Chapter 38 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to follow Mr. Collins’s parting speech to its end. He begins with an apology: “We know how little there is to tempt anyone to our humble abode. Our plain manner of living, our small rooms, and few domestics, and the little we see of the world, must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like yourself”. He turns to Rosings: “Our situation with regard to Lady Catherine’s family is, indeed, the sort of extraordinary advantage and blessing which few can boast.” And he ends: “I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion, while they are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings.” Here “abode” means home, “domestics” means servants, “abiding” means living, “an object of compassion” means someone to be pitied, and “intimacy” means close friendship. A few paragraphs later the narrator uses the same word of Charlotte: she “did not seem to ask for compassion.” The student decides why Mr. Collins answers a pity that no one has spoken. The card does not say that Mr. Collins knows anything of Darcy’s proposal; he hints only at Charlotte’s good fortune.

One reading

He feels the doubt he denies. He has just listed the small rooms, the few servants and the dullness, and he can guess how the house looks to a visitor from home. To raise pity in order to rule it out is to answer it before anyone can say it. On this reading the boast is a defence, and his speech is closer to Elizabeth’s “Poor Charlotte!” than he would like.

• must make Hunsford extremely dull to a young lady like yourself
• I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion

Another reading

He feels no doubt at all. The humble house is in his speech only to set off Rosings: the plainer the parsonage, the brighter the “extraordinary advantage and blessing”. Pity comes up as the last step of the boast, not as a fear, and he is so moved that he has to walk about the room. On this reading he means every word, and it is the only account of the marriage from inside it.

• the sort of extraordinary advantage and blessing which few can boast
• Words were insufficient for the elevation of his feelings

Listen for

• Notices that the speech moves from apology to boast, and that he rests the claim against pity on Rosings, not on his house or his marriage.
• Hears “compassion” come back when the narrator says Charlotte “did not seem to ask for compassion.”
• Takes Mr. Collins seriously as the one account of the marriage from inside it, and does not stop at laughing at him.
• Does not say that Mr. Collins knows anything of Darcy’s proposal.

If stuck

• What does Mr. Collins apologise for at the start of his speech?
• What does he say makes up for all of it?
• Why might someone deny a thing that no one has said?

A strong answer A strong response follows the speech from apology to boast and asks what “compassion” is doing at its end. One reader hears a defence: he has just named the small rooms and the dullness, and he raises pity in order to rule it out before a visitor can feel it. Another hears plain satisfaction: the humble house is there only to set off Rosings, and he is so moved that he must walk about the room. The best answers notice that he rests the claim on “our intimacy at Rosings”, not on the marriage itself. They also notice that the narrator picks up the same word for Charlotte a few paragraphs later, and they keep both voices in mind for the last written question.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh Elizabeth’s answers at breakfast. While Mr. Collins walks about the room, “Elizabeth tried to unite civility and truth in a few short sentences.” When he says, “My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking,” the narrator gives her reply: “Elizabeth could safely say that it was a great happiness where that was the case, and with equal sincerity could add, that she firmly believed and rejoiced in his domestic comforts.” At the carriage, when he makes up her message of thanks for Rosings, “Elizabeth made no objection”. Here “civility” means politeness, “sincerity” means honesty of feeling, and “domestic comforts” means the comforts of his home. The student decides what her answer keeps her safe from, and so whether an answer chosen because it is safe can also be honest.

One reading

Safe from saying anything false. Every word she says is true. It is a great happiness when two people are of one mind, and she never says that these two are. She does believe in his comforts, which are his, not Charlotte’s. On this reading “safely” means she can answer without a lie, she has done just what she set out to do, uniting “civility and truth”, and her care is a form of honesty.

• it was a great happiness where that was the case
• tried to unite civility and truth in a few short sentences

Another reading

Safe from him. The word “safely” is about risk, not truth: the answer keeps her clear of a quarrel and of saying what she thinks of the marriage. She knows he will hear agreement where she has given none, and she lets him. The phrase “with equal sincerity” may be the narrator’s joke: the second answer is as sincere as the first, which is to say, carefully. On this reading she hides her view of the marriage at breakfast, and it is the first of the chapter’s concealments.

• Elizabeth could safely say
• with equal sincerity could add

Listen for

• Notices the hedge “where that was the case”: she praises one mind in marriage without saying the Collinses share it.
• Notices whose comforts she rejoices in: his.
• Hears “safely” and “equal sincerity” as the narrator’s words about her, not her own.
• Connects the breakfast to her private words in the carriage, “And how much I shall have to conceal!”

If stuck

• What could go wrong for Elizabeth if she answered him another way?
• Does Elizabeth ever say that they are of one mind?
• Can you say only true things and still leave someone believing something false?

A strong answer A strong response reads her reply word by word and asks what “safely” guards against. One reader finds she is safe from a lie: everything she says is true, the hedge “where that was the case” keeps her from agreeing, and she does believe in his comforts. Another finds she is safe from him: “safely” is a word about risk, and she lets him hear a blessing she has not given. The best answers see this as Elizabeth’s own small concealment, made at breakfast before she says to herself, “And how much I shall have to conceal!”, and ask whether her care is a kindness to Mr. Collins or a way out.

What it asks It asks the student to set Mr. Collins’s account of his marriage beside Charlotte’s silence. He opens his speech by promising her thanks for her: “I am very certain you will not leave the house without receiving her thanks for it.” Later he says: “My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking. There is in everything a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between us. We seem to have been designed for each other.” Charlotte comes in just after, “the lady from whom they sprang”, the source of his comforts. She has no line of speech anywhere in the chapter. What we learn of her comes from the narrator: “though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion.” Here “resemblance” means likeness, “evidently” means plainly, and “compassion” means pity. The student decides whether her silence supports his claim or undercuts it. The card does not say what Charlotte privately feels about her marriage; the chapter shows only that she does not “seem to ask for compassion.”

One reading

Easier to believe. She does not contradict him, she does not complain, and she does not ask for pity. Her days are full of her home and her parish. A wife at odds with her husband would show some sign of it, and the chapter gives none. On this reading her silence is the quiet of someone who has what she chose.

• she did not seem to ask for compassion
• Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.

Another reading

Harder to believe. He speaks for her twice, first her thanks and then her mind, and both times she is not in the room to answer. The phrase “one mind” is his claim about her, and the narrator’s word for her is only “seem”. The one thing she plainly feels, regret that her visitors are going, is nowhere in his account. On this reading her silence is the gap in his story.

• My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking.
• though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go

Listen for

• Notices that Charlotte has no speech of her own in the chapter.
• Notices that both times he speaks for her, she is out of the room, and that the chapter never gives her thanks in her own words.
• Weighs “evidently” (her regret at losing her visitors) against “seem” (her not asking for pity).
• Does not decide what Charlotte privately feels about her marriage.

If stuck

• How does the narrator say the two friends part?
• What does the narrator say Charlotte plainly feels when she comes in?
• If someone never speaks for herself, how can you tell whether another person speaks for her truly?

A strong answer A strong response treats Charlotte’s silence as evidence and asks what it is evidence of. One reader finds it supports him: she neither complains nor asks for pity, and her days are full of home and parish. Another finds it undercuts him: he speaks for her twice while she is out of the room, and the one thing she “evidently” feels, regret at her friends’ going, is missing from his account. The best answers keep the narrator’s “seem” in view and decline to say what Charlotte feels in private, which the last written question needs as well.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh one word in the narrator’s last sentence about Charlotte: “Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.” Here “dependent concerns” means everything that goes with them, and “charms” means the power to please. The list moves in pairs, each joined by “and”, and each pair alliterates. Without “yet” the sentence says only that her life pleases her. With it, the sentence has a clock in it. The same words come back near the end of the chapter, for the vanity Elizabeth has “not yet been able to reason away.” The student decides what “yet” adds, and whose expectation it carries. The card does not say what Charlotte privately feels about her marriage.

One reading

A warning. The word “yet” points to a day when the charms will be gone. The sentence follows “Poor Charlotte!” and “melancholy”, and it reads like Elizabeth’s forecast: content for now, while the newness lasts. On this reading the word quietly takes Elizabeth’s side, and the pity is only waiting for its day.

• Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to leave her to such society!
• had not yet lost their charms

Another reading

A plain fact, fairly told. Charlotte’s life pleases her, and the chapter never says it will stop. The word “yet” tells us more about the one watching than about Charlotte: the doubt is Elizabeth’s, and the narrator sets it beside what Charlotte actually shows. On this reading the word marks Elizabeth’s expectation, not Charlotte’s fate.

• But she had chosen it with her eyes open
• she did not seem to ask for compassion

Listen for

• Reads the sentence with and without “yet” and says what changes.
• Hears the paired, alliterating list and asks whether its sound is fond or amused.
• Asks whose expectation “yet” carries, the narrator’s or Elizabeth’s.
• Does not decide that Charlotte is miserable, or that she is content; the sentence leaves both open.

If stuck

• What four things does the sentence list?
• Read it again without “yet.” Does it say something different?
• When you say something has not lost its charm yet, what are you expecting?

A strong answer A strong response reads the sentence both ways and listens to what “yet” adds. One reader hears a warning: the word looks to a day when the charms will be gone, and it comes right after “Poor Charlotte!” Another hears Elizabeth’s doubt rather than Charlotte’s fate: the life pleases her now, and nothing in the chapter says it will stop. The best answers notice that “not yet” returns for Elizabeth’s own vanity, and ask whether the narrator is as sure about Charlotte as Elizabeth is. That is where the last written question begins.

What it asks It asks the student to judge Elizabeth’s silence in London. “Jane looked well, and Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her spirits”. Then: “To know that she had the power of revealing what would so exceedingly astonish Jane, and must, at the same time, so highly gratify whatever of her own vanity she had not yet been able to reason away, was such a temptation to openness as nothing could have conquered, but the state of indecision in which she remained as to the extent of what she should communicate, and her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried into repeating something of Bingley, which might only grieve her sister further.” Here “spirits” means mood, “gratify” means please, “vanity” means pride in oneself, “openness” means telling freely, and “indecision” means not having made up one’s mind. The student decides whether holding back protects Jane or takes a choice out of Jane’s hands. The card does not say what Elizabeth will tell Jane, or when; she is still undecided. Nor does it say how Jane’s spirits really are; Elizabeth has “little opportunity of studying” them.

One reading

Sparing her. The one danger Elizabeth names is Bingley: once she starts, she may say more than Jane can hear without pain. Her vanity pulls her toward telling, and she holds out for her sister’s sake. On this reading the silence is love doing the harder thing.

• her fear, if she once entered on the subject, of being hurried into repeating something of Bingley, which might only grieve her sister further
• so highly gratify whatever of her own vanity

Another reading

Deciding for her. Elizabeth has hardly had a chance to study Jane’s spirits, yet she is sure enough that the subject “might only grieve” her to keep it back. It is the same kind of judgment she makes of Charlotte: a verdict, from outside, on what another woman can bear. On this reading the silence is kind but not humble, and Jane is never asked.

• Elizabeth had little opportunity of studying her spirits
• which might only grieve her sister further

Listen for

• Notices that what holds her back is indecision and fear, not a decision to keep the secret.
• Weighs her vanity, which pulls toward telling, against her fear for Jane.
• Notices that she has had “little opportunity of studying” Jane’s spirits.
• Does not say what Elizabeth will tell Jane, or when, or how Jane’s spirits really are.

If stuck

• What would Elizabeth enjoy about telling Jane?
• What two things stop her?
• Is it kind to decide what someone else can bear to hear?

A strong answer A strong response separates the pull from the brake. The pull is plain: astonishing Jane would please the vanity Elizabeth has “not yet been able to reason away”. One reader finds the brake loving: she fears being “hurried into repeating something of Bingley” and holds back for her sister’s sake. Another finds it a quiet judgment made for Jane: Elizabeth has had “little opportunity of studying her spirits”, yet is sure enough that it “might only grieve” her to keep it back. The best answers set this beside her pity for Charlotte, another verdict on how a woman is bearing her life, and do not say what Elizabeth will tell, or when.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh three accounts of Hunsford. Mr. Collins gives his at breakfast: “You may, in fact, carry a very favourable report of us into Hertfordshire, my dear cousin.” He calls the tie to Rosings “the sort of extraordinary advantage and blessing which few can boast”, and his marriage one of “one mind and one way of thinking”. In the carriage Maria gives hers: “We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! How much I shall have to tell!” Elizabeth gives hers only to herself: “And how much I shall have to conceal!” Between these, the narrator gives Charlotte’s side: “But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion.” Here “favourable report” means a good account, “conceal” means keep hidden, and “compassion” means pity. The student builds a thesis on which account comes nearest the truth of the visit, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card does not say that Mr. Collins knows anything of Darcy’s proposal; he hints only at Charlotte’s good fortune.

One reading

Elizabeth’s, the one she keeps. Mr. Collins’s report is true of the honour of Rosings, and Maria’s of the dinners. Elizabeth alone knows what the six weeks held for her: a proposal that no one in the carriage has heard of. On this reading the truest account is the one that cannot be told, which is why she sighs at Maria’s “how many things have happened!”

• And how much I shall have to conceal!
• “A great many indeed,” said her companion, with a sigh.

Another reading

Not Elizabeth’s. Mr. Collins is absurd, but his is the only account of the marriage from inside it, and nothing Charlotte does in the chapter contradicts it. Maria counts what happened, and every number is true. Elizabeth’s one judgment of Hunsford, “Poor Charlotte!”, is the account the narrator answers at once with a “But”. On this reading the one who knows the most is not the one who sees the most clearly.

• I should not think anyone abiding in it an object of compassion
• We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice!
• But she had chosen it with her eyes open

Listen for

• Asks what each account leaves out: Mr. Collins’s leaves out Charlotte’s voice, Maria’s leaves out all but Rosings, and Elizabeth’s is never spoken.
• Takes Mr. Collins’s speech seriously as the only account of the marriage from inside it.
• Asks whether an account that is never told can still be the truest.
• Treats the journey as a chapter about what each person carries away, not as a bridge between places.

If stuck

• What does Mr. Collins want Elizabeth to say about Hunsford at home?
• What does Maria count, and what does Elizabeth sigh at?
• Can someone know the most about a visit and still see part of it wrongly?

A strong answer A strong response might argue that Elizabeth’s account is the truest, because she alone knows what the six weeks held for her, a proposal no one in the carriage has heard of, while Mr. Collins reports the honour of Rosings and Maria counts dinners and teas. The strongest objection is that knowing more is not the same as seeing more truly: her one verdict on Hunsford, “Poor Charlotte!”, is followed at once by the narrator’s “But she had chosen it with her eyes open”, and Mr. Collins, absurd as he is, speaks from inside the marriage while nothing Charlotte does contradicts him. A revised thesis might hold that each account is true about what its teller cares for, and that Elizabeth’s is the fullest but not the most certain. Whether her pity is earned is the last written question.

What it asks It asks the whole question of the chapter. As Charlotte comes in, the narrator gives Elizabeth’s thought: “Poor Charlotte! it was melancholy to leave her to such society! But she had chosen it with her eyes open; and though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and all their dependent concerns, had not yet lost their charms.” Just before, Mr. Collins has said, “My dear Charlotte and I have but one mind and one way of thinking,” and that no one living at Hunsford could be “an object of compassion, while they are sharers of our intimacy at Rosings.” Elizabeth has answered him with care, trying to unite “civility and truth”. Here “melancholy” means sad, and “such society” means such company; the paragraph has just been full of Mr. Collins. “With her eyes open” means knowing what she was choosing, and “compassion” means pity. The student builds a thesis on whether Elizabeth’s pity is right when Charlotte does not ask for it, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say what Charlotte privately feels about her marriage, what Elizabeth will tell Jane or when, that Mr. Collins knows anything of Darcy’s proposal, or how Jane’s spirits really are.

One reading

Yes. Pity does not wait to be asked for. Elizabeth has just sat through a breakfast with the man Charlotte lives with, a man who speaks for her and boasts of one mind with her. Charlotte’s regret at losing her friends is evident, and her pleasures have only “not yet” faded. On this reading Elizabeth sees what her friend gave up, and pity is the honest answer of someone who knows her.

• it was melancholy to leave her to such society!
• though evidently regretting that her visitors were to go
• had not yet lost their charms

Another reading

No. Charlotte chose “with her eyes open”, and she does not ask for compassion; she has a home, a parish and a life that still pleases her. Pity she has not asked for treats her choice as a mistake she has failed to notice. Elizabeth, so careful at breakfast to say nothing false to Mr. Collins, is less careful in judging her friend. On this reading the narrator’s “But” is the correction, and the pity tells us as much about Elizabeth as about Charlotte.

• But she had chosen it with her eyes open
• she did not seem to ask for compassion
• Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry

Listen for

• Keeps the order of the paragraph in view: “Poor Charlotte!” first, then “But”, then the poultry.
• Weighs “evidently” against “seem”: what Charlotte plainly feels, and what she only appears not to ask.
• Uses Mr. Collins’s speech as evidence, not only as comedy.
• Does not say what Charlotte privately feels about her marriage.

If stuck

• What does the narrator say Charlotte chose, and how?
• What does Charlotte plainly feel as her visitors leave?
• Can you pity someone who seems content, and should you?

A strong answer A strong response might argue that Elizabeth is right to pity Charlotte, because pity answers what a friend can see, not what she is asked for. Key evidence includes Mr. Collins claiming “one mind” for his wife while she is out of the room, Charlotte’s evident regret at losing her visitors, and pleasures that have only “not yet” lost their charms. The strongest objection is that Charlotte chose “with her eyes open” and “did not seem to ask for compassion”: pity she has not asked for turns her choice into a mistake she has not noticed, and the narrator answers “Poor Charlotte!” with “But”. A revised thesis might hold that Elizabeth is right to feel for her friend and wrong to be sure of what Charlotte feels, since the chapter shows only what Charlotte does not ask for, not what she would say if asked.