Courage

In the first installment of The Hobbit films, which was recently released in theaters, Gandalf delivers a speech about where we can derive courage. He is discussing the threat of a terrible evil with the elves when he says that it is the little things which little people do everyday that teach him to hope. For Gandalf, the little hobbit Bilbo provides him with great courage.

Sitting in the theater, I found this statement profound regarding the terrible evil which killed school children and teachers in Connecticut two weeks ago. Senseless shootings like this tragedy cause us to fear the world outside and question how safe we assume that we are.

So how does The Hobbit or the national tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut intersect with Pride and Prejudice?

            Well, if it is in the small, courageous actions of everyday people that we derive courage to face evil, then perhaps some of these examples come from our literature too.

Things of beauty, whether a sunset, a painting, a song or a novel possess the ability to dignify those who witness them. Pride and Prejudice dignifies us to continue believing in the ideals of waiting for real love and cherishing sisterhood. (And it also makes us profoundly grateful for real-life mothers who are so vastly superior to Mrs. Bennet.) In a similar way, Lord of the Rings teaches us to keep fighting evil no matter how little we are or how hairy the tops of our toes (that was a poor hobbit joke, in case you were curious).

In the shockwave of the Connecticut murders, another shooting, this time in San Antonio, Texas, that happened only four days later on December 17^th went relatively unnoticed. Reminiscent of the theater shooting in Colorado last July which killed twelve and injured many others, this incident happened at another theater. Reportedly, a gunman entered, ironically enough, a night showing of The Hobbit.

But this time, evil was stopped. The gunman began shooting outside and continued inside the Mayan Palace theater. But an off-duty police officer retaliated, shooting the man four times before anyone else was harmed.

Maybe it’s stories that inspire us to face evil because in stories good can, must and will win. And maybe this gives us courage to believe that the same can happen in real life.

Change

Home for Christmas break, I’ve been realizing how much people change. Family and friends and myself. I can’t always tell whether it is me, the other person or both, but relational dynamics shift.

Near the end of Jane and Lizzy’s stay at Netherfield, Elizabeth and Darcy debate the difference between town and country society. Darcy finds country society “somewhat confined and unvarying.” Elizabeth counters, “But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever.”

            Of course, Mrs. Bennet leaps into the mix, protesting, “I would have him know we dine with four-and-twenty families.” But before this, Lizzy touches on one of the themes of the entire novel.

            People are in a constant state of process. Pride and Prejudice revolves around the change occurring inside both Lizzy and Darcy and their learning about one another. As Lizzy points out, the learning never stops because people never stop growing. Whether interacting with twenty-four families or just two people, “people themselves [will] alter so much, that there [will be] something new to be observed in them forever.”

Double Chivalry

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”

 I attend a small college where this mantra is readily adopted—modified to fit the century, of course. Here we assume, “Every available bachelor must be searching for a mate.” Literally. All of them. Or perhaps even more appropriate, “Every college boy saddled with student loans must be in want of a wife (provided she too can add her own debt to the relationship).”

But seriously, or maybe unseriously, girls come to our little liberal arts school to study for their MRS degree. Don’t laugh. I too thought it was a joke until I arrived here. “Ring by spring, or your tuition refunded. That’s our guarantee.”

Before they renamed the little college, students teased about attending Christian Marritage College, rather than Christian Heritage. One of the student life directors used to joke that on the first day of new student orientation, we should line up all the boys and all the girls so everyone can have a good gawk and check out the prospects because that is essentially what happens the first week of school anyways.

There is an inherently awkward relationship between the two genders. Perhaps because of the assumption that every single man wants a spouse and, as Pride and Prejudice informs us, “However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.”

But perhaps the awkwardness stems from a sort of gap we’ve created between the sexes. Maybe it’s just me, but often times, girls and guys don’t seem to know how to appropriately relate to one another in various social contexts. We either pretend a belief in the others' nonexistence, or the opposite occurs and we dance around giggling, “I think I like you and you might like me, so let us make utter fools out of ourselves.”

P&P does seem primarily composed of the latter option where women and men relate to one another around the marriage question. But I believe beyond the marriage estate, there proves a healthy and necessary way for male and female to rely on each other. Femininity helps to define masculinity and masculinity aids in the characterization of femininity. So why does it prove so very awkward to embrace chivalry and lady-likeness? Is there a way to be fully woman or fully man while single?

I was sitting outside our school library a few weeks ago when I played witness to an adorable occurrence. As three incredibly cute freshmen girls walked towards the double doors, a boy on his way out of the building pushed open one of the doors. Simultaneously, a young man on his way in pulled open the other glass door. The threesome smiled to the right and to the left thanking the courteous gentlemen. One of the young ladies raised a fist in girlish delight and cried, “Yay! Double chivalry.” One of the men smiled, the other chuckled a bit, and I melted right there in my seat.  

For the most part, Darcy and Lizzy interact with each other on an interest/disinterest basis. But when they re-initiate their acquaintance while Elizabeth is visiting his home in Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle, something different happens. Elizabeth sits alone reading the news of Lydia’s elopement until Darcy surprises her with a call. The gentleman becomes distressed by the lady’s distress. He attempts to assist her and then leaves to essentially do battle for her sister.

Questions about gender roles and distorted hierarchies have plagued me a bit this semester.  But the idea of protecting one another and extending courteous or even courtly attention--regardless of any romantic attachment--helps to fill the gap in the question of men and women’s relationship with each other. Whether male or female, we are each human, so it seems that the two should work together. The Darcy's of the world can open doors for the Lizzy's, and the Lizzy's can smile, appreciate and encourage in return.

Just this evening, another fascinating phenomenon happened on campus. One of the boys’ dorms staged a short evening of musical entertainment and service for any of the female students who wished to attend. Cute college girls replaced their finals week sweatpants and hoodies with dresses and heels. They were met in the hallway where two nicely groomed boys met each girl to escort her into the student lounge. Some girls writhed in discomfort at the attention while others gasped, “Awwwe” and soaked it all up. As they entered the lounge, a sign declared, “Welcome, Ladies.” And watching all this commotion, I cheered, “Yay for double chivalry!”

Frightening Pastures

A painting of Jane Austen by her older sister Cassandra.

My relationship with this semester has felt a little like Elizabeth’s relationship with Darcy. When Lizzy’s loathing of that “arrogant,” “conceited” and impossible man begins to abate and she finally realizes the existence of some virtues in his character, it appears too late.

The import of becoming mistress of Pemberley doesn’t dawn until the chance has evaporated. While I haven’t exactly rejected a proposal from an incredibly wealthy Englishman this semester, I did criticize my semester’s seemingly impossible work load and “selfish disdain for the feelings of others.” (Others’ feelings meaning my own preferences).

 Burying my head to withstand sixteen weeks of twenty-one units, I safely promised to never wrestle with that many classes again. Just as Lizzy wishes Mr. Darcy to disappear, I prayed that the fall semester would magically vanish.

Now as final exams prepare to descend, the truism rings in my ears, “Be careful what you wish for.” Vanquishing several term papers this week, I grasp the impending end of a much dreaded season. And as the unwelcome attentions of this semester withdraw and prepare to depart, I slowly understand how good it has really been.

What seemed like the taxing demand of school and work and family and friends and life, now seems virtuous in its fullness. Busyness in hindsight seems less like havoc and more like excitement.

When Elizabeth begins to comprehend Darcy’s hidden caliber as a gentleman, she doesn’t necessarily abandon her prior assumptions about his pride but reevaluates things. Similarly, I’m not willing to allow that this semester hasn’t had some challenges and periods of heightened stress. But it might have contained some greater merits than I would previously have admitted.

There have been many chapters in my book of learning contentment. I typically experience a similar pining over endings. When the gate finally opens to taste the grass on the other side, I want to brace my feet into the ground and push back to stay in what I’ve been complaining about for so long. The better pasture proves frightening. I would rather persist in the place I now know because it’s already conquered. I don’t learn contentment and happiness in a situation until the time comes to move on towards the much anticipated next phase.

            When Elizabeth learns more about Mr. Darcy, she feels a greater loss since the prospect of ever seeing him again seems unlikely. I, however, look forward to one more bout with school next semester. Looking towards this, I continue compiling research for my senior project. 

Some light Christmas break reading.