David Radcliff
English 262: Post-1800 English Literature
Dr. Harding
December 9, 2002
Affections and the Currency of Marriage in Pride and Prejudice
“For what do we live, but to make sport of our neighbors and laugh at them in our
turn?” – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
In 1813’s Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen cheerfully “makes sport” of her
neighbors and the class customs to which they so fervently adhere. The novel functions
as an unconventional love story, ironically structured within a society that thrives and
depends on everything conventional. Its heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, is as flawed and as
prejudicial as the characters she abhors, but she is not ultimately unredeemable.
Likewise, the presumed antagonist of the piece – a man described as being “not more
eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride” – develops into its humble hero,
quietly orchestrating the novel’s final events to ensure that no one’s pride (or wallet) is
injured (Austen 125). The unlikely marriage of these characters, in defiance of the
expectations of class and family, heroically makes room for love in matrimony and
embodies Austen’s commentary against the social snobbery of the Regency period. With
Pride and Prejudice, Austen examines the pitfalls of an economically-minded marriage
through the eventual unions of multiple characters – many of whom view marriage as
leverage for image and financial security, rather than as an expression of love.
The book itself is structured as a progression between these contrasting poles. It
opens with one of multiple miscommunications between Mr. and Mrs. Bennet – a couple
that repeatedly serves as a caricature of the tired, emotionally empty marriage. Their
union, in which “respect, esteem and confidence had vanished for ever”, illustrates the
dangers of a marriage in which love is no longer evident (Austen 155). As a pair, these
characters are both entertaining and tragic – he is full of clipped sarcasm while her
primary objective is to marry off their daughters into lives of wealth and stability. The
Bennets, then, conform to a familial structure that is common in Austen’s novels: “an
organized society of families, of fathers and mothers long married, whose existence has
been filled in having given birth to the heroes and heroines of the stories” (Simpson 293).
This is perhaps most frequently illustrated by Mr. Bennet, who, having fulfilled his duty
as material provider for his daughters, recedes into the comfortable chair of his study for
the majority of the novel. Even when Mr. Bennet does break free from his own
indifference during the search for Lydia and Wickham, he proves himself to be an
ineffectual paternal figure – he returns to Longbourn early and leaves Darcy to continue
the quest.
Mrs. Bennet’s contribution to the welfare of her children is more frenetic and
perhaps even more misguided. Her attempts to be true to the social climate in which she
lives cause her constantly to readjust her opinions of men based on their current status
with each of her daughters. After Mrs. Bennet learns of William Collins’s intent to marry
her daughter – first Jane, then Elizabeth – her opinion of him is greatly improved: “Mrs.
Bennet treasured up the hint…and the man whom she could not bear to speak of the day
before, was now high in her good graces” (Austen 48). This becomes a recurrent theme
with Mrs. Bennet, who dramatically reshapes her views of both Wickham and Darcy as
they marry Lydia and Jane, respectively. Unknowingly, she attempts to guide each of her
daughters toward unhappy but financially sound marriages, much like the one she shares
with Mr. Bennet. According to literary critic D.W. Harding, Austen presents Mrs.
Bennet as “one of ‘our’ richly comic characters, about whom we can feel superior,
condescending, perhaps a trifle sympathetic, and above all, heartily amused and free from
care” (Harding 297). Ultimately, Mrs. Bennet serves as a hypocritical cartoon and – like
her husband – a warning against the present system.
With Charlotte Lucas and Mr. Collins, Austen treats the reader to an equally
tragic union, one with which she hones in on “considered indifference to personal
relationships when they conflict with cruder advantages in the wider social world”
(Harding 298). Though Charlotte’s youth does not allow her time or reflection to
comprehend the magnitude of her decision, her listing of reasons for the marriage paints
an emotionally unsatisfying future: “Considering Mr. Collins’ character, connections, and
situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair, as most
people can boast on entering the marriage state” (Austen 85). Charlotte’s attitude toward
marriage is apathetic and dismissive and, as a result, the couple effectively deludes itself
into the pretense of a happy, adoring union: “My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind
and one way of thinking…We seem to have been designed for each other” (Austen 142).
In compliance with both Collins’ and Mrs. Bennet’s later advice that a person should take
who he or she can get, Charlotte and Collins aptly perpetuate the indifferent, superficial
attitude towards love that is predominant in the text – an attitude which even Elizabeth is
at great pains to struggle against.
Elizabeth’s blind affection for Wickham is indicative of this internal struggle.
Her attraction to the charming soldier not only heightens her prejudice against her future
husband, but also puts her in league with the superficiality of her younger sisters, who are
each categorically awestruck by the sight of a military uniform. The reader is even
informed that Elizabeth is inclined to believe Wickham’s tales because of the appeal of
his appearance alone: “If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it. Besides, there was truth
in his looks” (Austen 59). Through Wickham, Austen taps into the flaws and youthful
misconceptions of her heroine. Elizabeth’s relationship with Wickham reveals her to be
as prone to deception and hypocrisy as her parents, sisters or friends – a fault which
makes her all the more relatable and human: “To observe Elizabeth’s similarity to the
sluttish younger sister who marries the man she herself once found attractive is to
understand the moral point…we are not so very different from our neighbors, and we
must tirelessly discriminate among our common traits” (Brownstein 55).
Jane Austen’s letters to her sister Cassandra reveal a similar process of “tireless
discrimination” in her own life. She, like the younger characters of the novel, was
reportedly not above shameless crushes on young men: “E.M. Forster likened her to her
own Lydia Bennet and scorned her preoccupation with, as he put it, ‘officers, dances,
officers, giggling” (Hawkridge 22). However, Austen’s letters exhibit a gravity and
maturity not attributed to many of the characters of her novels. In a letter to her niece
Fanny, Jane offers sound advice on the subject of marriage: “[Do] not think of accepting
him unless you really do like him. Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than
marrying without Affection” (Chapman 410). Austen later put this advice into practice
herself – she accepted, then recanted, a marriage proposal from Harris Bigg-Wither, a
man of wealth and social standing who she realized she could not bring herself to love:
“She found she was miserable and that the place and fortune which would most certainly
be his could not alter the man” (Austen-Leigh 263). Here, Austen’s ability to distinguish
love from the allure of property elevates her beyond her presumed status as a giggling
flirt.
Elizabeth Bennet finds herself confronted with a comparable decision when she
rejects the proposal of Mr. Collins, a man who intellectualizes the reasons for their
marriage and presents them to her in an organized list. As described by Harding, this
scene is a key component in Austen’s criticism of the mores of her society, “a taste of the
fantastic nightmare in which economic and social institutions have such power over the
values of personal relationships” (Harding 298). Mr. Collins’ presentation, however, is
hardly seductive to Elizabeth or to the reader – there is very little affection in his
approach, and the event is illustrated as coldly as a business transaction or a reluctant
favor: “You should take into consideration that in spite of your manifold attractions, it is
by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made to you” (Austen
74). What lies at stake here is the stability of Elizabeth’s future, a fact made abundantly
clear by her mother’s insistence that Elizabeth not wait on love: “If you take it into your
head to go on refusing every offer…I am sure I do not know who is to maintain you when
your father is dead” (Austen 77). Mrs. Bennet’s warning is eerily similar to the insult
leveled at Elizabeth by Mr. Collins – both characters highlight the social responsibility to
marry quickly and without concern for emotional attachment. By refusing to submit to
what is expected from Collins’ arrogant proposal and from the social posturing of her
own family, however, Elizabeth sharply distinguishes herself from Charlotte Lucas and
Mrs. Bennet, both of whom remain consumed by the alluring trap of financial comforts.
With her marriage to Wickham, Lydia Bennet becomes yet another of the novel’s
casualties. She, like Charlotte Lucas, dupes herself into love out of convenience.
Unbeknownst to her, however, her marriage is nothing more than blackmail between two
men, and is also a setup for a lifetime of difficulty: “If money affairs go badly, as they
certainly will with…an out-and-out scoundrel like Wickham, the woman is still
responsible for the economic consequences, a victim herself of course, but still
responsible.” (Copeland 137). This arrangement essentially reduces Lydia to the status of
a prostitute, and her marriage a business exchange for Wickham’s own benefit. Lydia’s
eternal naivety keeps her blissfully unaware of this injustice. Instead, ever her mother’s
daughter, she views herself in a position of prestige stability: “Ah! Jane, I take your
place now, and you must go lower, because I am a married woman” (Austen 205).
Lydia’s simplistic hierarchy demonstrates how easily she has been conditioned by the
conventions of her society. Not surprisingly, Mrs. Bennet’s stature is also elevated by the
marriage and, as it represents her success as a mother, she makes great effort to bring it –
and potential marriages – to the awareness of the upper class: “My youngest of all is
lately married,” she tells the “esteemed” Lady Catherine, “and my eldest is…walking
with a young man, who I believe will soon become a part of the family” (Austen 229).
Mrs. Bennet speaks of Jane’s marriage to Bingley with assuredness, strongly reflecting
the confidence displayed by Collins in his prideful proposal to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth and Darcy, although the novel’s most unlikely pair, illustrate the
narrative’s most genuine form of affection. Although their union is a demotion of status
for Darcy, both characters gradually learn not to concern themselves with the opinions of
others. This characteristic, this mutual adoration, elevates their pairing beyond those of
the elder Bennets, Lydia-Wickham and Charlotte-Collins. Their defiance of social
expectation is most apparent during Elizabeth’s confrontation with Lady Catherine – a
woman who, throughout the novel, embodies the elitism and snobbery of the upper
spheres. Where Mrs. Bennet was so eager to impress Lady Catherine, Elizabeth
ultimately aims to dismantle the woman’s skewed and image-oriented perception of
marriage: “Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving
you the wished-for promise make their marriage at all more probable?...You have widely
mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these”
(Austen 233). With Elizabeth’s hard stance against Catherine, Austen illuminates the
inadequacies of the accepted social stigma of the time, emphasizing that love cannot be
programmed or manufactured.
Although Darcy and Elizabeth certainly undergo evolutions in their perceptions of
one another, the rest of the novel’s characters remain true to their original personas. Mrs.
Bennet, as part of her unwavering objective to marry everyone off, is thrilled by the
union of Darcy to her daughter for its material benefits: “How rich and how great you
will be! What pin-money, what jewels…Jane’s nothing to it!” (Austen 247). Austen
makes it evident here that Mrs. Bennet ultimately hasn’t learned a thing, as the character
immediately reduces her daughter’s marriage to its financial elements. To Elizabeth, this
is a union founded in love, but to her mother and class “marriage means a complex
engagement between the marrying couple and society – that is, it means not only feelings
but property as well” (Van Ghent 302). Although this suggests a perpetual cycle of
misguided marriages, the reader is allowed to find comfort in at least one of the novel’s
matrimonial pairings – one between two characters who initially didn’t seem right for
each other at all. The satisfaction drawn from their journey, and from the rejection of the
status quo marriage, is a popular theme in “Austen’s novels, where [love] more
frequently operates through the attraction of opposed energies, that is, through the fantasy
of becoming complete by association with something that one feels oneself to lack”
(Fergus 73).
Through a series of infatuations, misguided perceptions and matrimonial unions,
Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice performs a reversal not only on its two protagonists,
but also on the function of marriage in a society too preoccupied with social stature.
Austen’s commentary on romance in the Regency period rebels against its materialistic
preoccupations, championing the emotional aspects well above the financial benefits and
demands of class. The union of Elizabeth and Darcy is entirely representative of this.
Through the very act of their marriage, this unlikely couple subverts the socially accepted
motives of the marriages the come before it, their own representing a triumph: “a
marriage which society itself – bent on useful marriages – has paradoxically done
everything to prevent” (Van Ghent 303).