Suspense, narrative omniscience, and love in Pride and Prejudice
Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen, is a novel of suspense. It operates on one basic question: will Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy marry? This question motivates the plot, and the novel ends when it is answered in the affirmative. Yet despite this, it isn’t a particularly suspenseful novel. Even as the possibility of marriage between Elizabeth and Darcy is imperilled, the reader knows that the two will eventually return each other’s love and marry. This certainty emerges from the intimacy of the narrator with the thoughts, emotions, and experiences of the characters. In her earlier novels, Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility, the narrator is not so omniscient, and the characters are left a greater degree of mystery. In Pride and Prejudice, the reader is usually well-informed about the experiences of the characters. The narrator’s omniscience suspends the suspense of the novel, allowing the reader’s attention to focus elsewhere, and drawing it back to romance when the omniscience fails.
Elizabeth and Darcy begin their relationship badly, but their dislike does not exist mutually for very long. When Bingley suggests that Darcy should dance with Elizabeth, Darcy says,
"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me." (12)
Despite its cruelty, or perhaps because of it, this speech foreshadows the love that Darcy will soon feel for Elizabeth. He knows nothing of her personality and he does not approve her looks; however, once he is later acquainted with her amiability and wit, he becomes appreciative of her beauty. He says that he is “in no humour at present” to associate with or pursue Elizabeth, but that implies a temporality to his disinclination. Elizabeth is no more pleased with him, after being so insulted, and “remained with no very cordial feelings towards him” (12). They’ve only just met, but the reader is already informed clearly about the state of their feelings toward each other. Although initially, this dislike doesn’t seem promising for their love, it is interesting that the dislike emerges out of a romantic situation. They cannot like each other because they are determined not to be in love with one another. But soon afterwards, Elizabeth “herself [is] becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of [Bingley’s] friend” (23). Darcy’s dislike– or at least, neutrality towards her– lasts for only a few days, at the most. He begins their acquaintance by criticizing her appearance, “But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes” (23). Elizabeth remains as opposed to him as she was before, for “to her he was only the man who had made himself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with” (23). The reader is kept very aware of the feelings of the characters and the way in which those feelings change. The suspense perhaps created by their mutual dislike is weakened by the knowledge that it no longer exists for one of the characters.
After this point, the reader is always aware at least one of the two characters being in love, and most often, that character is Darcy. Darcy, although unappealing at the beginning of the novel, is essentially an attractive man. Because the main character is Elizabeth, whom the reader can identify with, it seems like the relationship is more probable if Darcy is the character whose love is assured. Darcy’s love continues to grow, exposed through his thoughts and conversation, and sometimes conversation about his thoughts. Darcy is honest, and although he seems aware of Miss Bingley’s intentions toward him, tells her, “I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow” (27). The reader is aware of his interest in Elizabeth’s beauty, and the banter they enjoy while she stays at Netherfield to nurse Jane during her illness implies a mental engagement as well. Darcy’s feelings soon become even stronger than they previously were, and he realizes that he “had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were in not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger” (52). This “danger” is “the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention” (58). When he has a conversation with her, he becomes more and more aware of her intelligence, wit, and liveliness. Although he thinks that the combination of avoiding her and always being aware of her low connections will keep him safe from loving Elizabeth, the reader is aware that he already is in love. He finally cannot restrain it anymore and proposes to her.
Elizabeth refuses Darcy, but the danger to their love and marriage is soon put out of the way. She is offended at his rudeness when he tells her of “His sense of her inferiority– of its being a degradation” (189). She accuses him of pride, destroying her sister’s possible happiness with Bingley, and injuring Wickham. His response to this is to give her the letter explaining the truth of his relationship with Wickham the next day. Immediately after reading the letter, Elizabeth feels “that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd” (208). The first moment of her feelings changing is in her knowledge that she had been prejudiced. It is difficult to say whether she is now unprejudiced, or whether her prejudice has just shifted to Darcy rather than Wickham, but she begins to feel kindness and then love for Darcy. She is touched when she sees his generosity and the ways in which he changes for her. The narrator tells the reader, “If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth’s change of sentiment will be neither improbable or faulty” (279). She has undergone a “change of sentiment” from hatred to this ambiguous “affection.” However, the ambiguity of her “affection” makes it clear to the reader that what she is experiencing is love, if a complex one; it is amalgamated from her gratitude for his good deeds, attraction to him physically and mentally, and even desire to be mistress of Pemberley and financially secure. Elizabeth sometimes doubts whether Darcy could still be in love after proposing and being rejected, but when he does so much good for her family and seems to have undergone a true change, she knows that “to love, ardent love, it must be attributed” (266). Elizabeth, the narrator, and the reader all know that Mr. Darcy is still in love. This is verified near the end of the novel, when Darcy says to her, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever” (366). Elizabeth is finally able to say of Darcy near this point in the book, “I love him” (376). She accepts his second proposal and they marry. The conclusion of the story is an expected one, never truly in doubt, because the narrator gives the reader such security and access to the emotions of the characters. Except for the beginning of the book, the reader is always assured of at least one of the two characters being in love, creating a sense that eventually the other character will return that love.
This method is used again in Elizabeth’s relationship with Mr. Collins. The narrator is equally straightforward in revealing Mr. Collins’s intentions and his plan to propose to Elizabeth. When he comes to Longbourn, “he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters” (70). There is no confusion. The reader cannot possibly misunderstand Mr. Collins’s intentions, and he is so obvious about it, the other characters do not either. He first chooses Jane, for her beauty, and approaches Mrs. Bennet about it. However, Mrs. Bennet tells him of Jane’s attachment to Bingley, and so Mr. Collins “had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth– and it was soon done [...]. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course” (71). Mr. Collin’s courtship of Elizabeth is, like the rest of his behavior, marked by pomposity and romanticism lacking the support of real emotion. He is so overt about it that his attentions to Elizabeth soon convince her “that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors” (88). As with Elizabeth’s relationship with Darcy, the knowledge of the emotions of both characters leads to a certainty of outcome. The reader knows that Elizabeth will not be surprised by Mr. Collins’s proposal, and the irony of her thoughts informs the reader that she does not think kindly of it. She will not accept when he does propose, and indeed, the resulting scene is exactly as the reader would expect. The creation of this relationship works as a foil to that between Elizabeth and Darcy. If Elizabeth’s feelings toward Mr. Collins had the possibility of changing, then their relationship might also have promise. But the omniscience of the narrator allows the reader to look at why Elizabeth will reject Mr. Collins; unlike Darcy, he lacks any romantic appeal and any ability to change for the better.
These relationships all reach their logical conclusions of a proposal, which is either accept or refused. But what happens when a relationship is aborted without ever reaching this stage? In Pride and Prejudice, almost all possible relationships end in a proposal. Jane and Bingley are finally engaged and married. Lydia’s general interest in soldiers is embodied in Wickham, and after Darcy’s persuasion, their elopement ends in marriage. Mr. Collins proposes to Charlotte Lucas and they marry. But it is this last relationship which is troubling. It is not based on love, like the marriages of Jane and Bingley, or Elizabeth and Darcy. Charlotte is practical, and her happiness is entirely rooted in financial security and the possibility of avoiding her husband as much as possible. Mr. Collins may be in love with Charlotte, but she is certainly not in love with him. Does a marriage of convenience produce the same happiness for Charlotte that a marriage of love produces for Elizabeth? Perhaps it may. The reader might even accept this, if it weren’t for one last question: could another marriage of love have been possible? After Mr. Collins has been rejected by Elizabeth, the narrator notes that if he
"thought of paying his addresses to one of [Mrs. Bennet’s] younger girls, [...] Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as her’s, he might become a very agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was done away." (124)
Whose hope is this, Mrs. Bennet’s or Mary’s? Mary seems like the perfect wife for Mr. Collins, because they are so much alike. In Austen’s novels, husbands and wives are considered well-matched if they can teach and learn from one another, but are generally equal in breeding, intelligence, and talent. Mary and Mr. Collins are so base and comic, however, that any spouse that could significantly improve them would be far above their level. The best alternative, then, is in a marriage where they could find love regardless of the author’s judgments on their combined stupidity and vulgarity. Mary believes that they would be an ideal couple, based on the definition of being well-matched in Austen’s novel, because Mr. Collins could “improve himself by such an example as her’s.” Even if it weren’t true, they would believe themselves to be prosperous, happy, and in love. As the reader knows, Mary and Mr. Collins both find the greatest comfort in false appearances. They would be very pompous, but pleased in each other’s pomposity.
This marriage does not happen, and the narrator’s approach to it is very different than her approach to the other two possible relationships. At this point, the reader already knows that Mr. Collins is courting Charlotte. Mary’s interest in Mr. Collins is parallel to Mr. Collins’s interest in Elizabeth, with interest on one side but not on the other. Rather than continuing to inform the reader of Mary’s feelings after she hears of the engagement, the narrator completely removes her from the action:
"Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton." (127)
Elizabeth’s reaction has already been seen when Charlotte tells her the news personally. The only sister whose reaction we do not see, then, is Mary’s. Why is this? It seems to be a conscious decision on the part of the narrator, to so obviously exclude her from all of the sisters’s impressions of the marriage. We have been so intimately involved in the feelings of the characters, that it is surprising to suddenly not have access to the feelings of one who might actually be hurt by the proceedings. Is it because Mary has no feelings to expose on the matter? If so, the non-inclusion of her reaction may indicate that her character is even more shallow and serious than the reader earlier believed. However, it may be a movement of repentance on the part of the narrator. All of the other relationships hinted at end with marriage. In Mary’s expectation of Mr. Collins’s courtship, the reader is given a similar kind of expectation about the outcome of a relationship, as he or she has been given for Elizabeth and Darcy or Elizabeth and Mr. Collins. This expectation is disappointed, and perhaps the narrator’s sudden withdrawal from the emotions of the character is to lessen the impact on the reader, and to give the character some privacy in her private mourning.
The omniscience of the narrator, then, is a way of creating and alleviating suspense in the romances of the novel. The greater intimacy of the narrator with the characters acts as a lens for viewing the events of the novel. When the reader is secure in the outcome of a situation, like Mr. Collins’s courtship of Elizabeth, he or she can focus on other aspects of that relationship. The reader may ask why he or she knows that Elizabeth will reject Mr. Collins, and what in his character makes that so decided. When the reader is not secure in the outcome, as when he or she is disappointed in Mary’s interest in Mr. Collins, it creates questions about the narrator herself. Why is she omniscient? What does this omniscience do? And, finally, how does that omniscience affect the characters and the reader’s own relationship with those characters?
WORKS CITED
Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982.
Elizabeth and Darcy begin their relationship badly, but their dislike does not exist mutually for very long. When Bingley suggests that Darcy should dance with Elizabeth, Darcy says,
"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me." (12)
Despite its cruelty, or perhaps because of it, this speech foreshadows the love that Darcy will soon feel for Elizabeth. He knows nothing of her personality and he does not approve her looks; however, once he is later acquainted with her amiability and wit, he becomes appreciative of her beauty. He says that he is “in no humour at present” to associate with or pursue Elizabeth, but that implies a temporality to his disinclination. Elizabeth is no more pleased with him, after being so insulted, and “remained with no very cordial feelings towards him” (12). They’ve only just met, but the reader is already informed clearly about the state of their feelings toward each other. Although initially, this dislike doesn’t seem promising for their love, it is interesting that the dislike emerges out of a romantic situation. They cannot like each other because they are determined not to be in love with one another. But soon afterwards, Elizabeth “herself [is] becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of [Bingley’s] friend” (23). Darcy’s dislike– or at least, neutrality towards her– lasts for only a few days, at the most. He begins their acquaintance by criticizing her appearance, “But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes” (23). Elizabeth remains as opposed to him as she was before, for “to her he was only the man who had made himself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with” (23). The reader is kept very aware of the feelings of the characters and the way in which those feelings change. The suspense perhaps created by their mutual dislike is weakened by the knowledge that it no longer exists for one of the characters.
After this point, the reader is always aware at least one of the two characters being in love, and most often, that character is Darcy. Darcy, although unappealing at the beginning of the novel, is essentially an attractive man. Because the main character is Elizabeth, whom the reader can identify with, it seems like the relationship is more probable if Darcy is the character whose love is assured. Darcy’s love continues to grow, exposed through his thoughts and conversation, and sometimes conversation about his thoughts. Darcy is honest, and although he seems aware of Miss Bingley’s intentions toward him, tells her, “I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow” (27). The reader is aware of his interest in Elizabeth’s beauty, and the banter they enjoy while she stays at Netherfield to nurse Jane during her illness implies a mental engagement as well. Darcy’s feelings soon become even stronger than they previously were, and he realizes that he “had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were in not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger” (52). This “danger” is “the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention” (58). When he has a conversation with her, he becomes more and more aware of her intelligence, wit, and liveliness. Although he thinks that the combination of avoiding her and always being aware of her low connections will keep him safe from loving Elizabeth, the reader is aware that he already is in love. He finally cannot restrain it anymore and proposes to her.
Elizabeth refuses Darcy, but the danger to their love and marriage is soon put out of the way. She is offended at his rudeness when he tells her of “His sense of her inferiority– of its being a degradation” (189). She accuses him of pride, destroying her sister’s possible happiness with Bingley, and injuring Wickham. His response to this is to give her the letter explaining the truth of his relationship with Wickham the next day. Immediately after reading the letter, Elizabeth feels “that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd” (208). The first moment of her feelings changing is in her knowledge that she had been prejudiced. It is difficult to say whether she is now unprejudiced, or whether her prejudice has just shifted to Darcy rather than Wickham, but she begins to feel kindness and then love for Darcy. She is touched when she sees his generosity and the ways in which he changes for her. The narrator tells the reader, “If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth’s change of sentiment will be neither improbable or faulty” (279). She has undergone a “change of sentiment” from hatred to this ambiguous “affection.” However, the ambiguity of her “affection” makes it clear to the reader that what she is experiencing is love, if a complex one; it is amalgamated from her gratitude for his good deeds, attraction to him physically and mentally, and even desire to be mistress of Pemberley and financially secure. Elizabeth sometimes doubts whether Darcy could still be in love after proposing and being rejected, but when he does so much good for her family and seems to have undergone a true change, she knows that “to love, ardent love, it must be attributed” (266). Elizabeth, the narrator, and the reader all know that Mr. Darcy is still in love. This is verified near the end of the novel, when Darcy says to her, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever” (366). Elizabeth is finally able to say of Darcy near this point in the book, “I love him” (376). She accepts his second proposal and they marry. The conclusion of the story is an expected one, never truly in doubt, because the narrator gives the reader such security and access to the emotions of the characters. Except for the beginning of the book, the reader is always assured of at least one of the two characters being in love, creating a sense that eventually the other character will return that love.
This method is used again in Elizabeth’s relationship with Mr. Collins. The narrator is equally straightforward in revealing Mr. Collins’s intentions and his plan to propose to Elizabeth. When he comes to Longbourn, “he intended to marry; and in seeking a reconciliation with the Longbourn family he had a wife in view, as he meant to choose one of the daughters” (70). There is no confusion. The reader cannot possibly misunderstand Mr. Collins’s intentions, and he is so obvious about it, the other characters do not either. He first chooses Jane, for her beauty, and approaches Mrs. Bennet about it. However, Mrs. Bennet tells him of Jane’s attachment to Bingley, and so Mr. Collins “had only to change from Jane to Elizabeth– and it was soon done [...]. Elizabeth, equally next to Jane in birth and beauty, succeeded her of course” (71). Mr. Collin’s courtship of Elizabeth is, like the rest of his behavior, marked by pomposity and romanticism lacking the support of real emotion. He is so overt about it that his attentions to Elizabeth soon convince her “that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being the mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors” (88). As with Elizabeth’s relationship with Darcy, the knowledge of the emotions of both characters leads to a certainty of outcome. The reader knows that Elizabeth will not be surprised by Mr. Collins’s proposal, and the irony of her thoughts informs the reader that she does not think kindly of it. She will not accept when he does propose, and indeed, the resulting scene is exactly as the reader would expect. The creation of this relationship works as a foil to that between Elizabeth and Darcy. If Elizabeth’s feelings toward Mr. Collins had the possibility of changing, then their relationship might also have promise. But the omniscience of the narrator allows the reader to look at why Elizabeth will reject Mr. Collins; unlike Darcy, he lacks any romantic appeal and any ability to change for the better.
These relationships all reach their logical conclusions of a proposal, which is either accept or refused. But what happens when a relationship is aborted without ever reaching this stage? In Pride and Prejudice, almost all possible relationships end in a proposal. Jane and Bingley are finally engaged and married. Lydia’s general interest in soldiers is embodied in Wickham, and after Darcy’s persuasion, their elopement ends in marriage. Mr. Collins proposes to Charlotte Lucas and they marry. But it is this last relationship which is troubling. It is not based on love, like the marriages of Jane and Bingley, or Elizabeth and Darcy. Charlotte is practical, and her happiness is entirely rooted in financial security and the possibility of avoiding her husband as much as possible. Mr. Collins may be in love with Charlotte, but she is certainly not in love with him. Does a marriage of convenience produce the same happiness for Charlotte that a marriage of love produces for Elizabeth? Perhaps it may. The reader might even accept this, if it weren’t for one last question: could another marriage of love have been possible? After Mr. Collins has been rejected by Elizabeth, the narrator notes that if he
"thought of paying his addresses to one of [Mrs. Bennet’s] younger girls, [...] Mary might have been prevailed on to accept him. She rated his abilities much higher than any of the others; there was a solidity in his reflections which often struck her, and though by no means so clever as herself, she thought that if encouraged to read and improve himself by such an example as her’s, he might become a very agreeable companion. But on the following morning, every hope of this kind was done away." (124)
Whose hope is this, Mrs. Bennet’s or Mary’s? Mary seems like the perfect wife for Mr. Collins, because they are so much alike. In Austen’s novels, husbands and wives are considered well-matched if they can teach and learn from one another, but are generally equal in breeding, intelligence, and talent. Mary and Mr. Collins are so base and comic, however, that any spouse that could significantly improve them would be far above their level. The best alternative, then, is in a marriage where they could find love regardless of the author’s judgments on their combined stupidity and vulgarity. Mary believes that they would be an ideal couple, based on the definition of being well-matched in Austen’s novel, because Mr. Collins could “improve himself by such an example as her’s.” Even if it weren’t true, they would believe themselves to be prosperous, happy, and in love. As the reader knows, Mary and Mr. Collins both find the greatest comfort in false appearances. They would be very pompous, but pleased in each other’s pomposity.
This marriage does not happen, and the narrator’s approach to it is very different than her approach to the other two possible relationships. At this point, the reader already knows that Mr. Collins is courting Charlotte. Mary’s interest in Mr. Collins is parallel to Mr. Collins’s interest in Elizabeth, with interest on one side but not on the other. Rather than continuing to inform the reader of Mary’s feelings after she hears of the engagement, the narrator completely removes her from the action:
"Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton." (127)
Elizabeth’s reaction has already been seen when Charlotte tells her the news personally. The only sister whose reaction we do not see, then, is Mary’s. Why is this? It seems to be a conscious decision on the part of the narrator, to so obviously exclude her from all of the sisters’s impressions of the marriage. We have been so intimately involved in the feelings of the characters, that it is surprising to suddenly not have access to the feelings of one who might actually be hurt by the proceedings. Is it because Mary has no feelings to expose on the matter? If so, the non-inclusion of her reaction may indicate that her character is even more shallow and serious than the reader earlier believed. However, it may be a movement of repentance on the part of the narrator. All of the other relationships hinted at end with marriage. In Mary’s expectation of Mr. Collins’s courtship, the reader is given a similar kind of expectation about the outcome of a relationship, as he or she has been given for Elizabeth and Darcy or Elizabeth and Mr. Collins. This expectation is disappointed, and perhaps the narrator’s sudden withdrawal from the emotions of the character is to lessen the impact on the reader, and to give the character some privacy in her private mourning.
The omniscience of the narrator, then, is a way of creating and alleviating suspense in the romances of the novel. The greater intimacy of the narrator with the characters acts as a lens for viewing the events of the novel. When the reader is secure in the outcome of a situation, like Mr. Collins’s courtship of Elizabeth, he or she can focus on other aspects of that relationship. The reader may ask why he or she knows that Elizabeth will reject Mr. Collins, and what in his character makes that so decided. When the reader is not secure in the outcome, as when he or she is disappointed in Mary’s interest in Mr. Collins, it creates questions about the narrator herself. Why is she omniscient? What does this omniscience do? And, finally, how does that omniscience affect the characters and the reader’s own relationship with those characters?
WORKS CITED
Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982.
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