Beyond Drawing-Room
Conversation: Letters in Pride and Prejudice.
by Laura Rowe
Conversation in Jane Austen’s world was much more formal than ours
today. Propriety dictated strict limits on subjects of conversation and
specific conditions under which a young lady could speak to a young gentleman.
These binding codes of manners made it hard to know what people were actually
thinking behind their masks of politeness. This is the central problem faced by
Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice. In order to choose the best
husband and secure her future happiness, she must detect the true character and
morals of her suitors, the smooth-talking Mr. Wickham and the taciturn Mr.
Darcy. Her drawing-room conversations with them are too restricted to show her
the truth. Throughout the course of the story, letters are presented as a more
effective form of communication than ordinary conversation.
When
members of genteel society meet in Austen’s times, polite small talk is
required, such as inquiring after the health of family members and mutual
friends, and commenting on the weather. In letters, however, Austen’s
characters are able to escape this “code of manners [which] provides disguise
as readily as expression” (Price, 166). When Jane journeys to London in the
course of the book, the first letter that she writes to Elizabeth begins, “My
dearest Lizzy will, I am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better
judgement, at my expense, when I confess myself to have been entirely deceived
in Miss Bingley’s regard for me” (Austen, 101). She plunges in the first
sentence into the main subject of the letter, omitting any fluffy small talk.
Similarly, when Jane writes Elizabeth about Lydia’s elopement, she immediately
informs her that “something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious
nature” (Austen, 182). Mr. Darcy also ignores convention in the first
paragraphs of his letter to Elizabeth, “If in the explanation of [my motives] I
am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I
can only say that I am sorry. – The
necessity must be obeyed, and farther apology would be absurd” (Austen, 134).
He provides only as much apology as is necessary for courtesy, and then gets
down to business. He is able to do this in a letter because it is private, and
he does not have to worry about what people would think.
Letters
also permit more intimacy than polite conversation. When Mr. Darcy writes his
letter of explanation to Elizabeth, he reveals to her much detail about private
affairs that he probably would never have said in person (Austen, 133-138). He
tells her everything that Wickham has done, including the shameful story of how
he almost eloped with Darcy’s sister Georgiana – something that Darcy has never
told anyone from whom he could keep it. This is extremely uncharacteristic of
the Darcy revealed in conversation in the earlier half of the book. He is not
the kind of man to tell everyone about his personal matters at the slightest
provocation. During the first ball at Netherfield, Elizabeth hints at her
acquaintance with Wickham, but Darcy brushes her off with a restrained comment
about Mr. Wickham’s ability to make friends and then makes clear by his silence
that he is not going to continue the subject (Austen, 63). Later, of course, he
tells Elizabeth all about his relationship with Wickham, choosing to do so in a
letter rather than in a conversation. According to Lloyd Brown, “It would be
unnatural for a man of his reserve and sensitivity to make such intimate
revelations in any other form” (Brown, 132). A letter is safer than a
conversation, because no one may overhear or interrupt, as Darcy and Elizabeth
were interrupted in their conversation. Sir William Lucas “stopt … to
compliment [Mr. Darcy] on his dancing and his partner,” effectively breaking
the train of thought (Austen, 63). A letter is safe from such intrusions.
It is
also easier to say exactly what you want in a letter than in a conversation.
When Elizabeth comes home from Hunsford Parsonage after Mr. Darcy has proposed
to her, she waits several days before telling Jane about it, for fear “of being
hurried into repeating something” she did not mean to say (Austen, 147). If
Elizabeth had been able to write a letter to Jane instead of telling her in
person, she would not have been worried about saying more than was wise.
Conversation, however, hindered her in ways that a letter would not have. Darcy
also does not tell Elizabeth the truth about him and Wickham immediately after
she rejects his proposal (Austen, 132). He waits a night to put his thoughts
together and then writes them to her. Instead of writing a letter, he could
have sought her out again and told her face-to-face. However, like Elizabeth
when she comes home, he is afraid of saying too much if he talks of delicate
matters in person, so he doesn’t mention them at all in conversation, but saves
them for letters. It is easier and safer for him to explain them in a letter.
Since in
a letter you may say exactly what you wish, letters can be a more effective way
of lying to someone, or of simply concealing information you don’t want to
discuss. When Miss Bingley writes to Jane after she and her brother have left
Netherfield for good, she attempts to deceive Jane into thinking that Mr.
Bingley has left of his own desire and is soon to marry Miss Darcy (instead of
Jane, as Jane had hoped.). She makes much of Mr. Bingley’s admiration for Miss
Darcy and mentions nothing of the attention he had shown to Jane when he was
there. She also gushingly refers to Jane as “my dearest friend” and claims to
“depend on” Jane for “a very frequent and most unreserved correspondence,”
though through the remainder of the book she makes no effort to keep in touch
with Jane (Austen, 81). It is telling that Miss Bingley made no attempt to call
on Jane before she left, but instead saved the news of her departure for a
letter. She would not be able to give Jane such a convincing impression that
things were as she told them if she had been talking to her face to face. In a
letter all facial expressions, tones of voice, and involuntary reactions like
blushes are eliminated, and she can pick and choose her words and content to
give the impression she wants. This
quality of letters is also seen in the letter Mr. Gardiner writes to inform Mr.
Bennet that Wickham has consented to marry Lydia on surprisingly low terms of
compensation. The truth is that Mr. Darcy has contributed a large amount of
money to bribe Wickham, but Mr. Gardiner omits this fact. Mr. Bennet is
skeptical that Wickham would be convinced with so little money, but he contents
himself by supposing that Mr. Gardiner has contributed more (Austen, 202-203).
If Mr. Bennet were having a conversation with Mr. Gardiner, his questions would
have brought the facts out, but since it is a letter, it is not convenient to
clarify, and Mr. Gardiner gets away with his small subterfuge.
The
last observation about letters is that they entail more commitment than a
verbal opinion or promise. When one has written something down on paper, it is
there in black and white. It will not change and the writer can be held to it.
Elizabeth realizes this while she is reading Mr. Darcy’s letter, and it is one
of the major reasons she believes it, though it goes against all her
preconceived notions. Mr. Darcy has committed himself to the account written
down; there is no opportunity for him to equivocate and pretend he did not say
what he said. At the end of his letter he states, “For the truth of every thing
written here, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel
Fitzwilliam” (Austen, 138). While Elizabeth is debating whether to believe him,
she realizes, “Mr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal, if he had
not been well assured of his cousin’s corroboration” (Austen, 140). Now that
Mr. Darcy has committed himself in a letter, there is a clear account to be
confirmed or not by those who know the facts. A contrast to this comes from Mr.
Wickham. When Elizabeth first met him, he recounted a tale of woe. Mr. Darcy’s
father had bequeathed a living to Wickham, but when the living became open,
“There was just such a legal informality in the terms of the bequest as to give
me no hope from law. A man of honour could not have doubted the intention, but
Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it,” and Wickham was not given the living. (Austen,
54). There is no mention of anything other than clear right on Wickham’s part
and shameful behavior on Mr. Darcy’s. Later on Elizabeth learns the facts, and
she confronts Wickham with them. “I have
heard from authority, … that it was left to you conditionally only, and at the
will of the present patron.” Mr. Wickham at once replies, “Yes, there was
something in that; I told you so from the first, that you may remember.”
(Austen, 220). He had done no such thing! However, since he did not commit
himself in a written letter he cannot be held to account.
In the
end, Elizabeth realizes that behind the mask of manners Mr. Wickham is a rake,
and that Mr. Darcy, though not adept at manners, is a true gentleman. What finally
brings her to this realization is looking beyond the drawing-room conversation,
to Mr. Darcy’s letter, “his personality under hand and seal” (Brown, 133). She
has cracked the code of manners, and done so with the help of letters: the best
way to tell a person’s true thoughts.
Austen,
Jane. Pride and Prejudice. New York: Dover Publications, 1995.
Brown,
Lloyd. “Letters in Pride and Prejudice.” Readings on Pride and Prejudice.
Ed.
Clarice Swisher. San Diego: Greenhaven
Press, 1999.
Price,
Martin. “Austen: Manners and Morals.” Modern Critical Views: Jane Austen. Ed.
Harold Bloom. New York: Chelsea House
Publishers, 1986.