Pride-and-Prejudice

and rank she thought she could witness without trepidation” (p. 161). In the
society of this novel, talent and manners—that is, truly good breeding, rather
than affectation—ultimately trump birth and social connections. Even Mr.
Darcy endorses this view, as Elizabeth observes. Indeed, when the lovers
finally reconcile their differences, Elizabeth teases Darcy that her
“impertinence” appeals to him because he is “sick of civility, of deference, of
officious attention” (p. 367). Darcy’s ennui, however, should be taken not as a
tacit authorization of a new democratic outlook but rather of a meritocratic
one. That is, the values of the gentry and the aristocracy are reinforced even
as their membership becomes infused with the blood of the professional
classes, which would seem to undermine the restrictive claims upon which the
upper classes predicate their existence. The possibility that Mr. Darcy might
marry his frail cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh, in order to consolidate their
estates is presented as an outmoded aristocratic notion, not to be taken
seriously by the new generation.
What makes the lovers’ attitudes possible is that the real consequences of
social rank are diminished by the conventions of romantic comedy. A typical
feature of the comic novel is that powerful social distinctions upheld in
everyday life tend to be suspended in an effort to further the plot. Within the
safe space of the novel, such comic upheavals create exciting possibilities for
minor social transgressions; at the same time, in the novel’s conclusion, the
existing order becomes reaffirmed. In this case, the reaffirmation happens as
Elizabeth becomes absorbed into Darcy’s world. It is standard comic fare that
the potentially formidable member of the ruling class who might prevent the
budding romance— here, Lady Catherine—turns out to be a relatively
powerless busybody who depends on weak-minded followers to reinforce her
sense of her own importance. Lady Catherine, in fact, resembles the stock
type of aging woman tenaciously clinging to her diminished power, a familiar
character found in Restoration comic drama, as well as in the mid-eighteenthcentury
novels of Henry Fielding and Samuel Richardson.
Whatever its social and comic implications, the marriage plot is the chief
concern throughout the novel, and there is a sense of urgency about forging
the right unions that motivates the action of the entire book. The ironic
opening gambit—“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife”—rehearses the
epigrammatic wisdom of a gossip-driven community comprising women like
Mrs. Bennet, who is herself eager to enhance the prestige of her family by
marrying her daughters well. Prestige and social connection, however, are not
the only motivating forces in this neighborhood or within the Bennet