Pride and Prejudice

Jane Austen Biography

Jane Austen was born on December 16, 1775, in Steventon, Hampshire, England. While not widely known in her own time, Austen's comic novels of love among the landed gentry gained popularity after 1869, and her reputation skyrocketed in the 20th century. Her novels, including Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, are considered literary classics, bridging the gap between romance and realism.

The seventh child and second daughter of Cassandra and George Austen, Jane Austen was born on December 16, 1775, in Steventon, Hampshire, England. Jane's parents were well-respected community members. Her father served as the Oxford-educated rector for a nearby Anglican parish. The family was close and the children grew up in an environment that stressed learning and creative thinking. When Jane was young, she and her siblings were encouraged to read from their father's extensive library. The children also authored and put on plays and charades.

Over the span of her life, Jane would become especially close to her father and older sister, Cassandra. Indeed, she and Cassandra would one day collaborate on a published work.

In order to acquire a more formal education, Jane and Cassandra were sent to boarding schools during Jane's pre-adolescence. During this time, Jane and her sister caught typhus, with Jane nearly succumbing to the illness. After a short period of formal education cut short by financial constraints, they returned home and lived with the family from that time forward.

Ever fascinated by the world of stories, Jane began to write in bound notebooks. In the 1790s, during her adolescence, she started to craft her own novels and wrote Love and Freindship [sic], a parody of romantic fiction organized as a series of love letters. Using that framework, she unveiled her wit and dislike of sensibility, or romantic hysteria, a distinct perspective that would eventually characterize much of her later writing. The next year she wrote The History of England..., a 34-page parody of historical writing that included illustrations drawn by Cassandra. These notebooks, encompassing the novels as well as short stories, poems and plays, are now referred to as Jane's Juvenilia.

Jane spent much of her early adulthood helping run the family home, playing piano, attending church, and socializing with neighbours.

Steventon Church, as depicted in A Memoir of Jane Austen.

Her nights and weekends often involved cotillions, and as a result, she became an accomplished dancer. On other evenings, she would choose a novel from the shelf and read it aloud to her family, occasionally one she had written herself. She continued to write, developing her style in more ambitious works such as Lady Susan, another epistolary story about a manipulative woman who uses her sexuality, intelligence and charm to have her way with others. Jane also started to write some of her future major works, the first called Elinor and Marianne, another story told as a series of letters, which would eventually be published as Sense and Sensibility. She began drafts of First Impressions, which would later be published as Pride and Prejudice, and Susan, later published as Northanger Abbey by Jane's brother, Henry, following Jane's death.

In 1801, Jane moved to Bath with her father, mother and Cassandra. Then, in 1805, her father died after a short illness. As a result, the family was thrust into financial straits; the three women moved from place to place, skipping between the homes of various family members to rented flats. It was not until 1809 that they were able to settle into a stable living situation at Jane's brother Edward's cottage in Chawton.

Now in her 30s, Jane started to anonymously publish her works. In the period spanning 1811-16, she pseudonymously published Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice (a work she referred to as her darling child, which also received critical acclaim), Mansfield Park and Emma.

In 1816, at the age of 41, Jane started to become ill with what some say might have been Addison's disease. She made impressive efforts to continue working at a normal pace, editing older works as well as starting a new novel called The Brothers, which would be published after her death as Sanditon. Another novel, Persuasion, would also be published posthumously. At some point, Jane's condition deteriorated to such a degree that she ceased writing. She died on July 18, 1817, in Winchester, Hampshire, England.

Jane Austen Novel Discussion

Sense and Sensibility tells the story of the impoverished Dashwood sisters. Marianne is the heroine of sensibility—i.e., of openness and enthusiasm. She becomes infatuated with the attractive John Willoughby, who seems to be a romantic lover but is in reality an unscrupulous fortune hunter. He deserts her for an heiress, leaving her to learn a dose of sense in a wholly unromantic marriage with a staid and settled bachelor, Colonel Brandon, who is 20 years her senior. By contrast, Marianne’s older sister, Elinor, is the guiding light of sense, or prudence and discretion, whose constancy toward her lover, Edward Ferrars, is rewarded by her marriage to him after some distressing vicissitudes.

Pride and Prejudice describes the clash between Elizabeth Bennet, the daughter of a country gentleman, and Fitzwilliam Darcy, a rich and aristocratic landowner. Although Austen shows them intrigued by each other, she reverses the convention of first impressions: pride of rank and fortune and prejudice against the inferiority of the Bennet family hold Darcy aloof, while Elizabeth is equally fired both by the pride of self-respect and by prejudice against Darcy’s snobbery. Ultimately, they come together in love and self-understanding. The intelligent and high-spirited Elizabeth was Jane Austen’s own favourite among all her heroines and is one of the most engaging in English literature.

Northanger Abbey combines a satire on conventional novels of polite society with one on Gothic tales of terror. Catherine Morland, the unspoiled daughter of a country parson, is the innocent abroad who gains worldly wisdom, first in the fashionable society of Bath and then at Northanger Abbey itself, where she learns not to interpret the world through her reading of Gothic thrillers. Her mentor and guide is the self-assured and gently ironic Henry Tilney, her husband-to-be.

In its tone and discussion of religion and religious duty, Mansfield Park is the most serious of Austen’s novels. The heroine, Fanny Price, is a self-effacing and unregarded cousin cared for by the Bertram family in their country house. Fanny emerges as a true heroine whose moral strength eventually wins her complete acceptance in the Bertram family and marriage to Edmund Bertram himself, after that family’s disastrous involvement with the meretricious and loose-living Crawfords.

Of all Austen’s novels, Emma is the most consistently comic in tone. It centres on Emma Woodhouse, a wealthy, pretty, self-satisfied young woman who indulges herself with meddlesome and unsuccessful attempts at matchmaking among her friends and neighbours. After a series of humiliating errors, a chastened Emma finds her destiny in marriage to the mature and protective George Knightley, a neighbouring squire who had been her mentor and friend.

Persuasion tells the story of a second chance, the reawakening of love between Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth, whom seven years earlier she had been persuaded not to marry. Now Wentworth returns from the Napoleonic Wars with prize money and the social acceptability of naval rank. He is an eligible suitor acceptable to Anne’s snobbish father and his circle, and Anne discovers the continuing strength of her love for him.

Jane Austen Interesting Facts

Help from the family

When Austen penned First Impressions, the book that would become Pride and Prejudice, in 1797, her proud farther George took it to a London publisher named Thomas Cadell for review. Cadell rejected it unread. It's not clear if Jane was even aware that George approached Cadell on her behalf.

Much later, in 1810, her brother Henry would act as her literary agent, selling Sense and Sensibility to London publisher Thomas Egerton.

Anonymous publications

From Sense and Sensibility through Emma, Austen's published works never bore her name. Sense and Sensibility carried the byline of A Lady, while later works like Pride and Prejudice featured credits like, By the Author of Sense and Sensibility.

Backing out of marriage

The year after her family's move to the city of Bath in 1801, Austen received a proposal of marriage from Harris Bigg-Wither, a financially prosperous childhood friend.

A 10 year break

When her family moved to Bath and subsequently kept relocating following her father's death in 1805, Austen's writing habits were severely disrupted. Once prolific—she completed three of her novels by 1801—a lack of a routine kept her from producing work for roughly 10 years. It wasn't until she felt her home life was stable after moving into property owned by her brother, Edward, that Austen resumed her career.

Straight pins

For an unfinished novel titled The Watsons, Austen took the pins and used them to fasten revisions to the pages of areas that were in need of correction or rewrites. The practice dates back to the 17th century.

Home brewing

In Austen's time, beer was the drink of choice, and like the rest of her family, Austen could brew her own beer. Her specialty was spruce beer, which was made with molasses for a slightly sweeter taste.

Poison

Austen lived to see only four of her six novels published. She died on July 18, 1817 at the age of 41 following complaints of symptoms that medical historians have long felt pointed to Addison's disease or Hodgkin's lymphoma. In 2017, the British Library floated a different theory—that Austen was poisoned by arsenic in her drinking water due to a polluted supply or possibly accidental ingestion due to mismanaged medication.

Court decisions

Jurists often use Austen as a kind of shorthand to explain matters involving relationships or class distinctions. Half of the decisions used the opening line from Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in

possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

However, little known the feelings or views of such a man may

be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well

fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered

the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

My dear Mr. Bennet, said his lady to him one day, "have you

heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

But it is, returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and

she told me all about it."

Mr. Bennet made no answer.

Do you not want to know who has taken it? cried his wife

impatiently.

YOU want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.

This was invitation enough.

"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield

is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of

England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to

see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed

with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession

before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the

house by the end of next week."

What is his name?

Bingley.

Is he married or single?

"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large

fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our

girls!"

How so? How can it affect them?

My dear Mr. Bennet, replied his wife, "how can you be so

tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying

one of them."

Is that his design in settling here?

"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely

that he MAY fall in love with one of them, and therefore you

must visit him as soon as he comes."

"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you

may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still

better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley

may like you the best of the party."

"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly HAVE had my share of

beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now.

When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give

over thinking of her own beauty."

In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of.

"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when

he comes into the neighbourhood."

It is more than I engage for, I assure you.

"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment

it would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are

determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you

know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will

be impossible for US to visit him if you do not."

"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will

be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to

assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he

chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for

my little Lizzy."

"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better

than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as

Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always

giving HER the preference."

They have none of them much to recommend them, replied he;

"they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy

has something more of quickness than her sisters."

"Mr. Bennet, how CAN you abuse your own children in such a

way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion

for my poor nerves."

"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your

nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention

them with consideration these last twenty years at least."

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour,

reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty

years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his

character. HER mind was less difficult to develop. She was a

woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain

temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous.

The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its

solace was visiting and news.

Chapter 2

Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr.

Bingley. He had always intended to visit him, though to the last

always assuring his wife that he should not go; and till the

evening after the visit was paid she had no knowledge of it.

It was then disclosed in the following manner. Observing his

second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he suddenly

addressed her with:

I hope Mr. Bingley will like it, Lizzy.

We are not in a way to know WHAT Mr. Bingley likes, said

her mother resentfully, since we are not to visit.

But you forget, mamma, said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet

him at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long promised to introduce

him."

"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two

nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I

have no opinion of her."

No more have I, said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that

you do not depend on her serving you."

Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to

contain herself, began scolding one of her daughters.

"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little

compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces."

Kitty has no discretion in her coughs, said her father; "she

times them ill."

I do not cough for my own amusement, replied Kitty fretfully.

When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?

To-morrow fortnight.

Aye, so it is, cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come

back till the day before; so it will be impossible for her to

introduce him, for she will not know him herself."

"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and

introduce Mr. Bingley to HER."

"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted

with him myself; how can you be so teasing?"

"I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is

certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by

the end of a fortnight. But if WE do not venture somebody else

will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her daughters must stand their

chance; and, therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness,

if you decline the office, I will take it on myself."

The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only,

Nonsense, nonsense!

What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation? cried

he. "Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress

that is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with

you THERE. What say you, Mary? For you are a young lady of

deep reflection, I know, and read great books and make extracts."

Mary wished to say something sensible, but knew not how.

While Mary is adjusting her ideas, he continued, "let us return

to Mr. Bingley."

I am sick of Mr. Bingley, cried his wife.

"I am sorry to hear THAT; but why did not you tell me that

before? If I had known as much this morning I certainly would

not have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have

actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now."

The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of

Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first

tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she

had expected all the while.

"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should

persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well

to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it

is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning

and never said a word about it till now."

Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose, said Mr.

Bennet; and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the

raptures of his wife.

What an excellent father you have, girls! said she, when the

door was shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him

amends for his kindness; or me, either, for that matter. At our

time of life it is not so pleasant, I can tell you, to be making

new acquaintances every day; but for your sakes, we would do

anything. Lydia, my love, though you ARE the youngest, I dare

say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball."

Oh! said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I AM the

youngest, I'm the tallest."

The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he

would return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they

should ask him to dinner.

Chapter 3

Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her

five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw

from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley.

They attacked him in various ways—with barefaced questions,

ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the

skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the

second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her

report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted

with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely

agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next

assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful!

To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love;

and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained.

"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at

Netherfield, said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, and all the

others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for."

In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat

about ten minutes with him in his library. He had entertained

hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of

whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only the father.

The ladies were somewhat more fortunate, for they had the

advantage of ascertaining from an upper window that he wore

a blue coat, and rode a black horse.

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and

already had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do

credit to her housekeeping, when an answer arrived which

deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the

following day, and, consequently, unable to accept the honour

of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite disconcerted.

She could not imagine what business he could have in town so

soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear

that he might be always flying about from one place to another,

and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas

quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone

to London only to get a large party for the ball; and a report

soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and

seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls grieved

over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the day

before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought

only six with him from London—his five sisters and a cousin.

And when the party entered the assembly room it consisted of

only five altogether—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband

of the eldest, and another young man.

Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant

countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine

women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr.

Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon

drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome

features, noble mien, and the report which was in general

circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having

ten thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine

figure of a man, the ladies declared he was much handsomer than

Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about

half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned

the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud;

to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his

large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most

forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be

compared with his friend.

Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the

principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved,

danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early,

and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable

qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between

him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst

and once with Miss Bingley, declined being introduced to any

other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about

the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His

character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable

man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come

there again. Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs.

Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour was sharpened

into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her

daughters.

Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen,

to sit down for two dances; and during part of that time,

Mr. Darcy had been standing near enough for her to hear a

conversation between him and Mr. Bingley, who came from the

dance for a few minutes, to press his friend to join it.

Come, Darcy, said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see

you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had

much better dance."

"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am

particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as

this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and

there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a

punishment to me to stand up with."

I would not be so fastidious as you are, cried Mr. Bingley,

"for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many

pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are

several of them you see uncommonly pretty."

YOU are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,

said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But

there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is

very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my

partner to introduce you."

Which do you mean? and turning round he looked for a

moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own

and coldly said: "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to

tempt ME; I am in no humour at present to give consequence

to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better

return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting

your time with me."

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and

Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings toward him.

She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends;

for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in

anything ridiculous.

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole

family. Mrs. Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much

admired by the Netherfield party. Mr. Bingley had danced with

her twice, and she had been distinguished by his sisters. Jane

was as much gratified by this as her mother could be, though in

a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's pleasure. Mary had heard

herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished

girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been

fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all

that they had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned,

therefore, in good spirits to Longbourn, the village where they

lived, and of which they were the principal inhabitants. They

found Mr. Bennet still up. With a book he was regardless of

time; and on the present occasion he had a good deal of

curiosity as to the events of an evening which had raised such

splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that his wife's

views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon

found out that he had a different story to hear.

Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet, as she entered the room, "we have

had a most delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you

had been there. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it.

Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought

her quite beautiful, and danced with her twice! Only think of

THAT, my dear; he actually danced with her twice! and she was

the only creature in the room that he asked a second time.

First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him

stand up with her! But, however, he did not admire her at all;

indeed, nobody can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with

Jane as she was going down the dance. So he inquired who she

was, and got introduced, and asked her for the two next. Then

the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth with

Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the two

sixth with Lizzy, and the BOULANGER—"

If he had had any compassion for ME, cried her husband

impatiently, "he would not have danced half so much! For God's

sake, say no more of his partners. O that he had sprained

his ankle in the first place!"

"Oh! my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so

excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women.

I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses.

I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown—"

Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against

any description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek

another branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness

of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr.

Darcy.

But I can assure you, she added, "that Lizzy does not lose

much by not suiting HIS fancy; for he is a most disagreeable,

horrid man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited

that there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked

there, fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to

dance with! I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given

him one of your set-downs. I quite detest the man."

Chapter 4

When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been

cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her

sister just how very much she admired him.

He is just what a young man ought to be, said she, "sensible,

good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!—so

much ease, with such perfect good breeding!"

He is also handsome, replied Elizabeth, "which a young man

ought likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby

complete."

"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second

time. I did not expect such a compliment."

"Did not you? I did for you. But that is one great difference

between us. Compliments always take YOU by surprise, and

ME never. What could be more natural than his asking you

again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times

as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his

gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I

give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider

person."

Dear Lizzy!

"Oh! you are a great deal too apt, you know, to like people in

general. You never see a fault in anybody. All the world are

good and agreeable in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of

a human being in your life."

"I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always

speak what I think."

"I know you do; and it is THAT which makes the wonder. With YOUR

good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense

of others! Affectation of candour is common enough—one meets

with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or

design—to take the good of everybody's character and make it

still better, and say nothing of the bad—belongs to you alone.

And so you like this man's sisters, too, do you? Their manners

are not equal to his."

"Certainly not—at first. But they are very pleasing women when

you converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her

brother, and keep his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall

not find a very charming neighbour in her."

Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their

behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in

general; and with more quickness of observation and less pliancy

of temper than her sister, and with a judgement too unassailed by

any attention to herself, she was very little disposed to approve

them. They were in fact very fine ladies; not deficient in good

humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of making

themselves agreeable when they chose it, but proud and

conceited. They were rather handsome, had been educated in

one of the first private seminaries in town, had a fortune of

twenty thousand pounds, were in the habit of spending more

than they ought, and of associating with people of rank, and

were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of

themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable

family in the north of England; a circumstance more deeply

impressed on their memories than that their brother's fortune

and their own had been acquired by trade.

Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a

hundred thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to

purchase an estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley

intended it likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county;

but as he was now provided with a good house and the liberty of

a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best knew the

easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the

remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next

generation to purchase.

His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but,

though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley

was by no means unwilling to preside at his table—nor was Mrs.

Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune, less

disposed to consider his house as her home when it suited her.

Mr. Bingley had not been of age two years, when he was tempted

by an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield House.

He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour—was pleased with

the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied with what the

owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in

spite of great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to

Darcy by the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper,

though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own,

and though with his own he never appeared dissatisfied. On the

strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley had the firmest reliance, and

of his judgement the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy

was the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient, but Darcy

was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and

fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting.

In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was

sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually

giving offense.

The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was

sufficiently characteristic. Bingley had never met with more

pleasant people or prettier girls in his life; everybody had been

most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no

stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as

to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful.

Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom

there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had

felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention

or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she

smiled too much.

Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so—but still they

admired her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet

girl, and one whom they would not object to know more of.

Miss Bennet was therefore established as a sweet girl, and their

brother felt authorized by such commendation to think of her as

he chose.

Chapter 5

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom

the Bennets were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas

had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a

tolerable fortune, and risen to the honour of knighthood by an

address to the king during his mayoralty. The distinction had

perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust

to his business, and to his residence in a small market town;

and, in quitting them both, he had removed with his family

to a house about a mile from Meryton, denominated from that

period Lucas Lodge, where he could think with pleasure of his

own importance, and, unshackled by business, occupy himself

solely in being civil to all the world. For, though elated by his

rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the