importance in the world occupied by the novel. However, within this more general motif, a few things stood out to me. Besides the fact that the Bennet girls out of necessity seek wealthy husbands in order to support them, it seems there is another less obvious motive for marrying rich. Mrs. Bennet says: "What an excellent father you have, girls . . . I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; or me either, for that matter" (5). The idea that children have to "repay" their parents is not entirely foreign, in that children often take care of parents as they age, but Mrs. Bennet seems to imply some financial recompense as well. If this is the case, then the burden a daughter faces by not inheriting her father's estate (as the Bennet girls do) is twofold: firstly supporting herself, but also "making amends," financial or otherwise, to her mother after her father dies. If the Bennet girls do not marry into money, they let down their parents as well as relinquishing their own comfortable life.
Though this necessity of marrying into wealth is obvious, the moral judgment of considering money when making romantic decisions is not entirely clear. Elizabeth understands why Wickham would pursue Miss King (with her newly inherited fortune) rather than her, but doesn't understand Darcy's justification of why he advised Bingley away from marrying Jane (who is poor). This is a bit of a double standard: it is acceptable to pursue wealth if you do not have it, but unacceptable (at least to Elizabeth) to be concerned about marrying into wealth if you already are wealthy. While Elizabeth is generally an extremely likable, rational, and honest character, she is still also subject to the social ideals and necessity of marrying for money: for instance, she likes Colonel Fitzwilliam well enough but can't even consider marrying him because he does not inherit the family's fortune. This emphasizes the extent to which money is engrained into females' consciousness, and that this somewhat unsavory pursuit is essentially unavoidable regardless of quality of character.
Amidst this constant background of the importance of money, the borders between socioeconomic classes are described as artificial and in many ways meaningless. The most obvious example of this is the pretense and snobbery of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Collins also says "Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinctions of rank preserved" (124). Lady Catherine's preference about clothing here reveals the fabricated nature of aristocracy: at this point, the only distinguishing feature to recommend the aristocracy or really differentiate them from other classes is clothing.

Another obvious motif throughout the novel is the process of courtship. I found the successes, failures, and processes of the the various different courtships that occur to be quite revealing about morals and standards of the time. Unlike the Enlightenment periodicals, in which a women's coquettishness is heavily criticized, the relationship between Jane and Bingley presents the dangers of the opposite: insufficient display of affection. Charlotte says of the couple "he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on" (15). Partly as a consequence of Jane's subtlety, Darcy advises Bingley against pursuing Jane further. Not only is flirtation no longer a problem: it is actually a necessity.
Beyond this initial condition for courtship, a more profound question arises: to what degree should you really know someone in order to make a good decision about their character, and whether to marry them? How can you judge someone objectively? Or is subjective judgment more important in the realm of love? On one hand, Wickham points "I have known [Darcy] too long and too well to be a fair judge. It is impossible to be impartial" (58). In this way of thinking, knowing someone too well actually impedes objectivism. However, this applies to a friendship rather than a romance, and must be taken with a grain of salt given Wickham's deception about Darcy. On the other end of this spectrum are Jane and Bingley: Charlotte and others wonder whether they can actually be in love after knowing each other for so short a time. In general, however, it seems that this is not considered problematic, and in fact I was struck by the speed at which most of the courtships/marriages in the novel occur. Because marriage is primarily practical, it is logical that the time period of "getting to know each other" is less important, however, for cases of actual love such as Jane and Bingley, perhaps speed simply intensifies the process but is not actually problematic.
Another somewhat bizarre characterization of courtship, related to the haste with which it often occurs, is unwillingness. Mr. Collins says to Lizzie, "You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there not been a little unwillingness" (80), and then later refuses to accept that Elizabeth is actually rejecting him. On one level, Mr. Collins is too silly and pompous to realize that he is being rejected; on another,  he actually relishes in coercing Lizzie into something she doesn't want (albeit unsuccessfully). This strange joy in her unwillingness seems to contrast the earlier emphasis on the necessity of female flirtation: being too eager. It also communicates some level of misogyny, in that women are required to be slightly desexualized, and "unwilling" so that they can be appropriately overpowered by men. However, since Lizzie is able to reject Mr. Collins' advances, and is obviously not in any real danger, it seems that perhaps Mr. Collins' attitude is somewhat outdated and gradually becoming less socially acceptable.