Context
More than once did Elizabeth in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy.- She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought; and to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first, that it was a favourite haunt of hers..- How it could occur a second time therefore was very odd!- Yet it did, and even a third. It seemed like wilful ill-nature, or a voluntary penance, for on these occasions it was not merely few formal inquiries and an awkward pause and then away, but he actually thought it necessary to turn back and walk with her. He never said a great deal, nor did she give herself the trouble of talking or of listening much; but it struck her in the course of their third recontre that he was asking some odd unconnected questions- about her pleasure in being at Hunsford, her love of solitary walks, and her opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Collins's happiness; and that in speaking of Rosings and her not perfectly understanding the house, he seemed to expect that whenever she came into Kent again she would be staying there too. His words seemed to imply it. Could he have Colonel Fitzwilliam in his thoughts? She supposed, if he meant any thing, he must mean an allusion to what might arise in that quarter. It distressed her a little, and she was quite glad to find herself at the gate in the pales opposite the Parsonage.
Analysis
In this passage, we can see one of the key techniques Austen uses to evoke emotion from her readers. Before the events of this passage, Darcy had accidentally upset Elizabeth with his careless criticism of her looks in their first meeting, and as such she bears little feeling towards him. However, as readers, we were also given insight ( that Elizabeth lacked ) into Darcy's conversations with others, and as such we as readers realised beforehand the feelings Darcy developed for Elizabeth. These factors play a crucial role in the way Austen builds up tension in the story before the climax.
In this passage, Elizabeth is confused as to Darcy's behaviour towards her. From her point of view, there is little or no reason for him to wish to be in her company. Unaware of his feelings for her, and with her belief that their dislike for one another was mutual, she is therefore understandably confused by his actions. As for Darcy, we as the readers understand without Austen having to say anything that Darcy's actions reflect his feelings towards Elizabeth, and that in reality he's trying to make advances on her. What is ironic about the situation is the fact that had Darcy not acted so abominally towards Elizabeth in the beginning of the story, or had Elizabeth not believed Wickham's fradulent story of Darcy's past, she might have well have seen his actions for what they were.
Dramatic irony also comes into play in this passage as we alone as the readers had been given insight into the circumstances surrounding this situation, whereas both Darcy and Elizabeth remain blissfully ignorant. As a result, we as the readers are the only ones who see the significance of Darcy's actions, and the error of Elizabeth's thoughts and beliefs. This creates a certain "eagerness" in the readers the misunderstanding between the two main characters to be resolved, which is built up as the number of similar occasions to this accumulate. This passage thus serves as a buildup to the story's climax - where Darcy "showed hand" in his letter to Elizabeth - by creating tension in the readers.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
My Favourite passage from PnP- Theodora
Chapter 36
In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did not err. But when she read and re-read with the closest attention, the particulars immediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality—deliberated on the probability of each statement—but with little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read on; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.
The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his entrance into the——shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town, had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As to his real character, had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue.
She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy had described as the idleness and vice of many years' continuance. But no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss Darcy, received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at last she was referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam himself—from whom she had previously received the information of his near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his cousin's corroboration.
She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation between Wickham and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Phillips's. Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was NOW struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy—that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that HE should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also that, till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but herself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son.
How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary; and the
mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not but allow Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance—an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways—seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust—anything that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits; that among his own connections he was esteemed and valued—that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling; that had his actions been what Mr. Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man as Bingley, was incomprehensible.
She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.
"How despicably I have acted!" she cried; "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself."
Analysis:
This passage is something like a turning point where Elizabeth finally finds out what is really happening and does a self reflection.
All the while, Elizabeth has prided herself on her discernment. We can see this from how she "read and re-read with close attention" after she received Darcy's letter. She cannot believe in whatever is said in the letter because it contadicts with her prior judgements. It is evident she trusts in her character judging ability a lot so much so she has to check the letter over and over again to finally accept the fact that she is wrong. She sees herself as someone who can read the character of another person accurately and has always thought highly of her ability. At this point, she realises how "wretchedly blind" she was when at last she figured out the real character of Wickham through the letter of Darcy.
She goes on to reflect that she has not been considering reasons but acted according to her feelings, "driven reasons away", assuming that Wickham is a nice person because he is friendly while treating Darcy as a proud and mean person because he is aloof. At this point, she finds out her mistake and understands that being proud is her folly. She is too proud to assume that she is always right and neglect the details bringing about this "blameable mistrust". This is truely a self reflection point as even Elizabeth herself agrees that "till this moment I never knew myself". She thinks through about her character and rethinks about whatever she thought of in the past-Janes display of affection towards Bingley and how it is her family that is affecting the relationship of Jane and Bingley. Also, her feelings towards Darcy changed a little and started to feel bad at treating Darcy the way she treated him.
This passage talks about appearance versus reality. We can compare between Darcy and Wickham, how they both appear to be someone that is different from their character. Wickham although looked amiable, but he is a crook whereas Darcy, although he looked proud, is an agreeable man who cares about his family (sister) and even people who are not close to him Lydia. From here we can understand that what looks true does not necessarily be what is happening.
This passage is a pivotal moment whereby all the misunderstandings come to light and this allowed the relationship between Darcy and Elizabeth to develop. It also caused Elizabeth to change her perception of things.
In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she walked on; but it would not do; in half a minute the letter was unfolded again, and collecting herself as well as she could, she again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what he had related himself; and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own words. So far each recital confirmed the other; but when she came to the will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the other; and, for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did not err. But when she read and re-read with the closest attention, the particulars immediately following of Wickham's resigning all pretensions to the living, of his receiving in lieu so considerable a sum as three thousand pounds, again was she forced to hesitate. She put down the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality—deliberated on the probability of each statement—but with little success. On both sides it was only assertion. Again she read on; but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.
The extravagance and general profligacy which he scrupled not to lay at Mr. Wickham's charge, exceedingly shocked her; the more so, as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his entrance into the——shire Militia, in which he had engaged at the persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town, had there renewed a slight acquaintance. Of his former way of life nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself. As to his real character, had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice, and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue.
She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy; or at least, by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy had described as the idleness and vice of many years' continuance. But no such recollection befriended her. She could see him instantly before her, in every charm of air and address; but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to read. But, alas! the story which followed, of his designs on Miss Darcy, received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before; and at last she was referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam himself—from whom she had previously received the information of his near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal, if he had not been well assured of his cousin's corroboration.
She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation between Wickham and herself, in their first evening at Mr. Phillips's. Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was NOW struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and wondered it had escaped her before. She saw the indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy—that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that HE should stand his ground; yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also that, till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but herself; but that after their removal it had been everywhere discussed; that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son.
How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned! His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary; and the
mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive; he had either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter and fainter; and in farther justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not but allow Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair; that proud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance—an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways—seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust—anything that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits; that among his own connections he was esteemed and valued—that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling; that had his actions been what Mr. Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world; and that friendship between a person capable of it, and such an amiable man as Bingley, was incomprehensible.
She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.
"How despicably I have acted!" she cried; "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself."
Analysis:
This passage is something like a turning point where Elizabeth finally finds out what is really happening and does a self reflection.
All the while, Elizabeth has prided herself on her discernment. We can see this from how she "read and re-read with close attention" after she received Darcy's letter. She cannot believe in whatever is said in the letter because it contadicts with her prior judgements. It is evident she trusts in her character judging ability a lot so much so she has to check the letter over and over again to finally accept the fact that she is wrong. She sees herself as someone who can read the character of another person accurately and has always thought highly of her ability. At this point, she realises how "wretchedly blind" she was when at last she figured out the real character of Wickham through the letter of Darcy.
She goes on to reflect that she has not been considering reasons but acted according to her feelings, "driven reasons away", assuming that Wickham is a nice person because he is friendly while treating Darcy as a proud and mean person because he is aloof. At this point, she finds out her mistake and understands that being proud is her folly. She is too proud to assume that she is always right and neglect the details bringing about this "blameable mistrust". This is truely a self reflection point as even Elizabeth herself agrees that "till this moment I never knew myself". She thinks through about her character and rethinks about whatever she thought of in the past-Janes display of affection towards Bingley and how it is her family that is affecting the relationship of Jane and Bingley. Also, her feelings towards Darcy changed a little and started to feel bad at treating Darcy the way she treated him.
This passage talks about appearance versus reality. We can compare between Darcy and Wickham, how they both appear to be someone that is different from their character. Wickham although looked amiable, but he is a crook whereas Darcy, although he looked proud, is an agreeable man who cares about his family (sister) and even people who are not close to him Lydia. From here we can understand that what looks true does not necessarily be what is happening.
This passage is a pivotal moment whereby all the misunderstandings come to light and this allowed the relationship between Darcy and Elizabeth to develop. It also caused Elizabeth to change her perception of things.
My Favourite Passage from Pride and Prejudice - Ananda Kang Xian Da, 08S205
"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."
He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.
"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."
"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance."
He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends - whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley,) shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: - but let me not interrupt you, sir. - You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."
The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."
"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."
"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.
"Books - Oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."
"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. - We may compare our different opinions."
"No - I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."
"The present always occupies you in such scenes - does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."
"I am," said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied. She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.
Analysis:
Here we see an excellent example of the 'romantic' tension between Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth. Elizabeth, in all her Pride of being a judge of other people's characters, views Fitz in a Prejudiced light. She is more inclined to do so especially after Mr. Wickham, who is viewed by her very positively, relates to her about how he lost possession of a place to live because of Fitz.
While not exactly a clever exchange of witty lines between the two like what we usually see, this passage serves as a basis of the true relationship between Liz and Fitz, notably its rocky beginnings. Liz tells Fitz that she is trying to make out his character, but we can see that she chooses to only base it upon what others say about him instead of trying to discover it herself, and as a result is unable to judge him clearly. Fitz is hardly allowed a chance to clear himself of this misjudgement as he implores Liz "not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either". But he still forgives her when she doesn't let up, due to his strong affection towards her.
This passage serves as a key focal point in the story as it builds up a foundation for the development of elizabeth and Fitzwilliam's romantic relationship later on in the novel.
He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.
"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."
"Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance."
He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends - whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley,) shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: - but let me not interrupt you, sir. - You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."
The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, "Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of."
"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."
"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.
"Books - Oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."
"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. - We may compare our different opinions."
"No - I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."
"The present always occupies you in such scenes - does it?" said he, with a look of doubt.
"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."
"I am," said he, with a firm voice.
"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your success?"
She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."
"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied. She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.
Analysis:
Here we see an excellent example of the 'romantic' tension between Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth. Elizabeth, in all her Pride of being a judge of other people's characters, views Fitz in a Prejudiced light. She is more inclined to do so especially after Mr. Wickham, who is viewed by her very positively, relates to her about how he lost possession of a place to live because of Fitz.
While not exactly a clever exchange of witty lines between the two like what we usually see, this passage serves as a basis of the true relationship between Liz and Fitz, notably its rocky beginnings. Liz tells Fitz that she is trying to make out his character, but we can see that she chooses to only base it upon what others say about him instead of trying to discover it herself, and as a result is unable to judge him clearly. Fitz is hardly allowed a chance to clear himself of this misjudgement as he implores Liz "not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either". But he still forgives her when she doesn't let up, due to his strong affection towards her.
This passage serves as a key focal point in the story as it builds up a foundation for the development of elizabeth and Fitzwilliam's romantic relationship later on in the novel.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
My Favourite passage from PnP- Kai Kai
Passage
Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened; it was impossible to think of any thing else, and, totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding directly to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darycy's sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane which led her farther from the turnpike road. The park paling was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the ground.
After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk, when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park; he was moving that way; and fearful of its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name. She had turned away, but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also, and holding out a letter, which she instinctively took, said with a look of haughty composure, ``I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?'' -- And then, with a slight bow, turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight.
With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder, perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written quite through, in a very close hand. -- The envelope itself was likewise full. -- Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated from Rosings, at eight o'clock in the morning, and was as follows: --
"Be not alarmed, Madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers, which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes, which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten; and the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice.
"Two offences of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude, you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley from your sister; -- and the other, that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity, and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham. -- Wilfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity to which the separation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. -- But from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally bestowed, respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future secured, when the following account of my actions and their motives has been read. -- If, in the explanation of them which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to your's, I can only say that I am sorry. -- The necessity must be obeyed -- and farther apology would be absurd. -- I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister to any other young woman in the country. -- But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. -- I had often seen him in love before. -- At that ball, while I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted, by Sir William Lucas's accidental information, that Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event, of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister I also watched. -- Her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard, and I remained convinced from the evening's scrutiny, that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment. -- If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable. -- If it be so, if I have been misled by such error, to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. -- That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain, -- but I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. -- I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it; -- I believed it on impartial conviction, as truly as I wished it in reason. -- My objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside in my own case; the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. -- But there were other causes of repugnance; -- causes which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree in both instances, I had myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before me. -- These causes must be stated, though briefly. -- The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father. -- Pardon me. -- It pains me to offend you. But amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations, and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your eldest sister, than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. -- I will only say farther that, from what passed that evening, my opinion of all parties was confirmed, and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. -- He left Netherfield for London, on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning. --
The part which I acted is now to be explained. -- His sisters' uneasiness had been equally excited with my own; our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered; and, alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother, we shortly resolved on joining him directly in London. -- We accordingly went -- and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend, the certain evils of such a choice. -- I described, and enforced them earnestly. -- But, however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by the assurance, which I hesitated not in giving, of your sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal, regard. -- But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own. -- To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. -- I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. -- That they might have met without ill consequence is, perhaps, probable; -- but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. -- Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. -- It is done, however, and it was done for the best. -- On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done; and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them. --
With respect to that other, more weighty accusation, of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he has particularly accused me, I am ignorant; but of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity. Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates; and whose good conduct in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to be of service to him; and on George Wickham, who was his god-son, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school, and afterwards at Cambridge; -- most important assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not only fond of this young man's society, whose manners were always engaging; he had also the highest opinion of him, and hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities -- the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which Mr. Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain -- to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character. It adds even another motive. My excellent father died about five years ago; and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady, that in his will he particularly recommended it to me to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow, and, if he took orders, desired that a valuable family living might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of one thousand pounds. His own father did not long survive mine, and within half a year from these events Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that, having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage, in lieu of the preferment by which he could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, and I must be aware that the interest of one thousand pounds would be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished than believed him to be sincere; but, at any rate, was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The business was therefore soon settled. He resigned all claim to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return three thousand pounds. All connection between us seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town, I believe, he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretence, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of him; but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained, if I would present him to the living in question -- of which he trusted there could be little doubt, as he was well assured that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances -- and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others, as in his reproaches to myself. After this period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropt. How he lived I know not. But last summer he was again most painfully obtruded on my notice. I must now mention a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago, she was taken from school, and an establishment formed for her in London; and last summer she went with the lady who presided over it, to Ramsgate; and thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design; for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Younge, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived; and by her connivance and aid he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement. She was then but fifteen, which must be her excuse; and after stating her imprudence, I am happy to add that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement; and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure, but I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs. Younge was of course removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which is thirty thousand pounds; but I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed.
This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together; and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood, he has imposed on you; but his success is not, perhaps, to be wondered at. Ignorant as you previously were of every thing concerning either, detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. You may possibly wonder why all this was not told you last night. But I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of every thing here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and still more as one of the executors of my father's will, has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same cause from confiding in my cousin; and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands in the course of the morning. I will only add, God bless you.
FITZWILLIAM DARCY.''
Analysis:
The passage above is my favourite one. It never fails to amaze me that something seemingly insignificant such a letter could reveal so much about a person.
Mr Darcy is viewed by many in the story as "proud" and reserved. He was taught since young to "care for none beyond (his) own family circle", yet he obviously expresses his care and love for Elizabeth through this letter. As could be seen from the length of the letter, and the elaborate details he has provided, it could be seen that he has spent much time and effort writing this letter. An important man like Mr. Darcy has also spent "the morning" waiting for Elizabeth to pass her the letter personally. This shows that the letter is important to him. And indeed, the letter serves as a tool to dissolve any misunderstanding between them. The writer of the letter, Mr. Darcy, who is not a man of words as could be seen by his "proud" and aloof demeanor in the story, is able to spend time to think through his thoughts and pen it down as eloquently as possible on paper for Elizabeth; likewise, the recipient, Elizabeth is able to "re-read" the letters as many times as she wants to, so as to be able to think through her thoughts and iron out all prejudices she might have with Mr. Darcy. All these would not be possible without the letter, as Mr Darcy's "pride" and Elizabeth's "prejudice" would prevent a calm and rational conversation between them.
All in all, the passage above has revealed to me a lot about Mr. Darcy. And it has always been my personal opinion that the letter plays a huge part in ironing out any differences between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
My Favourite P&P passage - Khye An (08S205)
``From Mr. Collins! and what can he have to say?''
``Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows.''
``Having thus offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in this land.''
``Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?''
``This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of mortal can most desire, -- splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of.''
``Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out.''
``My motive for cautioning you is as follows. We have reason to imagine that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with a friendly eye.''
``Mr. Darcy, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I have surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man within the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his life! It is admirable!''
Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so little agreeable to her.
``Are you not diverted?''
``Oh! yes. Pray read on.''
``After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion; when it become apparent, that on the score of some family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.''
``Mr. Collins moreover adds,''
``I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place should be so generally known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declaring my amazement at hearing that you received the young couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them as a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing.''
``That is his notion of Christian forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be Missish, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?''
``Oh!'' cried Elizabeth, ``I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange!''
``Yes -- that is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man it would have been nothing; but his perfect indifference, and your pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?''
To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much.
Analysis:
This passage reveals much about Mr Collins, and Mr Bennet as well, with a few references to other main events in the story.
Firstly, Mr Collins...
He declares that Mr Darcy "is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of mortal can most desire, -- splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage". This shows how Mr Collins' values are very materialistic, caring only about wealth and status, and not about character and love. He even labels these things (wealth, status etc.) as temptations, and expects that they will seize on the opportunity immediately, likely because it is what he would have done. It portrays him in a very mercenary light, and reveals some of his foolishness.
He also says that elizabeth and darcy should "not run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned." His attempts to maintain proper procedure and decorum are comic throughout the novel, and makes him a very stifling and dislikeable character. This is further shown by his comments on Lydia's situation, and what he thinks Mr Bennet should have done. In this way, we can see that he is sort of hypocritical, be it on purpose or not. Being a priest of clergyman, he tries to help people to lead more virtuous lives, yet he condemns Lydia terribly and advises Mr Bennet not to allow them into his house, which is not being forgiving at all.
Mr Bennet...
This conversation with Elizabeth is one of the instances in the novel where he shows his preferences for her by conversing with her as an equal, and pokes fun at others for their amusement, instead of jesting at her expense, which is often how he treats his wife and 3 younger daughters. His exclamation of how much he values his correspondence with Mr Collins over Wickham's is an insight into his failings as a parent, as he takes things too lightly and treats character flaws of others as merely something for him to laugh at, and not as a lesson for his daughters. This is partially the cause of Lydia's and Kitty's ill behaviour.
Finally, this passage comes across as quite emotionally strong to me, as Elizabeth tries to control the tumultuous emotions she experiences after Lady Catherine's visit, and is further tested by the her father's reading out the letter to her, and all the talk about Darcy. I empathise with Lizzy and the confusion and hurt she must be feeling, not knowing what Darcy's feelings actually are, and her father unknowingly mocking her situation.
I'd like to end this with a quote from this passage, which i find quite entertaining, and may even be true... It sums up Mr Bennet perfectly in a single sentence.
For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?
``Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows.''
``Having thus offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on this happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; of which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in this land.''
``Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?''
``This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of mortal can most desire, -- splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my cousin Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a precipitate closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of.''
``Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out.''
``My motive for cautioning you is as follows. We have reason to imagine that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with a friendly eye.''
``Mr. Darcy, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I have surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man within the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his life! It is admirable!''
Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so little agreeable to her.
``Are you not diverted?''
``Oh! yes. Pray read on.''
``After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she felt on the occasion; when it become apparent, that on the score of some family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.''
``Mr. Collins moreover adds,''
``I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad business has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their living together before the marriage took place should be so generally known. I must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from declaring my amazement at hearing that you received the young couple into your house as soon as they were married. It was an encouragement of vice; and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously have opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them as a Christian, but never to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing.''
``That is his notion of Christian forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be Missish, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?''
``Oh!'' cried Elizabeth, ``I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange!''
``Yes -- that is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man it would have been nothing; but his perfect indifference, and your pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I abominate writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?''
To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she would rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much.
Analysis:
This passage reveals much about Mr Collins, and Mr Bennet as well, with a few references to other main events in the story.
Firstly, Mr Collins...
He declares that Mr Darcy "is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of mortal can most desire, -- splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage". This shows how Mr Collins' values are very materialistic, caring only about wealth and status, and not about character and love. He even labels these things (wealth, status etc.) as temptations, and expects that they will seize on the opportunity immediately, likely because it is what he would have done. It portrays him in a very mercenary light, and reveals some of his foolishness.
He also says that elizabeth and darcy should "not run hastily into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned." His attempts to maintain proper procedure and decorum are comic throughout the novel, and makes him a very stifling and dislikeable character. This is further shown by his comments on Lydia's situation, and what he thinks Mr Bennet should have done. In this way, we can see that he is sort of hypocritical, be it on purpose or not. Being a priest of clergyman, he tries to help people to lead more virtuous lives, yet he condemns Lydia terribly and advises Mr Bennet not to allow them into his house, which is not being forgiving at all.
Mr Bennet...
This conversation with Elizabeth is one of the instances in the novel where he shows his preferences for her by conversing with her as an equal, and pokes fun at others for their amusement, instead of jesting at her expense, which is often how he treats his wife and 3 younger daughters. His exclamation of how much he values his correspondence with Mr Collins over Wickham's is an insight into his failings as a parent, as he takes things too lightly and treats character flaws of others as merely something for him to laugh at, and not as a lesson for his daughters. This is partially the cause of Lydia's and Kitty's ill behaviour.
Finally, this passage comes across as quite emotionally strong to me, as Elizabeth tries to control the tumultuous emotions she experiences after Lady Catherine's visit, and is further tested by the her father's reading out the letter to her, and all the talk about Darcy. I empathise with Lizzy and the confusion and hurt she must be feeling, not knowing what Darcy's feelings actually are, and her father unknowingly mocking her situation.
I'd like to end this with a quote from this passage, which i find quite entertaining, and may even be true... It sums up Mr Bennet perfectly in a single sentence.
For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?
My Favourite Passage From P&P - Nurul Atiqah 08S303
As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again; her uncle and aunt stopped also: and while the former was conjecturing as to the date of the building, the owner of it himself suddenly came forward from the road which led behind it to the stables.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
She had instinctively turned away; but, stopping on his approach, received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on beholding his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she returned to his civil enquiries after her family. Amazed at the alteration in his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued together were some of the most uncomfortable of her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease: when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his enquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her stay in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.
At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took leave.
The others then joined her, and expressed their admiration of his figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange must it appear to him! In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination; for it was plain that he was that moment arrived -- that moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly altered -- what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was amazing! -- but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family! Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, nor how to account for it.
They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed to know what at that moment was passing in his mind -- in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice which was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with composure.
At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind roused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.
They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile, they were told that it was ten miles round. It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water, in one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the man about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. This idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw, that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness, she began as they met to admire the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her, might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said no more.
(Volume III, Chapter 43)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Analysis:
Frankly speaking, I have more than one favourite passage from Pride and Prejudice but I will settle for this one, in which Elizabeth visits Pemberley when Mr Darcy returns earlier than his servants expected and his changed attitude since Elizabeth's rejection of his proposal. I count this passage as one of my favourite parts of the novel as it is very interesting how Austen interweaves the interaction between the couple as well as characterisation into the description of the surrounding. It is also awkwardly amusing how the both of them are clearly struggling not to reveal their nervousness as they meet for the first time since the rejected proposal and yet they are anxious to know what is going on in each other's mind.
One of the major themes surrounding the portion of the novel is one of romantic love. In this passage, Austen utilises space and symbolism to bring about or suggest the eventual union of Mr Darcy and Elizabeth, as well as to shed light on the true character of Mr Darcy. Much like the earlier subtle links between the beauty of Pemberley and the character of Mr Darcy, the choice of words "beautiful walk" in the quote "entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water", after the unexpected meeting between the two, is important as a symbol of the eventual happy ending that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy experiences. The quote may also be a subtle description of Elizabeth's realisation of the beauty of Mr Darcy's true character in which "every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground or a finer reach of the woods". This serves as an extension of Mr Darcy's character as noble and fine, and Elizabeth realises this as she is led deeper into his true character -- the deeper she is led into his character, the more noble and fine she discovers Mr Darcy to be.
Class identity and class divide is also key theme in this passage. Symbolism is further used in the part where Elizabeth meets Mr Darcy for the second time that day after he excuses himself earlier on as she and the Gardiners were crossing "a simple bridge... a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited". This bridge symbolises the figurative bridge between the Mr Darcy's higher aristocratic class and Elizabeth's lower class that makes way for the eventual union of the two classes when Elizabeth accepts Mr Darcy's second proposal towards the end of the novel. The word "simple" as well as the phrase "spot less adorned than any they had yet visited" serve to show that this union of two different classes is purely stemmed from true love between the couple, without any complications of hidden motives that Lady de Bourgh later accuses Elizabeth of having.
In conclusion, the use of space and the Picturesque as symbols has served as an important tool for Austen to highlight the romantic interaction between the two characters and to bring out the true character of Mr Darcy. This passage is a crucial point in the development of the relationship between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy as she realises how far her initial assessment of Mr Darcy's character is from his true self and is compelled to see Mr Darcy in an different light altogether, which brings them one major step towards establishing a romantic relationship and eventually marriage between them.
They were within twenty yards of each other, and so abrupt was his appearance that it was impossible to avoid his sight. Their eyes instantly met, and the cheeks of each were overspread with the deepest blush. He absolutely started, and for a moment seemed immoveable from surprise; but shortly recovering himself, advanced towards the party, and spoke to Elizabeth, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
She had instinctively turned away; but, stopping on his approach, received his compliments with an embarrassment impossible to be overcome. Had his first appearance, or his resemblance to the picture they had just been examining, been insufficient to assure the other two that they now saw Mr. Darcy, the gardener's expression of surprise, on beholding his master, must immediately have told it. They stood a little aloof while he was talking to their niece, who, astonished and confused, scarcely dared lift her eyes to his face, and knew not what answer she returned to his civil enquiries after her family. Amazed at the alteration in his manner since they last parted, every sentence that he uttered was increasing her embarrassment; and every idea of the impropriety of her being found there recurring to her mind, the few minutes in which they continued together were some of the most uncomfortable of her life. Nor did he seem much more at ease: when he spoke, his accent had none of its usual sedateness; and he repeated his enquiries as to the time of her having left Longbourn, and of her stay in Derbyshire, so often, and in so hurried a way, as plainly spoke the distraction of his thoughts.
At length every idea seemed to fail him; and, after standing a few moments without saying a word, he suddenly recollected himself, and took leave.
The others then joined her, and expressed their admiration of his figure; but Elizabeth heard not a word, and, wholly engrossed by her own feelings, followed them in silence. She was overpowered by shame and vexation. Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world! How strange must it appear to him! In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man! It might seem as if she had purposely thrown herself in his way again! Oh! why did she come? or, why did he thus come a day before he was expected? Had they been only ten minutes sooner, they should have been beyond the reach of his discrimination; for it was plain that he was that moment arrived -- that moment alighted from his horse or his carriage. She blushed again and again over the perverseness of the meeting. And his behaviour, so strikingly altered -- what could it mean? That he should even speak to her was amazing! -- but to speak with such civility, to inquire after her family! Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness as on this unexpected meeting. What a contrast did it offer to his last address in Rosings Park, when he put his letter into her hand! She knew not what to think, nor how to account for it.
They had now entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they were approaching; but it was some time before Elizabeth was sensible of any of it; and, though she answered mechanically to the repeated appeals of her uncle and aunt, and seemed to direct her eyes to such objects as they pointed out, she distinguished no part of the scene. Her thoughts were all fixed on that one spot of Pemberley House, whichever it might be, where Mr. Darcy then was. She longed to know what at that moment was passing in his mind -- in what manner he thought of her, and whether, in defiance of everything, she was still dear to him. Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice which was not like ease. Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her she could not tell, but he certainly had not seen her with composure.
At length, however, the remarks of her companions on her absence of mind roused her, and she felt the necessity of appearing more like herself.
They entered the woods, and bidding adieu to the river for a while, ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. Mr. Gardiner expressed a wish of going round the whole park, but feared it might be beyond a walk. With a triumphant smile, they were told that it was ten miles round. It settled the matter; and they pursued the accustomed circuit; which brought them again, after some time, in a descent among hanging woods, to the edge of the water, in one of its narrowest parts. They crossed it by a simple bridge, in character with the general air of the scene; it was a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited; and the valley, here contracted into a glen, allowed room only for the stream and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. Elizabeth longed to explore its windings; but when they had crossed the bridge, and perceived their distance from the house, Mrs. Gardiner, who was not a great walker, could go no farther, and thought only of returning to the carriage as quickly as possible. Her niece was, therefore, obliged to submit, and they took their way towards the house on the opposite side of the river, in the nearest direction; but their progress was slow, for Mr. Gardiner, though seldom able to indulge the taste, was very fond of fishing, and was so much engaged in watching the occasional appearance of some trout in the water, and talking to the man about them, that he advanced but little. Whilst wandering on in this slow manner, they were again surprised, and Elizabeth's astonishment was quite equal to what it had been at first, by the sight of Mr. Darcy approaching them, and at no great distance. The walk being here less sheltered than on the other side, allowed them to see him before they met. Elizabeth, however astonished, was at least more prepared for an interview than before, and resolved to appear and to speak with calmness, if he really intended to meet them. For a few moments, indeed, she felt that he would probably strike into some other path. This idea lasted while a turning in the walk concealed him from their view; the turning past, he was immediately before them. With a glance, she saw, that he had lost none of his recent civility; and, to imitate his politeness, she began as they met to admire the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words "delightful," and "charming," when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her, might be mischievously construed. Her colour changed, and she said no more.
(Volume III, Chapter 43)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Analysis:
Frankly speaking, I have more than one favourite passage from Pride and Prejudice but I will settle for this one, in which Elizabeth visits Pemberley when Mr Darcy returns earlier than his servants expected and his changed attitude since Elizabeth's rejection of his proposal. I count this passage as one of my favourite parts of the novel as it is very interesting how Austen interweaves the interaction between the couple as well as characterisation into the description of the surrounding. It is also awkwardly amusing how the both of them are clearly struggling not to reveal their nervousness as they meet for the first time since the rejected proposal and yet they are anxious to know what is going on in each other's mind.
One of the major themes surrounding the portion of the novel is one of romantic love. In this passage, Austen utilises space and symbolism to bring about or suggest the eventual union of Mr Darcy and Elizabeth, as well as to shed light on the true character of Mr Darcy. Much like the earlier subtle links between the beauty of Pemberley and the character of Mr Darcy, the choice of words "beautiful walk" in the quote "entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water", after the unexpected meeting between the two, is important as a symbol of the eventual happy ending that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy experiences. The quote may also be a subtle description of Elizabeth's realisation of the beauty of Mr Darcy's true character in which "every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground or a finer reach of the woods". This serves as an extension of Mr Darcy's character as noble and fine, and Elizabeth realises this as she is led deeper into his true character -- the deeper she is led into his character, the more noble and fine she discovers Mr Darcy to be.
Class identity and class divide is also key theme in this passage. Symbolism is further used in the part where Elizabeth meets Mr Darcy for the second time that day after he excuses himself earlier on as she and the Gardiners were crossing "a simple bridge... a spot less adorned than any they had yet visited". This bridge symbolises the figurative bridge between the Mr Darcy's higher aristocratic class and Elizabeth's lower class that makes way for the eventual union of the two classes when Elizabeth accepts Mr Darcy's second proposal towards the end of the novel. The word "simple" as well as the phrase "spot less adorned than any they had yet visited" serve to show that this union of two different classes is purely stemmed from true love between the couple, without any complications of hidden motives that Lady de Bourgh later accuses Elizabeth of having.
In conclusion, the use of space and the Picturesque as symbols has served as an important tool for Austen to highlight the romantic interaction between the two characters and to bring out the true character of Mr Darcy. This passage is a crucial point in the development of the relationship between Elizabeth and Mr Darcy as she realises how far her initial assessment of Mr Darcy's character is from his true self and is compelled to see Mr Darcy in an different light altogether, which brings them one major step towards establishing a romantic relationship and eventually marriage between them.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Mah Fav'rit Pryde 'N Prejudise Passage (Dominic Low, 08S205)
'She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. -- Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think, without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.
``How despicably have I acted!'' she cried. -- ``I, who have prided myself on my discernment! -- I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity, in useless or blameable distrust. -- How humiliating is this discovery! -- Yet, how just a humiliation! -- Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly. -- Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself.''
From herself to Jane -- from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation there had appeared very insufficient; and she read it again. Widely different was the effect of a second perusal. -- How could she deny that credit to his assertions, in one instance, which she had been obliged to give in the other? -- He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious of her sister's attachment; -- and she could not help remembering what Charlotte's opinion had always been. -- Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Jane. -- She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.
When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were mentioned, in terms of such mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had been thus self-attracted by the rest of her family; -- and as she considered that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond any thing she had ever known before.
After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought; re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence made her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.' - Chapter XIII of Volume II, Pride and Prejudice
Analysis
This passage follows almost immediately after Elizabeth reads Darcy's letter in Rosings, and primarily emphasises and highlights the underlying theme of irony that pervades most of the chapters in the novel. It also serves as a turning point of the novel, where most of Elizabeth’s perception and attitude towards the other characters in the novel are drastically changed.
The theme of irony is emphasised when Elizabeth realises how her perception of both Darcy and Wickham has been clouded by her emotions all along, even as she prides herself for her reasoning, and hence, her apparent objective judgement of others. This can be seen from how she feels that she ‘had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd’ and to ‘have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away’. The irony of previous event s (in which Elizabeth’s actions were greatly influenced by her emotionally-warped perspective of others, e.g. Darcy and Wickham) is also collected at this point in the novel and laid bare for the protagonist (Elizabeth) to see, when Elizabeth reflects and finally realises how blind and prejudiced she had been. This further emphasises the irony prevalent in the novel, as there is the culmination of the dramatic irony accumulated via Elizabeth’s apparent revelation of her past actions which simultaneously brings out as well as enhances the sense of irony at this point in the novel.
The passage also serves as a pivot in the novel, whereby Elizabeth changes her viewpoint of Darcy and Wickham. This is evident from her later actions in the novel (i.e. after this passage) where she begins to feel compassionate for Darcy and eventually fall in love with him, as well as the how she distances herself from Wickham. In contrast to her earlier actions and attitudes towards the two characters in the earlier part of the novel, Elizabeth’s perception seems to take an almost reverse direction, which makes this passage not only an obvious but strong plot pivot, but also a foundation in the build-up to the climax of the novel (where Elizabeth declares her love for Darcy).
In conclusion, the passage emphasises on the theme of irony that pervades the entire novel. It also acts as a turning point and a foundation to the climax of the novel. And that’s why I prefer this passage the most of all.
``How despicably have I acted!'' she cried. -- ``I, who have prided myself on my discernment! -- I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity, in useless or blameable distrust. -- How humiliating is this discovery! -- Yet, how just a humiliation! -- Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly. -- Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself.''
From herself to Jane -- from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation there had appeared very insufficient; and she read it again. Widely different was the effect of a second perusal. -- How could she deny that credit to his assertions, in one instance, which she had been obliged to give in the other? -- He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious of her sister's attachment; -- and she could not help remembering what Charlotte's opinion had always been. -- Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Jane. -- She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.
When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were mentioned, in terms of such mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as having passed at the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had been thus self-attracted by the rest of her family; -- and as she considered that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond any thing she had ever known before.
After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought; re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue, and a recollection of her long absence made her at length return home; and she entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.' - Chapter XIII of Volume II, Pride and Prejudice
Analysis
This passage follows almost immediately after Elizabeth reads Darcy's letter in Rosings, and primarily emphasises and highlights the underlying theme of irony that pervades most of the chapters in the novel. It also serves as a turning point of the novel, where most of Elizabeth’s perception and attitude towards the other characters in the novel are drastically changed.
The theme of irony is emphasised when Elizabeth realises how her perception of both Darcy and Wickham has been clouded by her emotions all along, even as she prides herself for her reasoning, and hence, her apparent objective judgement of others. This can be seen from how she feels that she ‘had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd’ and to ‘have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away’. The irony of previous event s (in which Elizabeth’s actions were greatly influenced by her emotionally-warped perspective of others, e.g. Darcy and Wickham) is also collected at this point in the novel and laid bare for the protagonist (Elizabeth) to see, when Elizabeth reflects and finally realises how blind and prejudiced she had been. This further emphasises the irony prevalent in the novel, as there is the culmination of the dramatic irony accumulated via Elizabeth’s apparent revelation of her past actions which simultaneously brings out as well as enhances the sense of irony at this point in the novel.
The passage also serves as a pivot in the novel, whereby Elizabeth changes her viewpoint of Darcy and Wickham. This is evident from her later actions in the novel (i.e. after this passage) where she begins to feel compassionate for Darcy and eventually fall in love with him, as well as the how she distances herself from Wickham. In contrast to her earlier actions and attitudes towards the two characters in the earlier part of the novel, Elizabeth’s perception seems to take an almost reverse direction, which makes this passage not only an obvious but strong plot pivot, but also a foundation in the build-up to the climax of the novel (where Elizabeth declares her love for Darcy).
In conclusion, the passage emphasises on the theme of irony that pervades the entire novel. It also acts as a turning point and a foundation to the climax of the novel. And that’s why I prefer this passage the most of all.
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