Mr. Bennett probably met Mrs. Bennett at Bath or some other “watering place”, and likely proposed to her on about the 4th occasion of their meeting. It was done that way. I suspect he was a bit of a bookish type, not used to society, entranced by a lively and sexy girl who seemed to open up a whole new world of experiences. Then he grew up and she stayed about the same.
That’s an excellent observation. Charlotte’s marriage was much more realistic than Lizzie’s. For a woman of her time and in her position, Charlotte made a wise match–she settled on a decent, financially secure man who would treat her well. She would have her household, her children, and as a clergyman’s wife, a position of some respect and responsibility. There’s satisfaction to be found in that, if not the happiness of true love. From a pragmatic standpoint, Lizzie is behaving very foolishly by holding out for love, and I think Charlotte’s marriage made her consider that.
Although Mary and Mr. Colllins would have made a great awful couple!
Mr. Bennett’s father would have owned Longbourne before him. Since we have no hint of cousins on that side - other than Mr. Collins - it is likely that Mr. Bennett was an only child. It may be that his mother died young (probably likely) and that Mr. Bennett’s father was much like Mr. Bennett - somewhat of a recluse who liked his books and sitting on his estate.
Mrs. Bennett would have been the former Miss Gardiner or Meryton - her sister, Mrs. Phillips, married one of their father’s law clerks. She was obviously beautiful (and fairly obviously still is a good looking woman). Silly, but very pretty.
It wouldn’t have been unusual for Mr. Bennett to have proposed after a very few occations of meeting the young Miss Gardiner. He possibly didn’t get out much (doesn’t like town, Austen herself hated Bath) and therefore possibly didn’t have a lot of girls to compare the beautiful Miss Gardiner to. Most women, in his opinion, lack sense - he doesn’t have a high opinion of women - and its likely that he felt that the only real difference between women was their looks. None of this would be unusual in a man of the era, women weren’t supposed to be sensible creatures - especially young women.
It would have been nice had he been able to hide his disgust of his wife from his children - even Elizabeth (and Austen) agree there, but I’m not sure that its reasonable to expect him to respect a women who has been his wife for twenty plus years and yet says within his hearing that she “still likes a red coat in my heart.” Making his disrespect verbal creates some of the best comedy in a very funny book - a ‘proper’ Mr. Bennett would make for a much less interesting P&P.
He has managed to keep her from spending them into poverty - mostly by selfishly looking after his own interests. But he may be sheltered enough that he has no idea how to raise girls - even if it was his responsibility to do so (and it wouldn’t have been).
There is a LOT of satisfaction in that. Gentlemen’s daughters had few opportunities for financial security - unless they had enough fortune to not have to worry about (like Emma - or Caroline Bingley). Marriage, companion or governess - and governess was a HORRIBLE job.
If you look at marriage like a job, and not with the romance of marrying for love, you want one that pays ok, where your boss isn’t a jerk, that’s going to provide security. If you happen to luck into one you love, you’ve been really lucky. In this era, a man can beat his wife, demand sex, he can drink away the money, he can bring home veneral diseases. Mr. Collins would not be the most pleasant man to have sitting across the breakfast table from you, but he would be the kind of man who - with the sort of management Charlotte does of him - you could give him two or three children, and then spend the rest of your life sitting across the breakfast table from him, ignoring him as much as possible while you raised your children and took care of the house.
Another dude here. I haven’t read P&P, but I’ve seen both the BBC and the 2005 movie adaptations. Does that count? 
The director of the 2005 Keira Knightley version (which I really like, although I know it’s not entirely true to the novel) says in the DVD commentary that he definitely thought that Mary was pining for Mr. Collins, and if you look closely there are several occasions where she wistfully gazes at him. Before Charlotte lures him away, though, he’s working his way through the Bennet daughters by descending birth order and never gets as far as her. I agree that, given their pompous natures and love of books, they’d be well-suited for each other.
I personally don’t think Mr. B. loathes his wife. He considers her silly, and vain, and he is prone to roll his eyes when she goes on and on about her nerves. He knows which buttons to push when he wants to get a rise out of her, and he is entertained by her overreactions to everything, but I don’t think he hates her. He has an underlying affection for her. His gentle mockery never crosses the line into cruelty, IMHO, and as other have noted, he (and Mr. Collins) are, for all their faults, better husbands than many were at that time.
But that’s very much the Keira Knightley version of the book. In the book and the BBC version, Mr. B doesn’t loathe his wife, but he really doesn’t care for her at all. He is indifferent to her at best, and irritated by her or even angry at her at worst. He’s a good husband in the sense that he does not physically harm her and that he curbs the worst of her financial excesses, a good father in the same senses. But beyond the elder two girls, he is in essence withdrawn from the family entirely, and he is slightly improper in that he exposes the mother and lesser three daughters to ridicule in public by making mildly belittling remarks to them. This is not an egregious offense, but it is a slight one. I love Mr. B, but he is not a blameless character.
God, I love the SDMB. In GQ, there’s a lively discussion of primogeniture, and in GD, of course, there’s lots of politics. Here, we’re actively debating P&P, and in the Pit there’s a couple of 1st Amendment debates going on!
I wonder if the directory of the KK version READ the book.
“With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally surprised to find that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her younger girls, and Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as her’s, he might become a very agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was done away. Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference with Elizabeth related the event of the day before.”
This does not sound like a girl PINING for Mr. Collins - she “might have been prevailed upon to accept him…”
If you liked the movies, you gotta read the book. It’s so much better–beautifully written and quite witty. Personally, I thought the 2005 movie completely missed the spirit of the book. I felt like it wanted to be Jane Eyre instead of Jane Austen. (Don’t get me wrong, I love Jane Eyre, but it’s a very, very different novel from P&P.)
Oy! - I have to disagree somewhat. Mr. B isn’t all that indifferent. After all, he does call on Bingley and introduce himself when Bingley moves in, because she’s asked him to (although I’m sure that polite society would demand it). He does push her buttons, and yes, sometimes he’s irrritated or angry, but what spouse isn’t? Although the younger girls run wild, it seems to be more indulgence than neglect. I’m sure that he would be considered “emotionally absent” in today’s world, but I don’t think he was so bad.
burundi - Did you watch the PBS Jane Eyre that was on before the Austen series? I wish now that I’d recorded it.
StG
The convention was that men were the ardent suitors, and women were the ones who reluctantly accepted their suits. However, Mrs B probably didn’t understand Mary very well, since they had such completely different personalities: she just knew that Mary was going to be the hardest one to marry off, since she showed no interest in any men and had fewer social graces than her sisters; and she probably had no idea about who Mary would really like to marry.
No, but I keep meaning to rent it. Is it good?
I think he called on Bingley because he knew he would be nagged to distraction by his wife and at least two of his daughters if he didn’t! This way he got to be a hero, and possibly do a good thing for his pet, Lizzie.
Check the voice - Austen switches voice in that sentence. She speaks as the omnicient narrator, telling us that Mary thinks Mr. Collins is “by no means as clever as herself” but “if encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as her’s, he might become a very agreeable companion.”
It’s a neat retro exercise to ask “who is the narrator” of pre-post-modern lit. I don’t think it is true that authors “typically” kept up a uniform narrative voice–the pomos didn’t invent this stuff but Ido give credit for their using it as a tool to help analyze.
For instance, I think a lot of the angle “we” get about Mary is from Lizzie–she has the horror of performing that makes Mary seem so pitiful and colors our view–when Lizzie isn’t there it may well be that her faults are not always in high relief and she can marry a clerk. After all, this book is all about Lizzie–all of the sisters are in her shadow–even sweet beautiful Jane is probably more intelligent, self-aware and witty than Lizzie thinks.
Do you think so? I think Jane is probably a little less intelligent than Lizzie believes, because she is so sweet. That is, that Lizzie is inclined to give her more credit than she actually merits because she loves Jane so much.
Its also about Austen, who spent years with these characters and saw them in detail. She wrote them as she knew them as well as writing them how Lizzie knew them - without a uniform voice.
I do wish she would have bothered to tell us about Colonel Fitzwilliam - he disappears after leaving Rosings and we hear no more of him - was he delighted by the marriage? Was he a frequent visitor to Pemberly? Did Lady Catherine fix on him as the husband of Anne?
Very interesting–I am convinced that “our” Jane is in part Lizzie’s Jane, but is Lizzie’s Jane better or worse than reality? Perhaps prettier and sweeter (Lizzie isn’t threatened by those qualities so she can wax on about them in Jane), but more or less intelligent? Will ponder.
OTOH, Lizzie sees her father rather more clearly than her mother–the mercenary marrying activities are precisely something Lizzie (and therefore we) can’t get past.
This is fascinating. Before you brought this up, I really just kind of accepted Lizzie’s assessment of the people around her as equivalent to Jane Austen’s, except when it came to Darcy and Wickham. But of course, you’re right. It is through Lizzie’s eyes that we’re seeing, much of the time.
I still have trouble seeing much of value in Mrs Bennet, though, no matter whose eyes I’m looking through. I can’t imagine much of anyone sincerely mourning her death except Jane.
Sorry, I didn’t see this - stupid email ;). I don’t think he would have been delighted, as he was rather taken with Lizzie himself, wasn’t he? But he had to marry money, as I recall. Since I don’t think there was anything actually wrong with Anne except that she was rather unwell and had a really overbearing mother, she might have done very well for him. I’d be rather unwell if I had Lady Catherine for a mother too!
I’ve always wondered why Austen’s work wasn’t more successful in her own lifetime. Too close to the source, I guess – other gentry types wouldn’t have gotten or appreciated the joke.
Some points I want to make:
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I think Charlotte really was satisfied with her marriage to Mr. Collins in a way that Lizzie could never have understood, as others have said. She doesn’t have the same expectations of marriage. I see her as being content with her “Now dear, don’t forget to take your pills,” etc., etc. sort of married life.
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I can forgive Mr. Bennett being tired to death of his silly wife, but he should have done better by all of his daughters! Those girls should have had governesses who would not only have taught them more, but better prepared them for the social status they were supposed to have as daughters of a gentleman. They should have been taken to London or Bath or wherever regularly, not only to see art galleries and so on but also to be able to go to balls and dinner parties and similar events where they could meet more eligible men. Kitty and Lydia would have been curbed and scolded when they acted up. And they shouldn’t have “come out” until at least their 17th birthdays anyway: no wonder the youngest are so silly! They’re just kids – it’s like your 14-year-old niece being up past midnight at a party with college-age men!
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But poor Mr. Bennett – think how terribly lonely he is when Jane and Lizzie marry and leave home! Just the missus and Mary and Kitty to talk to.
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The Keira Knightley version is much more serious than I like to think of Austen being. It shows poor Mary crying at the dance when she can’t even contribute by singing and playing. Think of it: you’ve got basically about three years (ages 17 to 20) to snag a husband. After that, you’re yesterday’s news. Maybe you’ll get married, but probably not. Terrifying. I think Mary knew early on she would never be pretty, talented, rich or otherwise interesting enough to attract a husband. She certainly doesn’t try very hard, but she fails even when she does try.
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The BBC version also shows Mary patting down her hair when Mr. Collins first arrives, and perking up later when it looks like he’s going to ask her to dance with him at the Netherfield ball (of course, he asks Lizzie “for the first two dances” instead, and Mary deflates).
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Anyone else think Lady Catherine’s daughter is a total hypochondriac?