Chapter 41 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to read Kitty’s complaint for what it shows about Brighton. When Mrs. Forster asks Lydia, “the mortification of Kitty” is “scarcely to be described”, and she sits “repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish.” She says, “I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask _me_ as well as Lydia,” though she admits she is not Mrs. Forster’s “particular friend”. Then: “I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older.” Before the invitation came, she had already put in her own claim to Brighton: “And my aunt Philips is sure it would do _me_ a great deal of good.” At the parting, “Kitty was the only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy.” Here “mortification” means wounded pride, “repining” means fretting and complaining, and “particular friend” means close friend. The student decides what Kitty takes an invitation to be. The card does not say what happens to Lydia at Brighton; the chapter ends with her leaving.

One reading

A prize owed by age. Kitty does not claim Mrs. Forster’s friendship; she admits she is not her “particular friend”. She claims a place in line. To her an invitation is a treat to be shared out among sisters, and the elder should come first. On this reading she sees Brighton as a prize, not a kindness from a friend, and her complaint is as “unreasonable” as the narrator says: a schoolroom sense of fair shares.

• I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older.
• though I am not her particular friend

Another reading

The door to what she already wants. Kitty grieved for the regiment as much as Lydia did, and she wanted the sea air before anyone was asked. The talk of a “right” is only the shape her envy takes; what she wants is Brighton and the officers there, and the invitation is the way in. Her tears at the parting come “from vexation and envy”, not from missing her sister. A few paragraphs later Elizabeth warns that Kitty “will follow wherever Lydia leads”, and this complaint is her proof.

• And my aunt Philips is sure it would do me a great deal of good
• Kitty was the only one who shed tears; but she did weep from vexation and envy.

Listen for

• Notices that Kitty admits she is not Mrs. Forster’s “particular friend”, so friendship is not her claim.
• Hears the schoolroom reckoning in “two years older” and asks what kind of thing can be owed by age.
• Links the complaint to Elizabeth’s warning that Kitty “will follow wherever Lydia leads.”
• Takes Kitty’s envy as real, not only comic, and asks what it adds to the noise Mr. Bennet wants to be spared.

If stuck

• Why does Kitty think she should have been asked?
• Does she say Mrs. Forster is her friend?
• Can a person have a right to an invitation?

A strong answer A strong response weighs what Kitty’s words give away. One reader finds a sense of fair shares: Kitty admits she is not Mrs. Forster’s “particular friend” and claims the trip by age, “for I am two years older”, as if an invitation were a prize handed out in turn. Another hears envy borrowing the language of rights: she wanted Brighton before anyone was asked, and at the parting she weeps “from vexation and envy”. The best answers notice that, either way, the invitation has nothing to do with Mrs. Forster, that Kitty bears out Elizabeth’s warning that she “will follow wherever Lydia leads”, and that her complaint is part of the noise Mr. Bennet weighs in the last written question.

What it asks It asks the student to read Elizabeth’s plea for where it lays the blame. She tells her father that “the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia’s character” will harm the family. She warns, “If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment.” She adds that Kitty “will follow wherever Lydia leads.” Then comes: “Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled!” Here “checking” means holding back, and “amendment” means correction. The student decides where Elizabeth places the fault: in the girls themselves, in their father, or in both.

One reading

The girls’ own. Most of the speech is a portrait of Lydia’s character: her “rage for admiration”, “the ignorance and emptiness of her mind”, a flirt “in the worst and meanest degree”. The danger is that her character “will be fixed”, which is a thing that happens inside Lydia. On this reading Elizabeth asks her father for help against a fault that is Lydia’s, and Kitty is at fault for following.

• the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia’s character
• her rage for admiration will excite

Another reading

Her father’s. The sentence that carries the plea begins with him: “If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble”. The word “uncontrolled” names a control that is missing, and the one who should supply it is listening. On this reading the harsh words about her sisters are a rebuke to her father that Elizabeth cannot quite say outright.

• If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits
• Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled!

Listen for

• Notices that the plea’s central sentence begins “If you, my dear father”.
• Hears what “uncontrolled” assumes: that someone should be doing the controlling.
• Notices that the list comes right after Kitty is named, so it covers both girls.
• Asks whether Mr. Bennet hears a rebuke in it, given how he answers.

If stuck

• What four words does Elizabeth use for Lydia and Kitty?
• What does she ask her father to do?
• When a young girl is “uncontrolled”, who has failed?

A strong answer A strong response follows the blame through the speech. One reader finds it on the girls: the plea is mostly a portrait of Lydia’s “volatility” and “rage for admiration”, and the danger is that her character “will be fixed”. Another finds it on the father: the key sentence starts “If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble”, and “uncontrolled” only makes sense if someone should have controlled her. The best answers notice that Elizabeth asks her father to act, not to agree, and that his answer never takes up the word “trouble”, which matters for the last written question.

What it asks It asks the student to test Mr. Bennet’s joke against the rest of the chapter. Elizabeth says the harm from Lydia’s manner “must arise” and, “nay, which has already arisen from it”. Her father pounces: “Already arisen!” Then, “What! has she frightened away some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy!” He goes on: “Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret.” She answers, “Indeed, you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not of peculiar, but of general evils, which I am now complaining.” Here “lovers” means admirers, “squeamish” means easily disgusted, and “peculiar” means her own. The chapter opened with Elizabeth ashamed of her family’s noise: “She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objections; and never had she before been so much disposed to pardon his interference in the views of his friend.” The student decides whether the father’s guess is as far off as Elizabeth says.

One reading

As wrong as she says. Elizabeth has lost no admirer of her own in this chapter, and she is not pleading for herself. She speaks for the whole family, “Our importance, our respectability”. Her father shrinks a family danger into a tease about one daughter’s romances, and the smaller frame lets him wave it away: such young men “are not worth a regret.” On this reading the joke is a dodge, and Elizabeth is right to refuse it.

• It is not of peculiar, but of general evils, which I am now complaining.
• Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret.

Another reading

Nearer than she admits. It is Elizabeth who says the harm “has already arisen”, and she does not say what it is. The chapter opens with her feeling “the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objections” to her family and ready to pardon his “interference in the views of his friend.” A man of standing has already judged the Bennets by their manners and acted on it. On this reading her father’s guess touches a real harm that Elizabeth cannot name to him, so she answers the joke and not the truth inside it.

• nay, which has already arisen from it
• She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objections

Listen for

• Notices that “already arisen” is Elizabeth’s phrase, and that she never says what harm she means.
• Links the father’s joke to the chapter’s first paragraph.
• Hears “I have no such injuries to resent” as narrow and exact: no harm to herself.
• Asks why Elizabeth cannot give her father her strongest evidence.

If stuck

• What does Mr. Bennet guess the harm has been?
• What does Elizabeth say harm has “already” done, and does she say what?
• Can a joke be wrong about one person and still right about the family?

A strong answer A strong response holds the joke up against both ends of the chapter. One reader finds the father simply wrong: Elizabeth speaks of “general evils”, not her own, and the tease about “squeamish youths” turns a danger into a laugh. Another finds him nearer the mark than she admits: she herself says harm “has already arisen”, and the chapter opens with her granting “the justice of Mr. Darcy’s objections”. The best answers notice that Elizabeth argues without her strongest evidence, because it is not hers to tell, and ask how that weakens her plea before a father who wants a reason to laugh.

What it asks It asks the student to hear the narrator’s voice in Lydia’s daydream. “In Lydia’s imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly happiness. She saw, with the creative eye of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing-place covered with officers. She saw herself the object of attention to tens and to scores of them at present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp: its tents stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and, to complete the view, she saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once.” The narrator then asks, “Had she known that her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and such realities as these, what would have been her sensations?” Here “fancy” means imagination, “gay” means bright and lively, and “scarlet” is the red of the officers’ coats. The student decides whether the narrator mocks Lydia’s joy or shares it, or does both at once. The card does not say what happens to Lydia at Brighton; the chapter ends with her leaving.

One reading

Amusement, with an edge. The language is too grand for its subject: “earthly happiness”, “all the glories of the camp”, “beauteous uniformity of lines”, as if a row of tents were paradise. The last image tips it over: “at least six officers at once.” On this reading Austen asks us to laugh at a girl whose idea of heaven is to be looked at, and the laugh sides with Elizabeth.

• tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once
• She saw all the glories of the camp: its tents stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines

Another reading

Some tenderness, too. This is the only place in the chapter where we see Lydia from inside, and the narrator gives her joy its full music, sentence after sentence. She is very young; Elizabeth says she will be a flirt “at sixteen”. Asking what her “sensations” would have been, had she known of Elizabeth’s plea, invites the reader to feel her side for a moment. On this reading Austen lets us share the joy before we judge it.

• In Lydia’s imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly happiness.
• what would have been her sensations?

Listen for

• Hears the repeated “She saw” and the way the sentences grow.
• Points to particular words that are too grand for their subject.
• Sets “the object of attention to tens and to scores” beside her father’s hope that Brighton will “teach her her own insignificance.”
• Does not say what happens to Lydia at Brighton.

If stuck

• What does Lydia picture at Brighton?
• Which words in the passage sound larger than the thing they describe?
• Can a writer laugh at a character and still feel for her?

A strong answer A strong response listens to the passage before judging Lydia. One reader hears amusement: “earthly happiness”, “all the glories of the camp” and “at least six officers at once” are too grand for a girl’s daydream, and “realities” is ironic. Another hears tenderness: the narrator enters Lydia’s mind with real music and asks what her “sensations” would have been, a very young girl’s joy given its due. The best answers set her dream of being “the object of attention to tens and to scores” of officers beside her father’s hope that Brighton will teach her “her own insignificance”, and ask which picture of Brighton the chapter makes more believable, without claiming to know what happens there.

What it asks It asks the student to set Elizabeth’s two speeches side by side and ask what makes a warning land. To her father she says, “Excuse me,--for I must speak plainly.” She asks him to “take the trouble” of checking Lydia. He hears her “attentively”, tells her, “Do not make yourself uneasy, my love,” and lets Lydia go; she “was forced to be content”. At dinner Wickham asks about Hunsford, and she mentions that Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy “spent three weeks at Rosings”. When he says he dare not hope that Darcy “is improved in essentials”, she answers, “In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was.” Then she adds: “When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that either his mind or manners were in a state of improvement; but that, from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood.” Wickham listens “with an apprehensive and anxious attention”, then “Wickham’s alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look”. For the rest of the evening he makes “no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth”. Here “essentials” means what a person really is, “disposition” means character, and “distinguish” means single out with attention. The student decides why the hint works where the plea did not. The card does not say that Wickham knows what Darcy told her; he only guesses, and is alarmed.

One reading

It depends on the listener. Wickham has something to hide, so a hint finds a fear already in him. He cannot tell how much she knows, and he must guess the worst. Mr. Bennet fears nothing in Lydia’s going except the noise if she stays, so a plain warning finds nothing in him to catch on. On this reading a warning lands only on someone who already has a stake in it.

• There was a something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention
• Wickham’s alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look

Another reading

It depends on what is asked. The hint asks nothing of Wickham except to understand, and he does: he stops the attentions that had provoked her. The plea asks her father to act, to “take the trouble” of checking Lydia, and acting would cost him the peace he wants. He hears her “attentively”, so he understands her too. On this reading the plain words did not fail to be understood; they failed to be obeyed, because understanding is free and acting is not.

• but with no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth
• He heard her attentively

Listen for

• Traces Wickham’s reactions in order: “surprised, displeased, alarmed”, then the flush and the silence.
• Notices that after the hint Wickham makes “no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth”, so it ends the attentions that had provoked her.
• Sees that the plea asked her father to act, while the hint asked Wickham only to understand.
• Does not say that Wickham knows what Darcy told her.

If stuck

• What does Elizabeth say to Wickham about Darcy, and how does Wickham take it?
• What did she want her father to do, and what did she want from Wickham?
• Is it harder to understand a warning, or to act on it?

A strong answer A strong response asks what each speech needed from its listener. One reader looks at the listeners: Wickham has something to hide, so a hint finds a fear already there, and he flushes and falls silent; Mr. Bennet fears nothing here but noise, so a plain warning has nothing to catch on. Another looks at what was asked: the hint asks Wickham only to understand, and he makes “no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth”; the plea asks her father to “take the trouble”, and acting would cost him the peace he wants. The best answers notice that in both talks Elizabeth keeps back what Darcy told her, which weakens her plea at home and sharpens her hint at dinner, and that her restraint lets the evening end “with mutual civility”.

What it asks It asks the student to judge Elizabeth’s calm after her talk with her father. She goes to him knowing that “detestable as such a step must make her, were it known,” she “could not help secretly advising her father not to let her go.” He answers, “Do not make yourself uneasy, my love,” and then, “We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton.” Then: “With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion continued the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty; and to fret over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her disposition.” Here “detestable” means hateful, “vexations” means troubles, “augment” means increase, and “disposition” means temperament. The student builds a thesis on whether Elizabeth’s calm is a strength of her own or the same wish for peace that decides her father, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card does not say what happens to Lydia at Brighton, and it does not judge Elizabeth by later events.

One reading

A strength. Her duty was to warn, and she warns fully and plainly, at the risk of being thought “detestable” if it were known. The decision belongs to her father, and he has heard her “attentively”. Once he has decided, worry would change nothing. Her calm comes after she has taken the risk of speaking; his comes in place of acting. On this reading her refusal to “fret over unavoidable evils” is good sense, and the narrator presents it as part of her nature.

• detestable as such a step must make her, were it known, she could not help secretly advising her father not to let her go
• She was confident of having performed her duty

Another reading

The same wish for peace. Her father tells her, “Do not make yourself uneasy, my love,” and that is just what she does. The words “forced to be content” and “her own opinion continued the same” show a mind unpersuaded, yet she stops after one talk. The word “unavoidable” is strong for an evil her father has just chosen. Not to “increase her vexations by dwelling on them” protects her own peace, much as letting Lydia go protects the peace of Longbourn. On this reading the daughter shares the habit she has just pleaded against.

• With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion continued the same
• Do not make yourself uneasy, my love.

Listen for

• Notices the risk Elizabeth takes in speaking (“detestable as such a step must make her, were it known”).
• Questions the word “unavoidable” for a choice her father has just made.
• Hears her father’s “Do not make yourself uneasy” in her choice not to dwell on her vexations.
• Judges by what the chapter shows, not by anything that happens later in the book.

If stuck

• What did Elizabeth risk by speaking to her father?
• How does she feel when she leaves him, and what does she decide to do with that feeling?
• Is refusing to worry the same as refusing to act?

A strong answer A strong response might argue that Elizabeth’s calm is a strength, because it comes after the hard part: she warns fully, accepts the risk of being thought “detestable”, and leaves the decision with her father. Key evidence includes “She was confident of having performed her duty” and the narrator’s approval of a mind that will not “fret over unavoidable evils”. The strongest objection is that she takes her father’s own advice, “Do not make yourself uneasy”, after a single talk while “her own opinion continued the same”, and that “unavoidable” is a strong word for an evil he has just chosen, so her calm guards her peace much as his decision guards Longbourn’s. A revised thesis might hold that her calm differs from his because it follows speech and not silence, but that calling the outcome unavoidable is a comfort they share, which bears on the last written question.

What it asks It asks the whole question of the chapter. Elizabeth warns that unless her father checks Lydia, “she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment.” Her character, she says, “will be fixed”. Mr. Bennet first answers that Lydia “will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public place or other,” and better now, at “so little expense or inconvenience to her family”. Then, seeing “that her whole heart was in the subject”, he takes her hand and answers: “We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody. At Brighton she will be of less importance even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being there may teach her her own insignificance.” He ends on a joke: she cannot grow much worse “without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest of her life.” Here “mischief” means serious harm, “an object of prey” means someone worth hunting, and “authorizing” means giving the right. The student builds a thesis on whether Mr. Bennet is sensible or careless, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say what happens to Lydia at Brighton (the chapter ends with her leaving), that Wickham plans anything toward Lydia (nothing in this chapter links them), that Mr. Bennet does not love his daughters (he answers with real affection), or that Wickham knows what Darcy told Elizabeth.

One reading

Sensible. His reasons are real ones, given seriously: a sensible colonel to watch her, no fortune to tempt anyone, a place where she will matter less. Lydia is wild to go, and her going is “all that consoled” her mother. Keeping her home by force would cost the family its peace for perhaps no gain. He listens “attentively”, sees that Elizabeth’s heart is in it, and comforts her that she and Jane “must be respected and valued”. On this reading he weighs the risk, finds it small, and chooses the lesser trouble.

• Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody.
• Wherever you and Jane are known, you must be respected and valued

Another reading

Careless. In his final answer, peace at Longbourn comes first, before any reason about Lydia. He meets her plea with jokes (the “lovers”, the “three--very silly sisters”), and her warning that Lydia’s character “will be fixed” gets only a joke about locking her up. He hands his own work to Colonel Forster and to Brighton itself, and the plan ends on “Let us hope”. Lydia’s own dream is of being “the object of attention to tens and to scores” of officers, not of learning her insignificance. On this reading his affection is real, but it takes the place of an answer.

• We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go, then.
• Let us hope, therefore, that her being there may teach her her own insignificance.

Listen for

• Tests each of Mr. Bennet’s reasons, not only the first or the funniest.
• Notices the order of his answer: peace first, then the verdict, then the reasons, then “Let us hope”.
• Weighs his affection for Elizabeth as real without treating it as an answer to her argument.
• Judges by the reasons the chapter gives, not by anything that happens later in the book.

If stuck

• What reasons does Mr. Bennet give for letting Lydia go?
• Which reason comes first, and what does it say about whose comfort is at stake?
• Is it wrong to choose peace at home if the danger seems small?

A strong answer A strong response might argue that Mr. Bennet is sensible, because his reasons are real: Colonel Forster “is a sensible man”, Lydia is “too poor to be an object of prey”, and keeping her home would set Lydia and her mother against him for a danger that looks small. The strongest objection is that, in his final answer, “no peace at Longbourn” comes before every reason about Lydia, that he meets Elizabeth’s plea with jokes rather than answers, and that his plan rests on “Let us hope”, while Lydia dreams of being “the object of attention to tens and to scores” of officers. A revised thesis might hold that his reasons are sensible taken one by one, but that he reaches for them after choosing his own peace, so the decision is careless in how it is made even where it is reasonable in what it says. Key evidence to consider includes “He heard her attentively”, “affectionately taking her hand”, and the father’s joke that ends the talk.