I've long enjoyed
Joy Clarkson's podcast Speaking with Joy. She consistently gives insightful
commentary, book reviews, author interviews, and, my favorite, a series where
she considers a topic through art, music, and reading. She has brought much joy and beauty into my life. I am a much happier, wiser, more fully human because she, and her sister, have brought joy and beauty to my life and, more importantly, taught me how and why I must look for and create joy and beauty. When she announced she
was writing a book, Aggressively Happy: A Realist
Guide's Guide to Believing in the Goodness of Life, I immediately
pre-ordered it, knowing I would enjoy it. I've only had time to skim, and she
delivers. There is much to gain for those of us with a melancholy
nature. At the end of each chapter, she even included the elements I mentioned
above of something to read, see, listen to, and ponder for each topic she takes
up. I can easily recommend it.
One of Joy's
gifts is asking us to consider or re-consider some of our long-held beliefs, deepening
some, amending others, and discarding a few. For example, she convinced me
thoroughly that some of the male characters of Jane Austen's novels needed to
be held to a higher standard than some of us allowed, looking at you, Edward
Ferrars and Edmund Bertram.
In Pride and Prejudice, she even seeks to
rehabilitate our understanding of Mr. Collins, the Anglican priest and heir to
Longbourn. You can read an excerpt here https://www.plough.com/en/topics/culture/literature/why-we-should-envy-mr-collins or, better yet, buy
the book.
In her defense of
Mr. Collins and call to emulate him, she points out:
... for all his
flaws, there is a simplicity to Mr. Collins that I admire and enjoy. He lives
in a small and imperturbable world where all that matters is Fordyce’s sermons,
the securement of a wife for the increase of his happiness, and the
distinguished patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And while we’re all
laughing at him, Mr. Collins lives in a state of domestic felicity, blessed
with a stable life, a meaningful job, and excellent in-laws, satisfied with the
choices he has made in life.
Mr. Collins,
according to Joy, has developed the ability to enjoy his life, "...no joy
too small to celebrate," regardless of circumstances. She believes he
possesses contentment and contrasts him with Mr. Wickham, whose avarice is on full display .
She contends that
he attempted to do right by the Bennets in choosing Elizabeth to be his wife.
Had she said yes, neither her sisters nor her mother would have needed to find
another home as we see the Dashwoods do in Sense and Sensibility. Following
Elizabeth's refusal, Mr. Collins moves on to Charlotte, Lizzy's best friend, in
what Joy calls learning "to privately accept rejection in a way that feeds
neither bitterness nor helplessness. " She sees him as someone who does
"... not care too much of what other people think [of him]."
I took time to
consider her unique viewpoint. Joy does a wonderful job at describing the
practice of contentment and its benefits, the role of personal dignity, and the
need to live a quiet life, but I cannot see this illustrated in the life of Mr.
Collins. I concluded that while Mr. Collins may be content, his contentment is
not grown in the rich soil of humility and gratitude, but in the hubris he shows
in his constant comparing of himself and his situation to others. There is
simply too much evidence that Collins is a warning to us, not someone we should
'be like.' While she contrasts Mr.
Collins "contentment" and Mr. Wickham's avarice to make her point
about Mr. Collins's practice of contentment, I think a study of the
differences between Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy produces a richer understanding of
both men, especially of Mr. Collins as a warning, not as an emulation. This
approach deepens the theme of contentment by seeing the humility required for genuine
contentment.
Let's start with
the title of the book, Pride and Prejudice. Austen gives us an abundance of
characters, not just the lead couple, who are stricken with both vices by
nature and nurture. She brings up Mr. Darcy's lack of tact as one example of
someone whose pride would make him annoying and selfish if we judge him on the
same merits as Mr. Collins. I completely agree.
To follow Joy's
lead, let's look at both men's reactions to Elizabeth's rejection of their
proposals. Mr. Collins, after his proposal is met with rejection, attributes it
to an attempt on Lizzy's part to "increasing [his] love by suspense."
He cannot or rather will not accept and see that she does not see the situation
as he does. We are told, "He thought too well of himself to comprehend
what motive his cousin could have in refusing him; and though his pride was
hurt, he suffered in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary;...'
Elizabeth is stunned by his 'perseverance in wilful self-deception.' Only after
being assured by her mother that, indeed, Lizzy does not accept his proposal
does he believe her. He expresses his displeasure with 'stiffness of manner and
resentful silence' and 'angry pride.' This is not Mr. Collins taking it on the
chin and carrying on in a way to be praised as Joy describes. He does, however,
'carry on.' His 'dignified public acceptance of defeat,' as Joy calls it, was
followed by proposing to and marrying her best friend. As Joy points out, he
certainly wasn't helpless, but I'm not convinced there are no other motives
(bitterness, revenge?) expressed in his proposal to Charlotte. After all, had
he been genuinely concerned about the family's welfare, as Joy and he both contend
he is, he could have just as easily
proposed to other Bennett sisters and assuredly been accepted by one. His
concern for them was not as 'excessively generous and disinterested in his own
part' as he thought himself to be.
We see a similar
proposal by Mr. Darcy, not in its obsequience or lack of sincerity, but in its
arrogance. He finds her attractive in many ways, but as with Mr. Collins, we
get the impression that she and her family are considered beneath him. Both men feel they are doing her a favor in proposing in their own way. Fortunately,
Elizabeth had enough sense and dignity to see this and reject it from both men.
Darcy, we are told, responded with 'no less resentment, than surprise,' smiled
with 'affected incredulity,' was 'astonished' with 'mingled incredulity and
mortification.' He obviously heard her. He couldn't understand and was
offended, but he heard her words and responded to them, quite fervently at the
time, unlike Mr. Collins 'wilful self-deception.' His later response in his
letter sought not to persuade her further of his proposal; he had far too much
dignity to do so but to set the matter straight about Wickham and his
interference with Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley.
He is honest in
his response, with one phrase standing out among others. In referring to his
actions regarding Jane and Bingley, he says, " 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." (italics mine). We see in this one sentence two essential
characteristics of Darcy. One, acknowledging that his motives appear naturally
insufficient to her. He recognizes she can and does have her own views. It is
something he admires in her. Two, by saying he has 'not yet learned,' he is
open to his motives being wrong, and, as we read the rest of the novel, we see
him examine and correct those motives. Darcy has not just the capacity to
learn; he does so willingly. At the end of the novel, he even credits
Elizabeth's role, as we see here:
“I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not
in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to
correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in
pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I
was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly,
all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to
be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to
think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of
their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and
twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest
Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first,
but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a
doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions
to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”
The pride we
rightly criticize in Darcy, he sees and works to rectify. His esteem of
Elizabeth grants him the ability to be humbled. Collins's esteem of others only
gives him more hubris. He acts not on innate dignity but only that which he
borrows from his associations with people in power and situations. He is a
parasite on others for his "contentment." This is the most significant
difference between Collins and Darcy. This reveals what is at the heart of this
novel; dignified humility allows us to know when we practice 'wilful
self-deception.' True contentment and gratitude grow from humility. Not a
virtue Collins nurtures. [note to self: essay on the description of both men's
upbringing to show deficits of character training, but the ability to overcome
those are rooted in humility as well]
Collins has
little humility to enable him to recognize his self-deception. He blames
others' rejection of him from his perception of their 'faults.' The virtues of
contentment and thankfulness she attempts to see in Mr. Collins result from his
pride, not humility and gratitude, and therefore are poorly disguised boasts.
He compares in order to boast. His speech is full of comparing others and their
situations with his association with Lady Catherine de Bourgh and his situation
at Rosings to show his is the better. His contentment is based on his prideful
image, not on anything of substance. He uses Lady Catherine De Bourg as a means of his identity to
bolster himself in his own eyes and in an attempt to impress others. When Joy
writes about his delight in the shelves, it seems to me he does so to show Elizabeth
what she could have had.
Where he
thoroughly shows his vanity is in the letter he sends to the family when news
reaches him of Kitty and Wickham's elopement:
"MY DEAR SIR,
"I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my
situation in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now
suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from
Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely
sympathise with you and all your respectable family, in your present distress,
which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no
time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so
severe a misfortune—or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be
of all others the most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of your
daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more
to be lamented, because there is reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte informs
me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has proceeded from a
faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time, for the consolation of
yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own disposition must
be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity, at so early
an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously to be pitied; in which
opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine
and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in
apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the
fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly
says, will connect themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads
me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event of last
November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your
sorrow and disgrace. Let me then advise you, dear sir, to console yourself as
much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your affection for
ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offense. [note to
self: Charlotte's response here is interesting, look more closely at this
later]
There is nothing
pastoral or humble in his response. His hubris is on display; his comparisons,
associations, assumptions, and suggestions are all centered on how this would
have affected him had he been a member of the immediate family. Darcy, on the
other hand, handles the situation quite differently.
He readily
acknowledges his responsibility in the situation, not letting others know of Wickham's character
out of his own pride. He then takes more responsibility than
is required of him by finding Lydia and Wickham, paying Wickham's debts
(again), and providing them means of support and a wedding. He has no qualms
about proposing again to Elizabeth even though this will associate him with the
Bennets and tie him to Wickham for the rest of his life. He handles it far more
pastorally than our Anglican priest, Mr. Collins.
If my criticism
of Collins sounds harsh, it is not meant to be. We are meant to laugh at
him at times. The basis of that laughter is viewing him as Austen portrays him,
as a satirical character. His pompous, poorly veiled, critical spirit and
manner deserve our disdain and laughter. We laugh and say ouch at the same time. We feel awkward at his actions and words, then become aware of our own
awkward actions and words, and laugh at ourselves. We see his pomposity, and
critical spirit and manner, and we see our own and repent. Being able to do so
reveals the humility in our hearts. We are asked to see that surrounding
ourselves with those whose company will provide iron to sharpen iron, to know
our own vices to condemn them, and know the needed virtues to practice.
To practice godliness with our contentment.
The Nine Tailors by Dorothy L. Sayers
