Chapter 39 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to weigh one small word in Elizabeth’s private answer to the Brighton scheme. Lydia wants papa to take them all to Brighton, where the regiment is to be “encamped”; it “would hardly cost anything at all”, she says, just after asking her sisters to pay for lunch. Elizabeth thinks: “_that_ would be a delightful scheme, indeed, and completely do for us at once. Good Heaven! Brighton and a whole campful of soldiers, to us, who have been overset already by one poor regiment of militia, and the monthly balls of Meryton!” Here “overset” means upset or thrown off balance, a “regiment of militia” is a body of part-time soldiers, and “completely do for us” means ruin us. The scheme is Lydia’s, yet Elizabeth thinks of the danger as falling on “us”. The student decides why she counts herself in. The card does not say that Lydia goes to Brighton; here it is only a scheme her father has not yet granted. Nor does it run ahead to what Brighton might bring.

One reading

The family, whose name is shared. What one Bennet girl does is said of all of them, and Elizabeth knows it. The same worry decides the walk to Meryton that afternoon: it “should not be said” that the Miss Bennets chase officers. On this reading “us” is the family’s good name, and Elizabeth is in it whether she likes it or not.

• to us, who have been overset already by one poor regiment of militia
• It should not be said, that the Miss Bennets could not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers.

Another reading

Herself as well. One regiment has unsettled Elizabeth too: she dreads meeting one of its officers, and a few minutes later she finds that a feeling she once held is close to Lydia’s. On this reading “us” is honest, if only half aware: she cannot set herself apart from the sisters she fears for.

• She dreaded seeing Wickham again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible.
• the coarseness of the sentiment was little other than her own breast had formerly harboured

Listen for

• Notices that the scheme is Lydia’s but the fear is put as “us”.
• Hears the irony of “a delightful scheme, indeed”, and notices that it is thought, not said.
• Links “us” to the Miss Bennets whose name Elizabeth guards that afternoon, or to her own dread of Wickham.
• Does not say that Lydia goes to Brighton, or what Brighton would bring.

If stuck

• Whose idea is the trip to Brighton?
• What does Elizabeth fear it would do to the family?
• When someone in your family does something foolish, why might you feel it as yours too?

A strong answer A strong response notices that the scheme is Lydia’s but the danger, in Elizabeth’s mind, is “to us”. One reader hears the family’s shared name: what one Miss Bennet does is said of all, the same worry that makes her oppose the walk to Meryton. Another hears Elizabeth herself: the regiment has unsettled her too, she dreads meeting Wickham, and a few lines later she finds Lydia’s sentiment in her own past. The best answers let the small word carry both, and notice that the whole thought stays in her head, which matters for the last written question.

What it asks It asks the student to take Lydia’s laugh seriously. When Lydia promises news “about a certain person that we all like”, “Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, and the waiter was told that he need not stay.” Lydia mocks them: “Ay, that is just like your formality and discretion. You thought the waiter must not hear, as if he cared! I dare say he often hears worse things said than I am going to say. But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad he is gone. I never saw such a long chin in my life.” Here “formality” means stiff, proper manners and “discretion” means care about what is said and who hears it. The student decides whom the sisters’ care protects: the waiter, the people Lydia is about to talk about, or Jane and Elizabeth themselves.

One reading

Themselves, mostly, and Lydia has a point. The waiter does not care, and the news is only gossip about an officer and a girl gone to Liverpool. Sending him out is about how the elder sisters wish to look. On this reading Lydia is crude but honest: she would tell her news in anyone’s hearing, while her sisters manage who hears.

• You thought the waiter must not hear, as if he cared!
• I dare say he often hears worse things said than I am going to say.

Another reading

The people being talked about, and Lydia proves it at once. Her next words are about the waiter’s chin, and soon after she calls Mary King “such a nasty little freckled thing”. Discretion keeps other people’s names, and faces, out of a stranger’s hearing. On this reading the sisters were right before she began, and her laugh only shows she cannot see why.

• But he is an ugly fellow! I am glad he is gone.
• Who could about such a nasty little freckled thing?

Listen for

• Gives Lydia’s view a fair hearing, whether or not the student ends by agreeing.
• Notices that the sisters decide with a look and say nothing.
• Notices that Lydia’s next remark is about the waiter’s looks, and that she calls the news “too good for the waiter”.
• Links discretion to the chapter’s question of what should be kept quiet.

If stuck

• What does Lydia say the waiter has probably heard before?
• What does she say about him as soon as he is gone?
• Is lowering your voice a kindness to someone, or only good manners?

A strong answer A strong response weighs Lydia’s laugh instead of brushing it aside. One reader finds she has a point: the waiter does not care, and the elder sisters’ care is partly about how they look. Another finds she proves the opposite at once, mocking the waiter’s chin and then Mary King’s freckles, so that discretion turns out to protect the people talked about. The best answers notice that Jane and Elizabeth decide with a look and say nothing, and ask whether discretion is a kindness or only a manner, which is the ground of the last written question.

What it asks It asks the student to hear Elizabeth’s one quick line at the table. Lydia’s news: “There is no danger of Wickham’s marrying Mary King--there’s for you! She is gone down to her uncle at Liverpool; gone to stay. Wickham is safe.” Elizabeth answers, “And Mary King is safe!” and adds, “safe from a connection imprudent as to fortune.” Lydia replies, “She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him,” and Jane hopes “there is no strong attachment on either side.” Here a “connection” means a marriage tie, and “imprudent as to fortune” means unwise in point of money. The student decides what Elizabeth’s line does, and whether anyone at the table hears all of it. The card does not say that Elizabeth tells anyone what she knows of Wickham; her words name only money. Nor does it say that Wickham never cared for Mary King; only Lydia says so.

One reading

Standing up for her. Lydia speaks of Mary King as a threat removed, then as “a great fool”, then as freckled. Elizabeth is the only one who turns the word “safe” toward the girl herself. On this reading the line is a small kindness, said aloud in a room that has no other for her.

• “And Mary King is safe!” added Elizabeth
• She is a great fool for going away, if she liked him.

Another reading

A shot at Wickham, in words Lydia cannot read. To be “safe from” a man is to call him a danger, and the reason given, money, is the one reason that sounds polite. On this reading Elizabeth also passes a hard judgment aloud, only in finer words, and the narrator’s next lines, on her being “incapable of such coarseness of _expression_”, fit this very line.

• safe from a connection imprudent as to fortune.
• however incapable of such coarseness of expression herself

Listen for

• Notices how Elizabeth turns Lydia’s own word, “safe”, around.
• Asks whether Lydia, Jane or the reader can hear what lies under the phrase about fortune.
• Sets Elizabeth’s polished line beside Lydia’s blunt one a moment later.
• Does not say that Elizabeth tells anyone what she knows of Wickham, or that he never cared for Mary King.

If stuck

• Whom does Lydia mean is safe? Whom does Elizabeth mean?
• What does it mean to call someone safe from a person?
• Can a polite sentence carry a harsh judgment?

A strong answer A strong response listens to how Elizabeth turns Lydia’s “safe” around. One reader hears her stand up for the absent girl, the only one at the table to think of Mary King’s side. Another hears a judgment of Wickham put so politely that Lydia cannot catch it, since to be safe from a man is to call him a danger. The best answers see that both can be true, and that this is the one place at the inn where Elizabeth says a judgment aloud. They notice that the narrator credits her with finer “expression” a few lines later, and carry that into the last written question.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh a judgment that is spoken aloud and reaches no one. Lydia tells Mary of the coach, the “nicest cold luncheon in the world”, and laughter so loud “that anybody might have heard us ten miles off!” Mary replies, “very gravely”: “Far be it from me, my dear sister, to depreciate such pleasures. They would doubtless be congenial with the generality of female minds. But I confess they would have no charms for _me_. I should infinitely prefer a book.” The narrator adds: “But of this answer Lydia heard not a word. She seldom listened to anybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all.” Here “depreciate” means belittle, “congenial” means pleasing or well suited, and “the generality of female minds” means most women’s minds. The student decides what Mary’s answer is for, when the sister it answers never hears it.

One reading

For Mary herself. Her answer ends on “_me_” and “a book”: it is about her own taste as much as Lydia’s fun, and it sets her above “the generality of female minds”. On this reading it hardly matters to Mary whether Lydia hears. The speech is a show of who she is, said aloud but not really to anyone.

• But I confess they would have no charms for me. I should infinitely prefer a book.
• They would doubtless be congenial with the generality of female minds.

Another reading

For Lydia, and it fails. Mary begins “my dear sister” and answers Lydia’s fun with a lesson. She is trying to correct her, but Lydia “never attended to Mary at all”. On this reading a judgment spoken to someone who never listens does no more than one kept quiet, and the dinner shows that in this family speaking is common and being heard is rare.

• Far be it from me, my dear sister, to depreciate such pleasures.
• She seldom listened to anybody for more than half a minute, and never attended to Mary at all.

Listen for

• Treats Mary’s reply as more than a joke, and notices whom it is about.
• Notices that Lydia hears “not a word”, and that the narrator says she “never attended to Mary at all”.
• Weighs Mary’s polite form against what it says about “female minds”.
• Asks whether a judgment spoken and unheard is any different from one kept quiet.

If stuck

• What does Mary say she would rather have than Lydia’s fun?
• Does Lydia hear her? How do we know?
• If you say something and no one hears it, have you still said it?

A strong answer A strong response asks whom Mary is speaking for. One reader finds her speaking for herself: the answer ends on “_me_” and “a book”, and sets her above “the generality of female minds”, so it hardly matters whether Lydia hears. Another finds a real attempt to correct her sister, “my dear sister”, which fails because Lydia “never attended to Mary at all”. The best answers notice that this is a judgment said aloud that reaches no one, and ask whether that makes it any different from one kept quiet, which the last written question asks in full.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh Elizabeth’s two reasons for staying home. “In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk to Meryton, and see how everybody went on; but Elizabeth steadily opposed the scheme. It should not be said, that the Miss Bennets could not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers. There was another reason, too, for her opposition. She dreaded seeing Wickham again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible. The comfort to _her_, of the regiment’s approaching removal, was indeed beyond expression.” Here “urgent” means pressing hard, “in pursuit of” means chasing, and “dreaded” means feared. The first reason is one she can argue in front of her sisters; the second the narrator gives only to us. The student decides which reason really carries her. The card does not say that Elizabeth tells anyone what she knows of Wickham; she only resolves to avoid him.

One reading

The first. It is the reason she argues “steadily”, and it is the fear she has had all day: the family’s name, the “us” of her Brighton thought. She would oppose the walk even if Wickham had already gone. On this reading the second reason only adds weight to a mind already made up.

• It should not be said, that the Miss Bennets could not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers.
• Elizabeth steadily opposed the scheme

Another reading

The second. The narrator calls her comfort at the regiment’s going “beyond expression”, and the phrase is a clue: this is the reason she does not express. The first reason is true but convenient, the one she can say aloud. On this reading she does here, in a small way, what the chapter has been weighing: she speaks the respectable reason and keeps the personal one quiet.

• She dreaded seeing Wickham again, and was resolved to avoid it as long as possible.
• The comfort to her, of the regiment’s approaching removal, was indeed beyond expression.

Listen for

• Notices which reason can be argued to her sisters and which is given only to the reader.
• Hears “beyond expression” and links it to the chapter’s talk of “expression”.
• Asks whether giving only the respectable reason is honest.
• Does not say that Elizabeth tells anyone what she knows of Wickham.

If stuck

• What would people say if the Miss Bennets went to Meryton on their first afternoon home?
• Whom does Elizabeth not want to see?
• If you have two reasons for something, do you owe anyone both?

A strong answer A strong response separates the reason Elizabeth can argue from the one she keeps. One reader finds the family’s name decisive: it is what she argues “steadily” and what she has feared since the inn. Another finds the dread of Wickham decisive, and hears in “beyond expression” the mark of a feeling she does not speak. The best answers notice that she offers the respectable reason and holds back the personal one, and ask whether that is tact or a quiet dodge. They do not say she tells anyone about Wickham.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh the chapter’s last sentence: “Elizabeth saw directly that her father had not the smallest intention of yielding; but his answers were at the same time so vague and equivocal, that her mother, though often disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last.” Here “yielding” means giving in, “equivocal” means open to being taken two ways, and “disheartened” means losing heart. The one line the chapter gives Mr. Bennet comes earlier, at dinner, said “more than once” and “voluntarily”, that is, unasked: “I am glad you are come back, Lizzy.” The student decides why a man so sure of his answer will not say it plainly, and what that costs. The card does not say that Lydia goes to Brighton; here it is only a scheme her father has not yet granted.

One reading

A plain no would cost him his peace. Mrs. Bennet would not take it quietly, and he can refuse simply by never saying yes. He is a man of few words: his one line in the chapter is a short, warm welcome to the daughter he can talk to. On this reading the vagueness is harmless, since Elizabeth can see that his answer is fixed.

• her father had not the smallest intention of yielding
• “I am glad you are come back, Lizzy.”

Another reading

A plain no would cost him little, and the vagueness costs more. The scheme stays “under frequent discussion”, and his wife never quite despairs. The chapter ends on her hope, not on his refusal. On this reading he keeps his real answer to himself for his own ease, and leaves alive a danger that Elizabeth fears.

• was under frequent discussion between her parents
• her mother, though often disheartened, had never yet despaired of succeeding at last.

Listen for

• Notices that Elizabeth sees his mind “directly” while her mother does not.
• Weighs the comfort of avoiding a quarrel against the cost of keeping the scheme alive.
• Sets the vague answers beside his plain, repeated welcome to Elizabeth.
• Does not say that Lydia goes to Brighton.

If stuck

• What does Elizabeth see about her father’s mind?
• Why does her mother keep hoping?
• Is it kind to let someone keep hoping for a thing you will never give?

A strong answer A strong response asks what a plain no would cost and what the vague answers cost instead. One reader finds the vagueness the peace-keeping habit of a quiet man, harmless because his mind is made up. Another finds it costly: the scheme stays “under frequent discussion”, and the chapter ends on Mrs. Bennet’s hope. The best answers set his warm, plain welcome to Elizabeth beside his evasions with his wife, and see that here too a judgment is kept unspoken. They do not say what becomes of the Brighton scheme.

What it asks It asks the student to weigh a silence in the narration. At the inn Lydia announces, “And we mean to treat you all,” and adds at once, “but you must lend us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there.” After the meal the narrator records only that “the elder ones paid”, in half a sentence about ordering the carriage. At dinner Lydia tells Mary that “when we got to the George, I do think we behaved very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold luncheon in the world”. Here “to treat” means to pay for someone else’s meal, and “behaved very handsomely” means acted generously. The narrator sets the two facts apart and never joins them, though she does comment elsewhere, as when Lydia “seldom listened to anybody for more than half a minute”. The student builds a thesis on what Austen gains by saying nothing about the lunch, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card does not say that Lydia goes to Brighton, or anything she does later with Wickham or the officers.

One reading

The silence is the sharper judgment. Austen gives the payment once, flatly, and lets Lydia’s boast run into it hours later. A comment would tell us what to think; the gap makes us catch Lydia ourselves, and a judgment we reach on our own sticks. On this reading Austen keeps her own unkind thought quiet, and it lands harder for that.

• As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid
• for we treated the other three with the nicest cold luncheon in the world

Another reading

The silence is fair to Lydia. She hid nothing: she asked for the loan out loud, at the table, before anyone ate. In her mind the treat was the plan and the fun, and the money was a detail. A comment would turn a careless girl into a liar. On this reading Austen lets Lydia be judged only by her own words, and those are enough.

• “And we mean to treat you all,” added Lydia; “but you must lend us the money
• I do think we behaved very handsomely

Listen for

• Finds both ends of the story: the loan asked for at the inn and the boast at dinner.
• Notices that the payment is given in half a sentence, with no comment, while the narrator does comment on Lydia’s listening.
• Weighs whether Lydia is lying, or simply does not count the money as part of the treat.
• Links Austen’s silence to the chapter’s question of judgments kept quiet, and does not run ahead to Brighton.

If stuck

• Who pays for the lunch at the inn?
• What does Lydia tell Mary about it at dinner?
• When someone tells a story that flatters them, is it better to correct them or let the facts speak?

A strong answer A strong response might argue that Austen’s silence is the sharper judgment: she gives “the elder ones paid” once, inside a sentence about the carriage, and lets Lydia’s boast that “we treated the other three” run into it at dinner, so the reader catches Lydia without being told to. The strongest objection is that Lydia hid nothing: she asked for the loan aloud at the inn, and in her mind the treat was the plan, not the bill, so a comment would make a careless girl into a liar. A revised thesis might hold that the silence lets the facts judge Lydia’s carelessness without charging her with more than she did, and that it leaves the reader holding a judgment no one says aloud, as Elizabeth does all afternoon. The best answers notice that Lydia thinks she behaved “handsomely”, that is, generously, much as Elizabeth once fancied her own feeling “liberal”: each sister flattered herself. Which is worse, the unkind thought kept quiet or the thought spoken, is the last written question.

What it asks It asks the whole question of the chapter. Lydia speaks every judgment aloud: her bonnet is not “very pretty”, the waiter is “an ugly fellow”, Jane “will be quite an old maid soon”, and Mary King is “such a nasty little freckled thing”. Hearing the last, Elizabeth “was shocked to think that, however incapable of such coarseness of _expression_ herself, the coarseness of the _sentiment_ was little other than her own breast had formerly harboured and fancied liberal!” Elizabeth’s own judgments in the chapter are mostly kept inside: her thought on Brighton, her listening “as little as she could”, her dread of Wickham. The one she speaks at the inn is polite: Mary King is “safe from a connection imprudent as to fortune.” Here “expression” means the way a thing is said, “sentiment” means the feeling behind it, and “harboured” means held. The student builds a thesis on which is worse, the unkind thought kept quiet or the same thought said aloud, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say that Lydia goes to Brighton, anything Lydia does later with Wickham or the officers, that Wickham never cared for Mary King, or that Elizabeth tells anyone what she knows of Wickham.

One reading

The thought spoken is worse. Words reach people. Lydia laughs at Jane’s age to Jane’s face, and puts an absent girl’s freckles before the whole table. A thought kept quiet harms no one, and Elizabeth’s quiet lets her catch her old opinion, judge it and leave it behind. On this reading discretion is not a mere manner but a real check on harm.

• Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare.
• Who could about such a nasty little freckled thing?

Another reading

The thought kept quiet is worse, or at least no better. The narrator says the “sentiment” was the same, and the sentiment is what was coarse. Elizabeth kept hers so quiet that she could call it “liberal” and never test it; Lydia’s, said aloud, is at least out where it can be seen. On this reading fine expression can hide a coarse judgment, even from the one who holds it.

• however incapable of such coarseness of expression herself
• her own breast had formerly harboured and fancied liberal!

Listen for

• Keeps the italics’ line between “expression” and “sentiment”.
• Uses Elizabeth’s own conduct in the chapter as evidence (her private thoughts, her polite line about Mary King, the reason she keeps), not only Lydia’s.
• Weighs harm to others against harm to the one who holds the thought.
• Does not run ahead to Brighton or to what Lydia does later, and does not treat Elizabeth as simply better than Lydia.

If stuck

• Who hears Lydia’s remark about Mary King, and whom could it hurt?
• What did keeping her old opinion quiet let Elizabeth believe about it?
• Can a thought do harm if no one ever hears it?

A strong answer A strong response might argue that the spoken thought is worse, because words reach people: Lydia mocks Jane’s age to her face and an absent girl’s freckles before the whole table, while a thought kept quiet harms no one and can be caught and corrected, as Elizabeth’s is. The strongest objection is the narrator’s own distinction: the “sentiment” was the same, and the sentiment is what was coarse, and Elizabeth kept hers so quietly that she could fancy it “liberal” and never test it. A revised thesis might hold that speaking does the greater harm to others, while silence can do the greater harm to the one who keeps it, and that Elizabeth’s shock is the moment her silence breaks. Key evidence to consider includes the italics on “_expression_” and “_sentiment_”, her polite line about Mary King’s escape, and the reason for staying home that she keeps to herself.