Notes

Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy. “But I can assure you,” she added, “that Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there. I quite detest the man.

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite
of great opposition of character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the
easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper, though no disposition
could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he
never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy’s regard, Bingley had the firmest reliance, and of his judgement the highest opinion.
In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means
deficient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not
inviting. In that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley
was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually
10
giving offense



“I beg you would not put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by his
ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man, that it would be quite
a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he
sat close to her for half-an-hour without once opening his lips.”
“Are you quite sure, ma’am?—is not there a little mistake?” said
Jane. “I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her.”
“Aye—because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and
he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite angry
at being spoke to.”
“Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much, unless among his intimate acquaintances. With them he is remarkably
agreeable.”
“I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very
agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how
it was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he
had heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had
come to the ball in a hack chaise.”
“I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,” said Miss Lucas, “but
I wish he had danced with Eliza.”
“Another time, Lizzy,” said her mother, “I would not dance with
him, if I were you.”
“I believe, ma’am, I may safely promise you never to dance with
12
him.”
“His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend me so much as pride
often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so
very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour,
should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to
be proud.”
“That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive
his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”
“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of
her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have
ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human
nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who
do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things,
though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be
proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came
with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a
pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day.”
“Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said
Mrs. Bennet; “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your
bottle directly.”
The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that
she would, and the argument ended only with the visit.