PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: HUMOR

Pride and Prejudice is an extremely funny novel, but most students miss the humor because of difficulty with the language. Close examination of Austen’s ironic and scathing treatment of specific characters and scenes in the novel not only helps to clarify the novel’s major themes, but also makes Pride and Prejudice an enjoyable experience.


The novel is sarcastic from its opening line: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife” (1). This is obviously not true—as any major movie star or rock singer can attest. Austen is ironically stating that when a young, rich, single man is in the neighborhood, people are always trying to set him up with a girl, whether or not he wants to be. This is because, as Austen notes, once he moves into a neighborhood, he becomes the "rightful property” of the girls of the area. This idea of targeting available young men for marriage is the central topic of the novel, as every family in Hertfordshire is attempting to hitch up Mr. Bingley to their daughters. This line also shows the desperation of the families in attempting to attain wealth and connections at all costs.


The first declared victim of this targeting mentality, Mrs. Bennet, is one of the funniest (and the stupidest) characters in Pride and Prejudice. In Chapter 1, Mrs. Bennet is completely oblivious to Mr. Bennet’s sarcasm because she is incapable of understanding anything remotely intelligent, and she is completely fixated on the idea of Mr. Bingley, the latest rich and available young man to move into the neighborhood. Mr. Bennett teases Mrs. Bennet by telling her that there is no need for him to introduce himself to Bingley, which there really is, as the societal rules of the time dictated that the father of a family must first introduce themselves to a new neighbor (especially a male) before the rest of the family was permitted to visit. The teasing comes to a head when Mrs. Bennet exclaims that Mr. Bennet has no regard for her delicate nerves, to which he replies: “You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least” (2). In reality, Mr. Bennet has no respect for his wife’s feelings at all because she is so ridiculous. Austen clarifies this shortly hereafter, when she describes the Bennets as a couple:


Mr. Bennet was odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three and twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news (3).


In other words, Mr. Bennet is a smart aleck and Mrs. Bennet is a whiny hypochondriac whose only goals in life are getting her daughters married and gossip. This is indicative of both characters throughout the novel: anything that comes out of Mr. Bennet’s mouth is sarcastic and/or insulting, and whatever Mrs. Bennet says is idiotic and loud. This mismatch of tempers and abilities highlights one of the novel’s most significant themes, the concept of a good match as a unity of similar characters and temperaments as opposed to marriage for the sake of attraction.


Unfortunately, the Bennet marriage also exemplifies another warning from Austen—the ramifications of a bad match on children. The Bennets’ inability to understand each other and get along results in Mr. Bennet’s neglect of his three youngest daughters: Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. He leaves them to his wife to raise because after his patience has worn out after Jane and Elizabeth, and this neglect is what makes these three girls so “silly.” Lydia is an airheaded flirt whose selfishness nearly ruins everything for all of her sisters, and Kitty is a nervous wreck who is far too easily influenced by Lydia’s lead. However, the oldest of the three silly girls, Mary, is another source of amusement in the novel. Mary is sarcastically introduced in the novel by her father, who facetiously appeals to the “wisdom” that she has gathered from great amounts of reading: “’What say you, Mary? For you are a young lady of deep reflection, I know, and read great books, and make extracts’” (4). Despite reflecting deeply and reading always, Mary has no ability to apply the knowledge she has gathered, and is just as much of an idiot as her mother is. Austen demonstrates this immediately with Mary’s lack of a response to her father’s taunt: “Mary wished to say something very sensible, but knew not how.” This is Mary’s problem throughout the novel, as she says a great many things, but absolutely none of them are sensible. Another example of this occurs after Elizabeth finishes playing the piano at the second gathering of the novel, where she is quickly succeeded by Mary, who devours any chance at attention even though she cannot sing. Austen then describes Mary more thoroughly:


Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her application [perseverance], it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing half so well (17).


Mary’s vanity and know-it-all attitude make her intolerable to everyone around her, but it is the result of the neglect of her father, who could have taught her proper manners and could have helped in her education, as he had done with Jane and Elizabeth. Elizabeth notes this failing in her father later on in the novel, reminding us that the consequence of a bad match is often miserable and neglected children.


Another of Austen’s humor targets is Mr. Collins. With the possible exception of Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Collins is the biggest buffoon of Pride and Prejudice. His letter of introduction in the novel makes his silliness obvious:


[F]or having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh...whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship, and be very ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England (47).


Mr. Collins sees his primary job as Lady Catherine’s doormat (which is a good thing, since she is determined to treat him and every other character in the novel that way), and will also force himself to baptize, marry, and bury the members of his parish whenever time permits. Both Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet immediately recognize that he may not necessarily be “sensible,” and their assessment is justified when Mr. Collins arrives shortly thereafter. He constantly praises everything, down to the most minute piece of furniture. He also apologizes profusely for the smallest thing, a habit appreciated by no one except Mary and Mrs. Bennet. His constant remarks of admiration for Lady Catherine, whose condescension and sheer rudeness equal the money she possesses, irritate virtually everyone around him.


One of the best examples of the failings of Mr. Collins and of humor in the novel in general is Mr. Collins’ proposal to Elizabeth. When Mr. Collins asks Mrs. Bennet for a private word with Elizabeth, Elizabeth tries to avoid being alone with him by first saying that no one needs to leave, and then tries to leave the room herself, but is stayed by her mother’s order. Then Mr. Collins begins his declarations of love for Elizabeth: “’Almost as soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my future life’” (80). This statement is false, since he initially shows interest in Jane and only makes up his mind for Elizabeth when Mrs. Bennet tells him that Jane is practically engaged to Bingley. He then proceeds to list his reasons for marrying, all of which basically boil down to the fact that Lady Catherine told him he should, which is hardly romantic. He also goes so far as to say that the best thing about marrying him is that Elizabeth will get to be near Lady Catherine herself, which, in Mr. Collins’ mind, is the ultimate reason to marry anyone. Elizabeth is, not surprisingly, not enticed by this proposal, and refuses Mr. Collins. This hilarious and awkward scenario, a primer on what not to do when one proposes, is also a reminder to Austen’s audience that the only reason to marry anyone is for true love—love that is based on understanding and equality of mind and character, not love of status or beauty. Unfortunately, Mr. Collins is so dense that he does not believe Elizabeth, and therefore persists several more times before he finally gives up his suit and proposes to Charlotte Lucas, who he does not even know. This point is exemplified later through the Collins’ marriage, as Charlotte is completely miserable and must encourage her husband to be away from her as much as possible.


There are many other examples of humor in this novel. From Darcy and Elizabeth’s verbal war to the nonsensical behavior of the sillier characters in the novel, Austen’s use of irony, both verbal and situational, makes her examination of the rules of courtship and society a joy to read, and her style also emphasizes her major points. Pride and Prejudice is the perfect example of humor’s ability to teach important lessons about life.