The sanguine hope of good, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yet deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father, to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce the marriage.Hopeful and confident that things will turn out well, often more hopeful than the facts allow (from Latin sanguis, blood: a person ruled by the blood was thought cheerful and warm). Jane’s “sanguine hope of good” has nothing to feed on, since she “had no intelligence to give”, and the narrator says it comes from her heart. The word marks her hope as a matter of temper, not of evidence.
Pride and Prejudice
Chapter 47 — Teaching Companion
Jane Austen · Mountaineers 10th–12th
Coaching, not a script — and not an answer key: every question here has more than one defensible answer.
This chapter's big question
Nearly everyone in this chapter finds someone to blame for Lydia's flight. Whose account of the fault seems most just to you?
The tension Upstairs there are hysterics and at dinner there are sermons, but the note Lydia left for Mrs. Forster laughs at "a good joke" and worries about a slit in her muslin gown.
Today's focus
Watch the long ride home turn into an argument about Wickham’s motives, then listen to how differently Mrs. Bennet, Mary and Jane receive the travellers.
Two core ideas
- Elizabeth admits to her aunt and uncle that she knew Wickham’s real character and, with Jane, chose not to make it public before the regiment left.
- Mr. Bennet has gone to London to search, Mrs. Bennet keeps to her room, and Lydia’s note shows she left believing she was going to Gretna Green to be married.
The shape at a glance
As the carriage leaves Lambton, Mr. Gardiner says he now leans to Jane’s hopeful view: Lydia was a guest in Wickham’s own Colonel’s family and has friends to step forward, so Wickham’s temptation is not worth the risk. Elizabeth brightens for a moment, Mrs. Gardiner agrees, and then Elizabeth argues back: the change into a hackney coach, no traces on the Barnet road, his friend’s belief that he never meant to marry, his need to marry money, and a father whose indolence he might count on. In tears, she says Lydia was never taught to think and has been allowed to live for amusement and officers. She tells her aunt and uncle that she and Jane knew Wickham’s real character and chose not to make it public before the regiment left, and that she never thought Lydia in danger. Self-reproach stays with her the whole journey. After a night on the road they reach Longbourn at dinnertime the next day. The little Gardiners caper on the steps, and Jane runs down from their mother’s room: their father went to London on Tuesday and has written once, their mother keeps to her dressing-room, and Jane still hopes for a letter announcing a marriage. Upstairs, Mrs. Bennet weeps, rails at Wickham and the Forsters, fears her husband will be killed in a duel and the Collinses will turn them out, and begs her brother to find the pair and make them marry, with money for wedding clothes. Mr. Gardiner promises to go to London the next day and urges moderation, and Mrs. Bennet is left to her housekeeper, since she cannot hold her tongue before the servants. At dinner Kitty is fretful and Mary whispers a lesson on the frailty of a woman’s reputation; Elizabeth stares, too oppressed to answer. Alone in the afternoon, Jane tells Elizabeth all she knows: Colonel Forster had suspected some partiality, Denny would not repeat his belief that Wickham would not marry, Kitty had known of the attachment for weeks, and Wickham is said to have left Meryton in debt. Elizabeth wishes they had been less secret; Jane says they acted for the best. Jane shows her Lydia’s note to Mrs. Forster, which laughs at the joke of signing herself Lydia Wickham and asks for a slit in her muslin gown to be mended. Elizabeth calls her thoughtless but takes comfort that Lydia meant marriage. Jane tells of their father’s shock, their mother’s hysterics, the help of aunt Philips, and the visit of Lady Lucas, which Elizabeth would rather have done without. The chapter ends with their father’s plan to trace the hackney coach from Clapham, and Jane’s word that he left in a great hurry, his spirits greatly discomposed.
A way in
Start in the carriage. Read aloud Mr. Gardiner’s reasoning, from “I have been thinking it over again” to “His temptation is not adequate to the risk”, and ask students whether they are persuaded before they hear Elizabeth’s answer. Then, as they read on, have them keep a short list: each person who explains what went wrong, and whom they blame. Let them meet Lydia’s note where Austen puts it, near the end. Leave aside which account is most just, because the last written question asks it.
Lesson plan
Retell The student retells the chapter in order: Mr. Gardiner’s hopeful reasoning in the carriage and Elizabeth’s answer to it; her account of Lydia’s upbringing and her confession that she and Jane kept Wickham’s character quiet; the journey and the little Gardiners on the steps; Jane’s news; Mrs. Bennet upstairs, with her complaints, her fear of a duel and her wedding clothes; Mary’s lesson at dinner; Jane’s report of Colonel Forster, Denny and Kitty; the sisters on their silence; Lydia’s note; and their father’s search. Then the student picks the sentence that matters most and says what Austen does with it.
Imitate the author After copying, the student writes three sentences on the model of the passage, about two invented people meeting the same bad news. Begin with one plain sentence that says what is known. In the second, make one person’s feeling the subject of the sentence, say where it comes from, and let the sentence run on to a quiet close, slowed by a word set off with commas, as in “and, perhaps, announce the marriage”. In the third, give the other person’s reaction as a list of three after a semicolon, and after a second semicolon end on a judgment that names no one, as in “blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence”.
Debate Take sides on the last written question. One side argues for Elizabeth’s account, and gathers “never been taught to think on serious subjects”, her father’s “indolence”, her self-reproach and the note’s “good joke”. The other side argues for the narrator’s verdict, and gathers “ill-judging indulgence”, “principally owing”, and Mrs. Bennet’s own talk of the Forsters, of “poor dear Lydia” and of wedding clothes. A third voice may argue that the fault is mostly Lydia’s own. Each side must answer the other’s strongest line, and no side may claim that the sisters’ silence caused the flight, or say whether the pair will marry, since the chapter leaves both open.
Purpose Close on how the chapter is built. It is almost all talk: a carriage of reasoning, a dressing-room of complaint, a dinner sermon, a sisters’ half hour, and then, near the end, the one voice that has been missing, Lydia’s, in a note that laughs. Ask why Austen holds the note back until every other account has been given. Ask why the little Gardiners meet the carriage with joy at the door of this house, and why the chapter ends not on a judgment but on a father tracing the number of a hackney coach. Then ask what the chapter suggests about how a family explains a disgrace, and what each explanation shows about the one who gives it.
Easier Read aloud Lydia’s note, and Mrs. Bennet’s two speeches to her brother. Make a list together of who blames whom in the chapter. Talk about what “sanguine” and “condole” mean. Talk through the questions on Mrs. Bennet’s wedding clothes and on Lydia’s note, 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 the chapter assigns responsibility without a single character announcing a verdict, tracing the carriage argument, Mrs. Bennet’s complaints, Mary’s lesson, the sisters’ talk of their silence, the narrator’s sentence on “ill-judging indulgence” and Lydia’s note. The essay should judge whose account the chapter itself seems to share, meet the objection that the narrator’s one plain verdict settles it, and must not judge by anything that happens later in the book.
Discussion
- In the carriage Elizabeth tells her uncle and aunt about her father’s faults, but not her mother’s. Why does she leave her mother out?Character
What it asks It asks the student to notice whom Elizabeth names, and whom she does not, when she explains Lydia to her uncle and aunt. Of Wickham’s plans she says: “Lydia has no brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father’s behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever seemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ would do as little and think as little about it, as any father could do, in such a matter.” Of Lydia herself: “she has never been taught to think on serious subjects”, “she has been given up to nothing but amusement and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in her way.” Mr. Gardiner is Mrs. Bennet’s brother: at Longbourn she calls him “brother”, and the narrator calls the Gardiners “her brother and sister”. The card does not say whom Elizabeth privately blames most; it asks why her mother goes unnamed.
One reading
Tact. She is in a carriage with her mother’s brother and his wife, and she will not run down their sister to their faces. The father she can name, because his fault is one the Gardiners can see for themselves. The mother’s fault she puts into the passive voice: Lydia “has been allowed”, “has never been taught”. On this reading everyone in the carriage knows who did the allowing, and Elizabeth leaves the name out of loyalty and good manners.
She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idle and frivolous manner
she has never been taught to think on serious subjects
Another reading
She is answering questions, not drawing up a charge. Her father comes in when her uncle asks whether Wickham could expect Lydia’s friends not to step forward: the friend who ought to step forward is a father. Lydia’s upbringing comes in when she is asked whether Lydia could be “so lost to everything but love of him”, and Elizabeth, in tears, answers about Lydia, not about who raised her. On this reading each person is named where the argument needs them, and the mother is left out because no question called for her, not because Elizabeth is shielding her.
Could he expect that her friends would not step forward?
Lydia has no brothers to step forward
Listen for
- Notices that the charge against the father is about what Wickham “might imagine”, and the charge about Lydia’s upbringing comes in the passive: “has been allowed”, “has never been taught”.
- Hears Elizabeth’s question about Lydia, what “attractions has she beyond youth, health, and good humour”, and asks whether a sister could say it to anyone but family.
- Sets the carriage beside the narrator’s later sentence on “ill-judging indulgence”, which points to the person Elizabeth leaves out, though it never names her either.
- Notices that Elizabeth, in tears, also says “Perhaps I am not doing her justice.”
If stuck
- What does Elizabeth say about her father in the carriage?
- Who has “allowed” Lydia to spend her time as she likes?
- Would you speak of your mother’s faults in front of her brother?
A strong answer A strong response gives a reason for the silence and grounds it in the carriage talk. One reader hears tact: Elizabeth is speaking to her mother’s brother, so she names the father and puts the rest into the passive, “has been allowed”, “has never been taught”. Another hears an argument, not a verdict: her uncle asked whether Wickham could expect Lydia’s friends to step forward, and the answer turns on what he might expect of a father. The best answers notice that the narrator, a few pages later, points without a name to the person Elizabeth leaves out.
- Both of Mrs. Bennet’s messages for Lydia are about wedding clothes. What does she think a wedding would put right?Moral reasoning
What it asks It asks the student to say what Mrs. Bennet expects a wedding to mend. She begs her brother: “find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, after they are married.” And later: “tell my dear Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does not know which are the best warehouses.” Her brother’s hope is narrower: “though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more, we may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married, and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost.” He goes on recommending “moderation to her, as well in her hopes as her fears”. The card does not say whether Lydia and Wickham will marry; the chapter holds only guesses and hopes.
One reading
Everything. In her talk the wedding wipes the flight away: money for clothes, the best warehouses, Lydia to wait for her mother’s advice, and not a word of blame for Lydia herself. Upstairs she blames the Forsters and pities “poor dear Lydia”, and nothing in her plan asks Lydia to be sorry. On this reading the wedding clothes show the very “ill-judging indulgence” the narrator names, still at work while Lydia is missing.
tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them
poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her
Another reading
The family’s place in the world, and on that she is not wrong. Her brother too says not to give the matter over as lost till they know there is no marriage, and Jane hopes for a letter to “announce the marriage”. Mrs. Bennet’s fears are of the same kind: a husband killed, and “The Collinses will turn us out”. On this reading she sees that a wedding is the only rescue on offer for all of them, and what is foolish is her manner, not her aim.
till we know that they are not married, and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost
The Collinses will turn us out, before he is cold in his grave
Listen for
- Notices that her plan for Lydia is all money, clothes and warehouses, and asks what is missing from it.
- Hears Mr. Gardiner recommend moderation “as well in her hopes as her fears”, and asks why her hopes need it too.
- Sets her talk of clothes beside Lydia’s note, which also turns to clothes.
- Does not say whether Lydia and Wickham will marry; the chapter holds only guesses and hopes.
If stuck
- What does Mrs. Bennet ask her brother to do in London?
- What does she want Lydia told about money and clothes?
- If the pair were married tomorrow, what would be mended for this family, and what would be left as it was?
A strong answer A strong response says what a wedding would mend for Mrs. Bennet and grounds it in her speeches. One reader hears her expect it to mend everything: money for clothes and “the best warehouses”, with no word of blame for Lydia, as though nothing would be left to forgive. Another hears a plain view of the family’s danger, since her brother too waits to know whether they are married before giving the matter “over as lost”, and her own fear is that “The Collinses will turn us out”. The best answers separate the aim from the manner, and ask what a wedding would leave untouched.
- At dinner Mary whispers a lesson on lost virtue, and the narrator says she went on “to console herself” with such lessons. What comfort does she find in them?Tone
What it asks It asks the student to hear one phrase in the narrator’s account of Mary, and to say what her lessons do for her. Mary comes to dinner “from her books”, with a face “tolerably calm”, and is “mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance of grave reflection”: “This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation.” Then: “Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful lesson:--that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable, that one false step involves her in endless ruin, that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful, and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.” Elizabeth “lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with such kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.” The card does not treat Mary’s lesson as the chapter’s moral; Elizabeth meets it in amazement.
One reading
A way to bear a real hurt. Her sister has run off, the house is in disgrace, and Mary meets the shock the only way she knows, with sentences from her books. She offers comfort first, the “balm of sisterly consolation”, and only when Elizabeth will not answer does she reach for the lesson. On this reading the maxims are how Mary holds herself together, and the narrator, though dry, lets us see a frightened girl under the sermon.
pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation
Then perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added
Another reading
The pleasure of having a lesson to give; that is the joke. Mary comes calm from her books, “mistress enough of herself”, and treats the disaster as a chance to draw a “useful lesson”. The narrator calls her lessons “moral extractions from the evil”, as if she were mining it for something she can use. On this reading “console herself” is the narrator’s irony: what Mary gains from Lydia’s fall is a fine occasion, and the comfort she finds is in her own wisdom.
she was mistress enough of herself
such kind of moral extractions from the evil before them
Listen for
- Notices that Mary’s lesson speaks of “a female” and of “the undeserving of the other sex”, and asks how much of it is about Lydia.
- Hears the balanced phrase “no less brittle than it is beautiful” and asks whether it is wisdom or decoration.
- Asks what amazes Elizabeth: the lesson, or that Mary can give it now.
- Does not take Mary’s maxim as the chapter’s moral; Elizabeth meets it “in amazement”.
If stuck
- What does Mary whisper to Elizabeth at dinner?
- How does Elizabeth answer her?
- When something bad happens, do you ever reach for a saying or a lesson? What does it do for you?
A strong answer A strong response decides what comfort Mary finds and grounds it in the dinner scene. One reader hears a real hurt: Mary offers “sisterly consolation” first and reaches for her lesson only when Elizabeth will not reply, so the maxims are how she bears the shock. Another hears the narrator’s irony: Mary is “mistress enough of herself”, calm from her books, and her “moral extractions from the evil” serve her more than they serve Lydia. The best answers notice that Elizabeth, who blamed so freely in the carriage, cannot answer Mary at all.
- Lydia plans to surprise her family when she writes and signs her name “Lydia Wickham.” How does she imagine they will feel?Inference
What it asks It asks the student to read Lydia’s note for the one place it thinks of home: “You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing.” The note opens “You will laugh when you know where I am gone”, says “I am going to Gretna Green”, and “think it no harm to be off”. It ends with excuses to Pratt, a slit in her “worked muslin gown”, and “I hope you will drink to our good journey.” At Longbourn, Jane says their father “could not speak a word for full ten minutes” and their mother “was in hysterics”. Elizabeth cries, “Oh, thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!” and takes comfort that “it was not on her side a _scheme_ of infamy.” The card does not say what Wickham meant, whether the pair will marry, or what they are doing in London; the note shows only what Lydia believed when she left.
One reading
Delighted. She thinks of the news as a happy surprise, as if the name “Lydia Wickham” will be the whole of the story, and it never seems to cross her mind that anyone will be frightened. Upstairs, her mother is already on to wedding clothes and the best warehouses. On this reading Lydia has read part of her home rightly: she has learned there that a wedding puts everything right, and that is Elizabeth’s charge, that she was never “taught to think on serious subjects”, seen from the inside.
it will make the surprise the greater when I write to them
And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that
Another reading
She does not imagine them at all. The surprise is for her own pleasure: “You will laugh”, “I cannot help laughing myself”, “What a good joke it will be!” Her family appear once, as people who need not be told, and the note spends more words on a dance with Pratt and a torn gown. On this reading she cannot picture anyone feeling what her father felt when he could not speak for ten minutes; she feels none of the shame they feel for her.
What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing.
He could not speak a word for full ten minutes.
Listen for
- Notices that “You need not send them word at Longbourn” is the only place the note thinks of home, and only as a surprise.
- Hears the note’s last requests (Pratt, the dance, the muslin gown, a toast to their journey) and asks what they leave out.
- Weighs Elizabeth’s one comfort, that “it was not on her side a _scheme_ of infamy”, against what the note leaves out.
- Does not say what Wickham meant or what the pair are doing in London; the note shows only Lydia’s side.
If stuck
- Where does Lydia say she is going, and with whom?
- What does Lydia say about Longbourn in her note?
- If a sister left a note like this, what would it tell you she was thinking about?
A strong answer A strong response says what Lydia imagines and grounds it in the note’s own words. One reader hears her expect delight: the news is a “surprise” to be sprung with the name “Lydia Wickham”, and upstairs her mother is in fact already on to wedding clothes. Another hears that she does not picture them at all: the note laughs at its own “good joke” and spends its care on Pratt and a torn gown, while at home her father “could not speak a word for full ten minutes”. The best answers notice that the note is the one account in the chapter that feels no shame, and ask what it shows about the home she wrote from.
- When Jane tells of Lady Lucas’s kind visit, Elizabeth says, “Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.” What makes her so sure they will triumph?Character
What it asks It asks the student to find the ground of Elizabeth’s certainty. Jane reports: “My aunt Philips came to Longbourn on Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay till Thursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all, and Lady Lucas has been very kind: she walked here on Wednesday morning to condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters, if they could be of use to us.” “She had better have stayed at home,” cried Elizabeth: “perhaps she _meant_ well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see too little of one’s neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence, insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.” Just before, she has asked whether “a servant belonging to it” did not know “the whole story before the end of the day”, and Jane can only answer, “I do not know: I hope there was.” At dinner Mary has said the affair “will probably be much talked of”. The card does not say what Lady Lucas felt or what the neighbours say; the chapter gives only her visit and her offer.
One reading
Her own shame, not anything she has seen. She was not at Longbourn when Lady Lucas came; Jane, who was, calls her “very kind”, and Elizabeth herself grants that “perhaps she _meant_ well”. Nothing in the chapter shows a neighbour triumphing. On this reading Elizabeth feels the disgrace so keenly that she hears pity as gloating, and she would rather the neighbours stayed away than see her family pitied.
Lady Lucas has been very kind
perhaps she meant well
Another reading
What she knows of a small place. The story is already out: Elizabeth doubts any servant was kept from it, Jane cannot say otherwise, and Mary expects it to be “much talked of”. In such a misfortune “Assistance is impossible; condolence, insufferable”, because even a kind visit carries the news from house to house. On this reading she is judging not Lady Lucas’s heart but the neighbourhood’s habits.
Assistance is impossible; condolence, insufferable.
I do not know: I hope there was.
Listen for
- Notices that Elizabeth judges a visit she did not see, against the word of Jane, who did.
- Hears the italic “_meant_” and asks what Elizabeth thinks Lady Lucas did, as against what she meant.
- Notices that Elizabeth says nothing against aunt Philips, who stayed two days, and asks why the neighbour’s visit stings and the aunt’s does not.
- Sets Elizabeth’s shame before the neighbours beside Lydia’s note, which feels none.
If stuck
- What did Lady Lucas do on Wednesday?
- What does Elizabeth ask Jane about the servants?
- When your family is in trouble, whom do you want to come round, and whom would you rather stayed away?
A strong answer A strong response finds the ground of Elizabeth’s certainty and tests it against what Jane reports. One reader finds no ground but shame: Jane calls Lady Lucas “very kind”, Elizabeth grants she “_meant_ well”, and nothing in the chapter shows anyone triumphing. Another finds ground in what Elizabeth knows of the place: every servant may have the story, Mary expects it to be “much talked of”, and so “condolence” is only the news coming to the door. The best answers notice that she spares aunt Philips, and ask whether what she dreads is the neighbours’ triumph or their pity.
Critical thinking
- Mr. Gardiner and Elizabeth both judge Wickham by his own interest, yet they disagree about whether he means to marry Lydia. Who makes the stronger case?
What it asks It asks the student to test two arguments built on the same ground. Mr. Gardiner: “It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and who was actually staying in his Colonel’s family, that I am strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friends would not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation is not adequate to the risk.” He adds that “there is no absolute proof that they are not gone to Scotland”, and that they might be “more economically, though less expeditiously, married in London”. Elizabeth grants he would not neglect “his own interest”, but: “Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He cannot afford it.” She cites the change from the chaise into a hackney coach, “no traces of them” on the Barnet road, his friend’s belief that he never meant to marry, Lydia’s lack of brothers and her father’s “indolence”. At Longbourn Jane reports that Denny, questioned by Colonel Forster, “would not give his real opinion”, and that Wickham is said to have left Meryton “greatly in debt”. The card does not say whether Lydia and Wickham will marry, or what Wickham meant; the chapter holds only guesses, Denny’s reported belief and Jane’s hope.
One reading
Mr. Gardiner’s, or at least it is not yet beaten. He reasons from the facts of Lydia’s position: she was a guest of Wickham’s own Colonel, she has friends who will act, and the regiment would not overlook such an affront. He refuses to treat a guess as proof, and at Longbourn the guesses get weaker, not stronger: Denny will not repeat his belief, and Jane hopes it was misunderstood. On this reading Elizabeth’s grief and her guilt make her certain of the worst before the evidence is in.
a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and who was actually staying in his Colonel’s family
there is no absolute proof that they are not gone to Scotland
Another reading
Elizabeth’s. Her uncle reasons about “any young man”; she reasons about this one, whose character she knows, and whose interest is in marrying money. Her facts are concrete (the hackney coach, the Barnet road, his friend’s word), and Jane’s news adds debts. Even the risk her uncle counts on is weaker than it looks: “Lydia has no brothers to step forward”, and a father known for his indolence might do little. On this reading she sees the man where her uncle sees a type.
Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He cannot afford it.
it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt
Listen for
- Notices that Mr. Gardiner speaks of “any young man”, and Elizabeth of what “Wickham really is”.
- Notices that Elizabeth brightens “for a moment” at her uncle’s reasoning, and asks what puts the light out.
- Hears that both arguments lean on how other people will act (friends, the regiment, a father) and asks which of them the chapter shows doing anything.
- Does not say what Wickham meant or whether the pair will marry; the chapter leaves that open.
If stuck
- Why does Mr. Gardiner think Wickham would not dare to ruin Lydia?
- Why does Elizabeth think he would never marry her?
- Is it safer to judge a person by what anyone sensible would do, or by what you know of that person?
A strong answer A strong response might argue that Elizabeth makes the stronger case, because she judges the man rather than a type: Wickham “will never marry a woman without some money”, the couple changed into a hackney coach, and the father he must reckon with is known for his “indolence”. Key evidence to consider includes Jane’s report at Longbourn that Wickham is said to have left Meryton “greatly in debt”. The strongest objection is that Mr. Gardiner refuses to take guesses for proof: there is “no absolute proof that they are not gone to Scotland”, Lydia was a guest in “his Colonel’s family”, and Denny will no longer repeat his belief. A revised thesis might hold that Elizabeth reads Wickham’s character better while her uncle reads the evidence more fairly, and that her certainty owes something to the self-reproach that gives her no ease the whole journey.
- Nearly everyone in this chapter finds someone to blame for Lydia's flight. Whose account of the fault seems most just to you?
What it asks It asks the whole question of the chapter. The accounts of the fault come one after another. Mr. Gardiner reasons that Wickham’s “temptation is not adequate to the risk”, and Elizabeth brightens “for a moment”. Elizabeth says Lydia “has never been taught to think on serious subjects” and that Wickham might count on her father’s “indolence and the little attention he has ever seemed to give to what was going forward in his family”; on the road she is “Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach”, and later tells Jane, “had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him, this could not have happened!” Jane answers that “to expose the former faults of any person, without knowing what their present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable.” Mrs. Bennet blames the Forsters: “Why did the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight?” The narrator says she blames “everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her daughter must be principally owing”. Mary whispers “that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable”. And Lydia’s note blames no one: “What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing.” She also asks that Sally “mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown”. The card does not decide whether Elizabeth’s and Jane’s silence caused the flight; the two sisters disagree and the chapter does not settle it. Nor does it say whether Lydia and Wickham will marry.
One reading
Elizabeth’s. Hers is the widest account: she blames Wickham, a home where Lydia “has been allowed” to live for “amusement and vanity”, a father who gave “little attention” to his family, and, hardest of all, herself. Lydia’s note bears her out line by line: a girl who thinks running off “no harm” and a “good joke” is a girl never “taught to think on serious subjects”. On this reading the most just account is the one that spares no one, its speaker least of all.
she has never been taught to think on serious subjects
Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach
Another reading
The narrator’s. Every speaker in the chapter has a stake: Mrs. Bennet blames the Forsters, Mary lays it on a woman’s failure to guard herself, Elizabeth blames her own silence, which Jane defends as kept “with the best intentions”. Only the narrator stands outside, and the narrator’s sentence is the plainest in the chapter: the errors are “principally owing” to Mrs. Bennet’s “ill-judging indulgence”. Mrs. Bennet’s own talk proves it as she speaks, with “poor dear Lydia”, money for wedding clothes and the best warehouses. On this reading the narrator’s verdict is the just one, and the word “principally” leaves room for the others without letting the mother off.
blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her daughter must be principally owing
she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had been well looked after
Listen for
- Notices that Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth both say, in different ways, that Lydia was not looked after, and asks how far apart they really are.
- Hears that Elizabeth blames her father aloud and herself in silence, and then cries “My poor father! how he must have felt it!”
- Weighs Jane’s answer about the sisters’ silence, “We acted with the best intentions”, against Elizabeth’s “this could not have happened!”, without deciding that the silence caused the flight.
- Asks why almost no account blames Lydia herself, and whether her note, which feels no shame, should change that.
If stuck
- Make a list: whom does each person in the chapter blame?
- Whose blame comes from the narrator, not from a character?
- When something goes wrong in a family, can the fault belong to more than one person at once?
A strong answer A strong response might argue that Elizabeth’s account is the most just, because it reaches furthest: Wickham, a home where Lydia “has been allowed” everything, a father’s “indolence”, and her own silence, and Lydia’s laughing note shows a girl never “taught to think on serious subjects”. Key evidence to consider includes the narrator’s own verdict, that the errors are “principally owing” to Mrs. Bennet’s “ill-judging indulgence”, which points, without a name, to the one person Elizabeth never names. The strongest objection is that the narrator alone has no stake in the matter, while Elizabeth’s grief makes her take on a fault Jane only half grants, and her account, like her mother’s, says almost nothing of Lydia’s own choice. A revised thesis might hold that the narrator’s verdict is the most just on the household, that Elizabeth’s is the most honest about herself, and that the note, which treats the flight as “a good joke”, leaves a share of the fault with Lydia that none of them is willing to name.
Vocabulary definitions
- sanguine
- benevolence
The sanguine hope of good, however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yet deserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father, to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announce the marriage.
Goodwill; a settled wish for good to others (from Latin bene, well, and volens, wishing; compare benefit and malevolence, its opposite). Here the narrator names it as the source of Jane’s hope: “the benevolence of her heart suggested” it. Jane hopes well because she wishes well, and Elizabeth’s question, “Of whom does Jane ever think ill?”, leaves the reader to decide whether that is a virtue or a blindness.- exceptionable
“Well, then,--supposing them to be in London--they may be there, though for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptionable purpose.
Open to objection; that a decent person would take exception to. It is not the same as exceptional, which means unusual. Mr. Gardiner hopes the pair are in London only to hide until they can marry, “for no more exceptionable purpose”: a polite way of not naming the worse purpose everyone fears. The word lets him reason about disgrace without saying the word.- profligate
We both know that he has been profligate in every sense of the word; that he has neither integrity nor honour; that he is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating.
Wildly wasteful, or shamelessly immoral, or both (from Latin profligare, to ruin). Elizabeth says Wickham is profligate “in every sense of the word”, so she means both: he wastes money and he has no morals. The chapter bears out the first sense when Jane reports that he is said to have left Meryton “greatly in debt”, and the second is what the family fears.- solicitude
Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to oppose it; for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it better that one only of the household, and the one whom they could most trust, should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.
Anxious care or concern for someone or something (related to solicitous, anxious to help). Mrs. Bennet’s “fears and solicitude” about Lydia are real, but they are kept upstairs, poured out to the housekeeper, because she cannot keep quiet before the servants. The word gives her worry its due even as the family hides it.- condole
she walked here on Wednesday morning to condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters, if they could be of use to us.
To express sympathy to someone in grief or trouble (from Latin con-, with, and dolere, to grieve; the noun is condolence). Lady Lucas walks over “to condole with us”, and Elizabeth answers with the noun: “condolence, insufferable.” The same act is kindness in Jane’s report and an exposure in Elizabeth’s.