Print at 100% scale on letter paper, with no added margins.
Pride and Prejudice
Mountaineers · 10th–12th
Elizabeth has always looked away from her father's faults because he is kind to her. Is that loyalty, or a kind of blindness?
The tension Elizabeth had always “endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook” in her father's treatment of his wife; now “she had never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages” of so unsuitable a marriage, nor the waste of his talents.
What the Bennets' marriage shows Elizabeth now that she has learned to look, and how a cut-short summer tour brings her near Pemberley.
Had Elizabeth formed her idea of marriage only from her own home, it would have been a bleak one. Mr. Bennet, charmed by youth and beauty, married a woman of weak understanding and narrow mind, and his respect and affection for her soon ended. He did not seek comfort in worse pleasures; he enjoyed the country and his books, and took his amusement from his wife’s ignorance and folly. Elizabeth had always seen, with pain, how wrongly he behaved as a husband, above all in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own daughters. But she respected his abilities and was grateful for his kindness to her, so she tried to put it out of her mind. Now she feels more strongly than ever what such a marriage costs the daughters, and how his talents, rightly used, might at least have kept his daughters respectable. With the regiment gone, home is dull. Her mother and Kitty complain constantly, and Elizabeth fears that a seaside town with a camp will harden the folly of her youngest sister. Finding, as people often do, that a long-awaited event brings less joy than hoped, she fixes her hopes on her summer tour of the Lakes with her uncle and aunt Gardiner, and decides it is lucky that Jane cannot come: one small regret, she reasons, keeps off a general disappointment. Lydia’s letters home are long awaited and very short, full of officers, the library and a new gown or parasol; her letters to Kitty are too full of underlined words to be shared. After a few weeks Longbourn grows cheerful again, Mrs. Bennet returns to her usual complaining calm, and by mid-June Kitty can enter Meryton without tears. Then a letter from Mrs. Gardiner delays and shortens the tour. Mr. Gardiner’s business means they must give up the Lakes and go no farther north than Derbyshire, where Mrs. Gardiner once lived. Elizabeth is very disappointed, but is soon content again. The word Derbyshire makes her think of Pemberley and its owner, and she says that surely she can visit his county without his noticing. After four more weeks the Gardiners arrive, leave their four young ones in Jane’s care, and set off with Elizabeth, well suited to one another as companions. The narrator passes over the famous sights of the journey and comes to Lambton, Mrs. Gardiner’s old town, which lies within five miles of Pemberley. Mrs. Gardiner wants to see the place again, and asks whether Elizabeth would not like to see it too, since Wickham grew up there. Elizabeth, distressed, says she is tired of great houses; her aunt calls this stupid and praises the grounds. Afraid of meeting Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth thinks of speaking openly to her aunt, but decides to keep that as a last resort. That night she asks the chambermaid about Pemberley, its owner, and, with alarm, whether the family are there for the summer. They are not. Relieved, she is now curious to see the house, and the next morning she agrees with an air of indifference. To Pemberley, therefore, they are to go.
Start with the chapter’s first two paragraphs, the narrator’s portrait of the Bennets’ marriage and Elizabeth’s view of it, before the travel plans take over: they are the weightiest pages in the chapter and the easiest to skim. Before reading, ask students to mark two kinds of moment as they go: every place where someone makes the best of a disappointment, and every place where Elizabeth hides or puts away what she feels. Afterward, ask which two marked places are most alike, and leave it there; the last written question asks whether Elizabeth’s long looking away from her father’s faults was loyalty or a kind of blindness, and the discussion builds toward it. Read aloud the opening, from “Had Elizabeth’s opinion” to “enlarging the mind of his wife.”, and then the close, from “Elizabeth was distressed.” to the last line. Keep to the chapter. No answer may say that Elizabeth meets Darcy at Pemberley; the chapter ends before they arrive. No answer may say that anything has gone wrong at Brighton; Lydia’s letters say little. No answer may say that Elizabeth wants to see Darcy; she fears meeting him, and agrees to go only when told the family is away. And no answer may say that she loves her father less; she still respects his abilities and is grateful for his kindness to her. Watch for four traps: summarising the travel plans and skipping the portrait of the marriage; making Mr. Bennet a plain villain, when the narrator credits his abilities and his refusal of worse comforts; reading the trip to Pemberley as secret hope, when the chapter shows only alarm and then curiosity; and treating Elizabeth’s theory of one small vexation as a joke, when it is a real way of living with disappointment.
Retell The student retells the chapter in order: the narrator’s account of the Bennets’ marriage and Mr. Bennet’s comforts; Elizabeth’s long looking away and what she now sees; the dull house after the regiment and her fear for her youngest sister; her theory of one small vexation; Lydia’s short letters; Longbourn’s recovery; the letter that cuts the tour to Derbyshire, and her thought of Pemberley; the Gardiners’ arrival and the journey; her aunt’s proposal, her alarm, the chambermaid, and her consent. Then the student picks the sentence that matters most and says why. Look for a retelling that gives the opening portrait its full weight and does not turn the ending into a wish to see Darcy.
Imitate the author After copying, the student writes two short pieces about an invented person, such as a boy whose older brother is kind to him and careless with everyone else. First, on the model of the first passage, three sentences: a short one saying what the boy had always seen; a long one that gives his reasons for looking away before the thing he tried to forget, as Austen’s “respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself” comes before “she endeavoured to forget”, and ends on its strongest word of judgment; and one that turns, as Austen’s does, on “But she had never felt so strongly as now”, and takes up a key word twice across a dash, as Austen does with “talents”. Second, on the model of the second passage: four sentences of a character’s private reasoning that turn a disappointment into a comfort, ending on a general maxim the way Elizabeth’s ends on “A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful”. The student then says which piece was harder to make sound true.
Debate Take sides on the last written question. One side argues that Elizabeth’s looking away was loyalty, and gathers “had never been blind”, “She had always seen it with pain”, “respecting his abilities”, and the narrator’s credit to Mr. Bennet for refusing worse comforts. The other side argues that it was a kind of blindness, and gathers “endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook”, “to banish from her thoughts”, “his affectionate treatment of herself”, and “never felt so strongly as now”. Each side must answer the other’s best line. Neither may say that Elizabeth loves her father less, or judge by anything that happens later in the book.
Purpose Close on how the chapter is built. It opens on the book’s plainest account of a marriage gone wrong and ends, after a chain of other people’s plans, on one short sentence: “To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.” Ask why Austen puts the portrait of Mr. Bennet and the road to Pemberley in the same chapter, and what the two halves share: in each, Elizabeth meets something she would rather not face by managing it in private. Then ask what the word “therefore” claims about how the decision was made.
Easier Read aloud the first two paragraphs, from “Had Elizabeth’s opinion” to “enlarging the mind of his wife.” Make two lists together: what Elizabeth has always seen in her father, and what she did about it. Talk about what “illiberal”, “decorum” and “reprehensible” mean. Talk through the questions on the true philosopher and on the daughters’ contempt, then answer the last written question aloud before writing it.
On level Talk through all five discussion questions in order, then write both written questions as a thesis, the strongest objection and a revised thesis, each with lines from the chapter.
Harder Ask for one argued essay on how a person should live with a disappointment that cannot be undone, setting Mr. Bennet’s “true philosopher”, Elizabeth’s theory of one small vexation, and her long effort “to forget what she could not overlook” side by side as three answers. The essay should meet the objection that making the best of things is simply good sense, and must not judge by anything that happens later in the book.
1. Mr. Bennet gets little from his wife except a laugh at her foolishness. The narrator calls that the way of “the true philosopher”. How much praise is in that title?Tone
What it asks It asks the student to hear the narrator’s tone in the chapter’s opening paragraph. Mr. Bennet, “captivated by youth and beauty”, married a woman whose “weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her.” The narrator then credits him: he “was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice.” He was “fond of the country and of books”. Then: “To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted than as her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.” Here “imprudence” means lack of good sense, “indebted” means owing, and “wanting” means missing. The student decides how much praise the title “the true philosopher” carries. The card does not make Mr. Bennet a plain villain; the narrator credits his refusal of worse comforts.
Real credit, lightly given. The narrator names a worse road and says he did not take it: none of the pleasures “which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice.” He turns to books and the country instead, and takes what small good his marriage still offers. He made the bad bargain himself, through “his own imprudence”, and he bears it without self-pity. On this reading “the true philosopher” is half a smile and half a real compliment: he has made the best of what is given.
But Mr. Bennet was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice.
He was fond of the country and of books
Mockery dressed as praise. The sentence before the title has already judged him: this “is not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his wife”. A philosopher is supposed to seek wisdom, and this one has found entertainment in his wife’s “ignorance and folly”. The grand title is too big for what he does, and the gap is the joke. The next paragraph names what his amusement costs: it exposes his wife “to the contempt” of her own daughters. On this reading the narrator lets him keep the title only to show how little it is worth.
This is not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his wife
the true philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.
A strong answer A strong response listens for two notes in one phrase. One reader hears real credit: the narrator names the worse comforts “which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice” and says Mr. Bennet did not seek them, so making the best of “such as are given” is a kind of wisdom. Another hears mockery: the sentence before has already said this is “not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his wife”, and a philosopher whose comfort is his wife’s “ignorance and folly” is a philosopher only in jest. The best answers notice that the narrator also lays the marriage on “his own imprudence”, and that the next paragraph shows what his amusement costs his daughters, which bears on the last written question.
2. Elizabeth blames her father for exposing his wife “to the contempt” of her own daughters. She is one of those daughters. What does she feel about her mother?Character
What it asks It asks the student to turn Elizabeth’s judgment of her father back on Elizabeth. She sees “that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum” which, by exposing his wife “to the contempt” of her own daughters, “was so highly reprehensible.” Here “breach” means a breaking, “conjugal obligation” means a husband’s duty to his wife, “decorum” means fitting behaviour, and “reprehensible” means deserving blame. The chapter’s first words set the account of the marriage inside her view: “Had Elizabeth’s opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic comfort.” In that account her mother has a “weak understanding and illiberal mind”. After the regiment leaves, Elizabeth finds that her mother’s and Kitty’s “constant repinings” throw “a real gloom over their domestic circle”, and she hopes Kitty may one day be reasonable enough “not to mention an officer above once a day”. The student decides how far Elizabeth shares the contempt she blames her father for. The card does not say that Elizabeth loves her father less, and it does not settle the contempt; the chapter never shows her speaking of her mother at all.
Some of that contempt. The paragraph that judges her mother is framed by Elizabeth’s own opinion, and in it her mother has a “weak understanding and illiberal mind”, words nothing in the chapter softens. At home she counts her mother’s complaining as part of the gloom, and her hope for Kitty is a joke of the kind her father makes. On this reading she has already learned the contempt, and blaming her father for teaching it is easier than seeing it in herself.
Had Elizabeth’s opinion been all drawn from her own family
a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her
Pain, not contempt. She sees her mother’s weakness, but seeing is not contempt. What she has felt about the marriage is “pain”, and the wrong she names is the exposing: a father who shows his daughters their mother’s folly. To call that “so highly reprehensible” is to take her mother’s side against the laughter. Her complaint about home is that it is dull, not that her mother is beneath her. On this reading she guards her mother’s dignity even where she cannot respect her mind.
She had always seen it with pain
in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible
A strong answer A strong response separates seeing from despising. One reader finds the contempt already in Elizabeth: the portrait of a woman with a “weak understanding and illiberal mind” is framed by Elizabeth’s opinion, and her mother’s “constant repinings” are part of the gloom she feels at home. Another finds her clear of it: she has seen the marriage “with pain”, and what she calls “so highly reprehensible” is the exposing, so she sides with her mother’s dignity against her father’s laughter. The best answers notice that the chapter never shows Elizabeth speaking of her mother, and ask whether her blame of her father also spares her a look at herself, which leads toward the last written question.
3. Elizabeth says she can enter Darcy’s county and “rob it of a few petrified spars, without his perceiving me.” Why does she picture herself as a thief?Inference
What it asks It asks the student to read the joke Elizabeth makes when the tour is cut down to Derbyshire. “With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner.” Then she says, “I may enter his county with impunity, and rob it of a few petrified spars, without his perceiving me.” Here “with impunity” means without punishment, “petrified spars” are pieces of crystal stone that visitors carried home from Derbyshire as keepsakes, and “perceiving” means noticing. Later, when her aunt proposes the visit, Elizabeth feels “that she had no business at Pemberley”, and the thought of meeting Mr. Darcy is “dreadful”. The student decides why she casts herself, in play, as a thief. The card does not say that Elizabeth wants to see Darcy; the joke is about not being seen.
A guilty conscience. A thief has no right to be where she is, and Elizabeth feels the same: later she has “no business at Pemberley”. The joke makes Darcy the owner of the whole county, and her the one who might be caught. The phrase “with impunity” means without punishment, which takes for granted something to be punished for. On this reading the joke lets slip that she feels she has something to answer for in his county.
I may enter his county with impunity
She felt that she had no business at Pemberley
A fear made small. What she dreads is being seen: “without his perceiving me.” The joke turns that dread into a game of pocketing pebbles, and the game makes it bearable. It is how she meets the loss of the Lakes, by deciding to be happy, and it is close to how her father meets his marriage, by laughing. On this reading the thief is a way of not looking straight at what she fears, and the fear comes back, unjoking, as a blush.
without his perceiving me
She blushed at the very idea
A strong answer A strong response reads the joke for what it lets slip. One reader hears guilt: a thief has no right to be where she is, “with impunity” takes for granted something to be punished for, and later she feels she has “no business at Pemberley”. Another hears a fear made small: the danger is “his perceiving me”, and turning herself into a girl pocketing stones keeps that fear at arm’s length, much as her father keeps his disappointment at arm’s length by laughing. The best answers notice that the joke is about not being seen, so it cannot mean she hopes to see him, and that the same feeling returns as a blush when her aunt proposes the visit.
4. When the travellers set off, the narrator lists what makes Elizabeth and the Gardiners good company. Which thing on that list did the Bennets’ marriage lack most?Theme
What it asks It asks the student to hold the chapter’s picture of good company up against its picture of a bad marriage. As Elizabeth leaves with her uncle and aunt: “One enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness as companions; a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences--cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure--and affection and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments abroad.” Here “suitableness” means being well matched, “comprehended” means included, “temper” means an even, patient mood, and “abroad” means out in the world, away from home. The word answers the chapter’s opening, where Elizabeth feels what must come to the daughters “of so unsuitable a marriage”. In that marriage “Respect, esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever”; Mrs. Bennet has a “weak understanding”, and Mr. Bennet’s talents are given “so ill-judged a direction”. The student weighs the list against the marriage and decides which missing thing mattered most. The card does not make Mr. Bennet a plain villain.
Intelligence. The marriage went wrong because of a “weak understanding and illiberal mind”, and it went wrong “very early”. Affection did not die by itself; her want of sense ended it. The list sets “affection and intelligence” side by side, as if one keeps the other alive. Even Mr. Bennet’s talents, rightly used, might have been “incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife”, the narrator allows. On this reading the missing thing is the one no effort could supply.
a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her
affection and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were disappointments abroad
Temper to bear inconveniences. The Bennets had intelligence, in him, and once had something like affection. What failed was the patience to bear a disappointment kindly. Mr. Bennet met his by taking amusement in his wife’s “ignorance and folly”, and the narrator calls the result a “continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum”. The travellers’ temper lets them “bear inconveniences” and make up their “disappointments” among themselves. On this reading the marriage was harmed most by what he did with his disappointment, not by the disappointment itself.
health and temper to bear inconveniences
To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted than as her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement.
A strong answer A strong response weighs the list against the marriage, item by item. One reader picks intelligence: a “weak understanding and illiberal mind” ended affection “very early”, and the narrator allows that even his talents, rightly used, might not have enlarged her mind. Another picks temper: the house had a clever man in it, and what failed was the patience to bear a disappointment without turning it into amusement at his wife’s “ignorance and folly”. The best answers notice that “suitableness” echoes the opening’s “so unsuitable a marriage”, that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are a married couple, and that the list is about meeting “disappointments” well, the chapter’s other subject.
5. Elizabeth asks the chambermaid whether Pemberley is a fine place and who owns it. She already knows both answers. What does she gain by saving her real question for last?Character
What it asks It asks the student to read the order of Elizabeth’s three questions to the chambermaid. When her aunt proposes the visit, “Elizabeth was distressed.” She feels that she has “no business at Pemberley”, and says she is tired of great houses. Mrs. Gardiner answers that “the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country.” Then the possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy “instantly occurred. It would be dreadful!” Elizabeth thinks of speaking openly to her aunt, “But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries as to the absence of the family were unfavourably answered.” Then: “Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid whether Pemberley were not a very fine place, what was the name of its proprietor, and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for the summer?” She knows who owns Pemberley, and she has just heard her aunt praise it. Here “proprietor” means owner, “unfavourably answered” means given the answer she feared, and “down for the summer” means staying at their country house for the season. The student decides what the order does for her. The card does not say that Elizabeth wants to see Darcy (she asks so as to avoid him, and agrees to go only after “A most welcome negative”), or that she meets him at Pemberley; the chapter ends before they arrive.
A disguise. Asked first, the question about the family would show what she cares about. Placed after two travellers’ questions, it sounds like idle interest. The next morning she shows the same care when she agrees “with a proper air of indifference”. She has already put on a “disinclination” for her aunt; now she puts on mere curiosity for a stranger. On this reading the order hides a feeling she would rather nobody saw, even a chambermaid who knows nothing of her.
whether Pemberley were not a very fine place, what was the name of its proprietor
could readily answer, and with a proper air of indifference
A delay. She dreads the answer, so she puts off hearing it. The first two questions she can ask calmly; the third comes “with no little alarm”, and the narrator marks the change. Speaking openly to her aunt was held back the same way, as “the last resource”. On this reading she is managing herself more than the chambermaid: she comes at the thing she fears by the safest road, much as she has long kept her father’s faults at a distance rather than look straight at them.
and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for the summer?
she finally resolved that it could be the last resource
A strong answer A strong response starts from the fact that the first two questions are not for information: she knows who owns Pemberley, and her aunt has just praised its “finest woods”. One reader hears a disguise: placed behind two travellers’ questions, the one she cares about sounds idle, and the same care shows the next morning in her “proper air of indifference”. Another hears a delay: she puts off the answer she dreads, and the narrator marks the third question “with no little alarm”. The best answers notice that she chose this private route over speaking openly to her aunt, so the one choice wholly hers on the road to Pemberley is a way of managing a fear in private. They do not say that she hopes to see Darcy, or what happens at Pemberley.
1. Elizabeth thinks one small regret, missing Jane, will protect her trip from a bigger disappointment. Then she loses the Lakes, and “all was soon right again.” What set things right?
What it asks It asks the student to test Elizabeth’s theory against what happens next. The narrator first sets it up: she “found, what has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had looked forward with impatient desire, did not, in taking place, bring all the satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity”, and so to “console herself for the present, and prepare for another disappointment.” Then Elizabeth reasons: “Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain. But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my sister’s absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of pleasure realized. A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by the defence of some little peculiar vexation.” Then the Lakes are lost: “Elizabeth was excessively disappointed: she had set her heart on seeing the Lakes; and still thought there might have been time enough. But it was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy; and all was soon right again.” Here “felicity” means happiness, “ceaseless” means never-ending, “warded off” means kept away, “peculiar” means particular, and “vexation” means annoyance. The narrator names two things when all comes right, “her business to be satisfied” and “her temper to be happy”, and neither is the theory. The student builds a thesis on what set things right, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card treats her theory as a real way of living with disappointment, not as a joke.
The plan. Elizabeth had already decided that a plan with no flaw in it cannot succeed, and that one small regret keeps off “general disappointment”. So the loss of the Lakes does not find her unready: she is “excessively disappointed”, but not for long. Her theory never promised that nothing would go wrong, only that she would not be crushed when something did, and she is not. The trip then begins with “One enjoyment” that “was certain”, the travellers’ suitableness. On this reading the plan is a sound working philosophy, kin to her father’s making the best of what is given, without its cost to anyone else.
A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful
One enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness as companions
Her duty and her temper, not the plan. The narrator smiles at the plan before she speaks: it is what “has been sometimes found before”, and its last step is to “prepare for another disappointment.” Then a large loss comes anyway, for a reason she could not plan for, Mr. Gardiner’s business. When all comes right, the narrator credits two plainer things: it was “her business to be satisfied”, a duty she sets herself, “and certainly her temper to be happy”, her nature. On this reading the theory is a comfort she tells herself, and the chapter gently laughs at it.
But it was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy;
and by again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the present, and prepare for another disappointment.
A strong answer A strong response might argue that the plan set things right: Elizabeth had already decided that “A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be successful”, so the loss of the Lakes did not find her unready, and though she is “excessively disappointed”, “all was soon right again.” Key evidence includes the journey’s “One enjoyment” that “was certain”, the travellers’ suitableness. The strongest objection is that the narrator has already smiled at the plan (“what has been sometimes found before”, a plan to “prepare for another disappointment”), that the small regret did not keep off the large one, and that the narrator credits something else: “her business to be satisfied”, a duty she sets herself, and “her temper to be happy”, her nature. A revised thesis might hold that the plan fails as a forecast but works as a habit of mind, much like her father’s philosophy, and might then ask whether making herself satisfied is the same effort as trying “to forget what she could not overlook”, which leads into the last written question.
2. Elizabeth has always looked away from her father's faults because he is kind to her. Is that loyalty, or a kind of blindness?
What it asks It asks the whole question of the chapter. The narrator says: “Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her father’s behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum” which exposed his wife “to the contempt” of her own daughters, and which “was so highly reprehensible.” Then: “But she had never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages” that must come to the daughters “of so unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising from so ill-judged a direction of talents--talents which, rightly used, might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.” The chapter does not say what has made her feel it so strongly now; the next paragraph has her fear that one sister will be “hardened in all her folly and assurance” at “a watering-place and a camp”. Here “impropriety” means wrong conduct, “endeavoured” means tried hard, “overlook” means fail to see, “banish” means drive out, “reprehensible” means deserving blame, and “respectability” means good name. The student builds a thesis on whether Elizabeth’s long looking away was loyalty or a kind of blindness, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say that Elizabeth loves her father less (she still respects his abilities and is grateful for his kindness), that anything has gone wrong at Brighton (Lydia’s letters say little), that Elizabeth wants to see Darcy, or that she meets him at Pemberley.
Loyalty. She was never blind; the narrator says so in as many words. She saw the fault “with pain” and chose not to dwell on it, out of respect for his “abilities” and gratitude for his kindness. A daughter is not her father’s judge, and dwelling on his marriage could not have mended it. To “forget” here is a choice made with open eyes. And when the cost to her sisters comes home to her, she looks at it fully and names it in the hardest words in the chapter. On this reading her looking away kept faith with a father who had earned some of it, and was not a failure to see.
Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her father’s behaviour as a husband.
respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself
A kind of blindness. Trying “to forget what she could not overlook” is a mind shutting its eyes on purpose, and “to banish from her thoughts” is the same act again. Her gratitude is for his treatment “of herself”, not of her mother or her sisters, and that gratitude is what kept her from judging what he did to them. Only “now” does she feel “the disadvantages” of such a marriage for the daughters, herself among them, though those disadvantages were there all along. On this reading she saw the fault but would not let herself weigh it, and that is the blindness that matters.
she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook
But she had never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage
A strong answer A strong response might argue that her looking away was loyalty, because the narrator insists she “had never been blind”: she saw the fault “with pain”, chose not to dwell on it out of respect and gratitude, and could not have mended her mother and father’s marriage by dwelling on it. Key evidence includes “respecting his abilities” and how fully she weighs the cost once she feels it. The strongest objection is that “endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook” describes a mind shutting its eyes on purpose, that her gratitude is for his kindness “of herself”, and that only “now” does she feel what the marriage costs his daughters, herself among them, so her loyalty bought her peace of mind while the cost ran on. A revised thesis might hold that Elizabeth was loyal in what she felt and blind in what she let herself think, and that the chapter’s hard words, “breach”, “decorum”, “reprehensible”, are the judgment she had put off, arriving all at once without lessening her love.
Had Elizabeth’s opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic comfort.Having to do with marriage, and with what a husband and wife owe each other (from Latin con-, together, and jugum, a yoke: two joined under one yoke). The chapter uses it twice: first in “conjugal felicity”, the happiness Elizabeth could not have learned at home, then in “conjugal obligation”, the duty her father breaks. Between the two uses, the word moves from what a marriage gives to what it asks.
Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good-humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in their marriage put an end to all real affection for her.Narrow and ungenerous in mind; small in outlook and in sympathy (from Latin liberalis, fit for a free person, as in a liberal education). Mrs. Bennet’s “weak understanding and illiberal mind” is the narrator’s whole case against her in one phrase: “weak” names what she cannot grasp, “illiberal” the narrowness of what she cares about. In Austen the word has nothing to do with politics.
She had always seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible.Behaviour that is fitting and proper to one’s place and to the occasion (from Latin decorus, seemly). Elizabeth counts her father’s treatment of his wife a “breach of conjugal obligation and decorum”. Obligation is what a husband owes; decorum is how his conduct looks to others, here his own daughters.
It was consequently necessary to name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity; to have some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the present, and prepare for another disappointment.Great happiness, especially the settled happiness of a home (from Latin felix, happy, lucky). The narrator uses it for the “conjugal felicity” the Bennets lack and then, with a smile, for the “actual felicity” Elizabeth keeps putting off to a later date. A grand word set beside such small, careful plans is part of the narrator’s gentle joke.
Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and by the middle of June Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without tears,--an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth hope, that by the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and malicious arrangement at the War Office, another regiment should be quartered in Meryton.Complaining in a peevish, whining way (from Latin queri, to complain). Mrs. Bennet is “restored to her usual querulous serenity”: two words that should not fit together, since serenity is calm. Her calm, it seems, is a steady low complaint. The phrase is the narrator’s whole picture of the home the marriage made.
She felt that she had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it.A mild unwillingness; a leaning away from something (the opposite of inclination). Elizabeth is “obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it”: to “assume” here is to put on, as one puts on a costume. Her real reason is the feeling that she has “no business at Pemberley”, which she cannot say aloud, so she puts on another: she is tired of great houses. The chapter ends with her putting on a second show, “a proper air of indifference”.