Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austin
house, sharing the same amusements, objects of the same
parental care. _My_ father began life in the profession which
your uncle, Mr. Phillips, appears to do so much credit to—but he
gave up everything to be of use to the late Mr. Darcy and devoted
all his time to the care of the Pemberley property. He was most
highly esteemed by Mr. Darcy, a most intimate, confidential
friend. Mr. Darcy often acknowledged himself to be under the
greatest obligations to my father’s active superintendence, and
when, immediately before my father’s death, Mr. Darcy gave him a
voluntary promise of providing for me, I am convinced that he
felt it to be as much a debt of gratitude to _him_, as of his
affection to myself.”
“How strange!” cried Elizabeth. “How abominable! I wonder that
the very pride of this Mr. Darcy has not made him just to you! If
from no better motive, that he should not have been too proud to
be dishonest—for dishonesty I must call it.”
“It _is_ wonderful,” replied Wickham, “for almost all his actions
may be traced to pride; and pride had often been his best friend.
It has connected him nearer with virtue than with any other
feeling. But we are none of us consistent, and in his behaviour
to me there were stronger impulses even than pride.”
“Can such abominable pride as his have ever done him good?”
“Yes. It has often led him to be liberal and generous, to give
his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants,
and relieve the poor. Family pride, and _filial_ pride—for he is
very proud of what his father was—have done this. Not to appear
to disgrace his family, to degenerate from the popular qualities,
or lose the influence of the Pemberley House, is a powerful
motive. He has also _brotherly_ pride, which, with _some_
brotherly affection, makes him a very kind and careful guardian
of his sister, and you will hear him generally cried up as the
most attentive and best of brothers.”
“What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?”
He shook his head. “I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me
pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much like her
brother—very, very proud. As a child, she was affectionate and
pleasing, and extremely fond of me; and I have devoted hours and
hours to her amusement. But she is nothing to me now. She is a
handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and, I understand,
highly accomplished. Since her father’s death, her home has been
London, where a lady lives with her, and superintends her
education.”
After many pauses and many trials of other subjects, Elizabeth
could not help reverting once more to the first, and saying:
“I am astonished at his intimacy with Mr. Bingley! How can Mr.
Bingley, who seems good humour itself, and is, I really believe,
truly amiable, be in friendship with such a man? How can they
suit each other? Do you know Mr. Bingley?”
“Not at all.”
“He is a sweet-tempered, amiable, charming man. He cannot know
what Mr. Darcy is.”
“Probably not; but Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He does
not want abilities. He can be a conversible companion if he
thinks it worth his while. Among those who are at all his equals
in consequence, he is a very different man from what he is to the
less prosperous. His pride never deserts him; but with the rich
he is liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and
perhaps agreeable—allowing something for fortune and figure.”
The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered
round the other table and Mr. Collins took his station between
his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Phillips. The usual enquiries as to
his success were made by the latter. It had not been very great;
he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Phillips began to express
her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity
that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the
money as a mere trifle, and begged that she would not make
herself uneasy.
“I know very well, madam,” said he, “that when persons sit down
to a card-table, they must take their chances of these things,
and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five
shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not
say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am
removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters.”
Mr. Wickham’s attention was caught; and after observing Mr.
Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice
whether her relation was very intimately acquainted with the
family of de Bourgh.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” she replied, “has very lately given
him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced
to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long.”
“You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne
Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present
Mr. Darcy.”
“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine’s
connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before
yesterday.”
“Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune,
and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two
estates.”
This information made Elizabeth smile, as she thought of poor
Miss Bingley. Vain indeed must be all her attentions, vain and
useless her affection for his sister and her praise of himself,
if he were already self-destined for another.
“Mr.