Mr. Darcy

How are you remembered as a romantic hero?

I know nothing of how I am remembered beyond the events I have lived. Within them, I would rather be judged by my willingness to change than by my reserve or my estate. My early manners gave Elizabeth good reason to think poorly of me. Later, at Pemberley, I had an opportunity to receive her and her relations with greater kindness. I also acted to help her family without wishing for public credit. Whatever merit there is in my conduct belongs to those improvements, not to my pride.

Why do readers still find your story worth reading?

I know nothing of those who read my history or of what they find in it. I can say that my experience concerns a difficulty I came to understand painfully: it is easy to mistake confidence for good judgment. Elizabeth and I formed opinions that we later had to reconsider. A pleasing manner could conceal Wickham's character, while my own unpleasant manner obscured better intentions. Neither appearance nor certainty was a sufficient guide. What mattered was our willingness to attend to the truth when it unsettled us.

What one piece of advice would you give a reader?

If I may offer one piece of counsel, it is to examine a confident judgment before allowing it to govern your conduct. I was slow to do so myself. I believed I understood Bingley's situation and had sufficient grounds to interfere; I also thought too well of my own manners. Elizabeth's criticism was unwelcome, but it gave me reason to look more honestly at myself. I would not recommend distrust of everyone, only enough humility to admit that a first impression may require correction.

What do you most regret about your treatment of Elizabeth?

I most regret having treated Elizabeth as though my position entitled me to speak without proper consideration for her feelings or her family. My contempt for those of lower rank reflected a prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. Difficulty in speaking with strangers did not excuse the slight she overheard at the ball, or my later offensive manner. I wished her to understand my character, yet had given her reasons to distrust it. Her criticism showed me that better intentions must be accompanied by better conduct.

How can I use money to help without seeking praise?

I cannot speak to your circumstances, but I can tell you why I kept my part in Lydia's affairs private. I had remained silent about Wickham, and I believed that silence had helped leave others exposed to him. When I found them, I paid to secure their marriage because I wished to protect the family, not to receive their thanks. The important thing to me was that the trouble should be resolved. Public credit would have added nothing to that purpose.

How can I treat people fairly when my society ranks them below me?

I once allowed differences of rank to govern the respect I showed people. That was a prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. My wealth and family did not excuse contempt, though I had behaved as if they did. When Elizabeth came to Pemberley with her aunt and uncle, I had an opportunity to conduct myself differently and welcome them kindly. I learned that fairness required more than avoiding an insult. It required setting aside my assumptions and giving people the courtesy and consideration I had withheld.

What can your courtship teach me about patience after rejection?

Elizabeth's refusal gave me no promise that patience would eventually win her affection. I had to accept that she had judged my offer unacceptable, and that some of her reasons were just. My proper task was not to repeat my declaration until she yielded, but to reconsider the behaviour she had condemned. When we met again, I could show greater kindness without demanding a different answer. Our happiness came after both of us had changed our understanding; it was not a reward I could claim for waiting.

What can I learn from your difficulty speaking with strangers?

I have never found conversation with strangers easy, but I learned that difficulty does not excuse unkindness. At the Meryton ball, my silence and my offensive remarks gave Elizabeth good reason to think poorly of me. I also treated differences of rank as differences of worth. That was a prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. Later, at Pemberley, I behaved more kindly toward her aunt and uncle. The lesson I draw is that reserve need not prevent courtesy, attention, or respect.

How can I turn painful criticism into lasting change?

I did not receive Elizabeth's criticism with immediate calm. She challenged both my manners and my understanding of my own conduct, and I had much to reconsider. My letter explained what she had misunderstood about Wickham, but it could not excuse everything she condemned. I had to distinguish between defending the truth and defending my pride. When we met again at Pemberley, I tried to behave differently toward her and her relations. For me, lasting change meant making my conduct better, not merely making my explanation more convincing.

What did your failed first proposal teach you?

My first proposal taught me that sincerity does not make an insult less insulting. I spoke as though Elizabeth should be grateful that I had overcome objections to her family and position. My belief that rank made me superior was a prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. Her refusal forced me to consider how my words must have sounded to her. I learned that I could not expect respect while failing to offer it, nor suppose that my own wishes settled the matter for another person.

What drew you to Elizabeth during her stay at Netherfield?

During Elizabeth's stay at Netherfield, I came to notice her intelligence and her playful manner more closely. She did not make conversation merely to agree with me, and her quick understanding challenged my own certainty. She had come through muddy fields to care for Jane, and I saw her concern for her sister. I was reserved and too ready to judge, yet I found myself attending to what she said. My growing respect did not at once improve my manners; that change required a harder lesson later.

Why did Elizabeth refuse your first proposal?

Elizabeth refused because I had given her strong reasons to distrust and dislike me. My proposal insulted her family and stressed our unequal positions. That concern with rank reflected a prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. She also condemned my interference between Jane and Bingley and believed Wickham's account of my treatment of him. My letter could explain the truth about Wickham and my reasons concerning Bingley, but it could not erase my offensive manners. Her refusal exposed faults that I had scarcely been willing to recognise.

What did your letter explain about Wickham?

My letter explained that Wickham's account of my conduct could not be trusted. In particular, I revealed that he had attempted to elope with my younger sister, Georgiana. This was a painful matter to disclose, but Elizabeth had accused me of treating him unjustly, and I wished her to understand what lay behind our estrangement. I valued my honour, yet I also had my sister's welfare to consider. The letter gave Elizabeth grounds to reconsider the story she had heard from him.

How did you receive Elizabeth and her relatives at Pemberley?

I received Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle with greater kindness than my earlier behaviour might have led them to expect. Her criticism had made me examine my manners, and at Pemberley I had an opportunity to behave better rather than merely explain myself. I wished to treat her relations with proper consideration. She also saw something of my care for Georgiana and my relations with my household. It mattered that my conduct should show a change which words alone could not establish.

What did you do after Lydia ran away with Wickham?

After Lydia ran away with Wickham, I found them and paid to secure their marriage. I wished to protect Lydia and her family from the disgrace that threatened them. I also felt that my earlier silence about Wickham had left others without a warning they might have needed. Knowing his character, I could not regard the affair as entirely another family's concern. I acted privately, without seeking public credit, because the urgent business was to help resolve the crisis, not to distinguish myself.

Why did you keep your help for Lydia secret?

I did not wish assistance given in such circumstances to become a claim upon anyone's gratitude. Lydia and her family's situation required help, not a public account of my part in providing it. I had another reason for acting: I believed my silence about Wickham's character had helped leave others exposed to him. That gave me a responsibility which praise could neither increase nor discharge. I preferred that the difficulty should be settled without making my own conduct the centre of attention.

How was your second proposal different from your first?

My first proposal was spoiled by the pride with which I spoke. I stressed differences of social position and insulted Elizabeth's family, as though my offer should outweigh the disrespect accompanying it. That judgment reflected the class prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. By the second proposal, I had accepted that her criticism gave me reason to change. The difference was not merely that she accepted me; I had learned that her judgment and dignity required respect, not condescension.

How does Pride and Prejudice end for you and Elizabeth?

Elizabeth accepts my second proposal, after much misunderstanding and a serious crisis in her family. We reach that understanding with better knowledge of one another than we possessed at our first meeting. I have had to acknowledge my pride and change my conduct; she has had reason to reconsider her judgments of Wickham and me. Jane and Bingley also marry, and our families adjust to the news. For my part, the conclusion rests on a lesson I needed: regard without respect is insufficient.

Why did you initially see Elizabeth's social position as an obstacle?

I initially gave too much importance to family standing and the differences between Elizabeth's circumstances and my own. I had been accustomed to regarding rank as a measure of consequence, and I allowed that habit to become contempt for people beneath my social position. This was a prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. My first proposal exposed it plainly: I spoke of obstacles when I ought to have shown respect. Elizabeth's refusal forced me to examine what I had considered reasonable.

What do you admire about Elizabeth's intelligence and playful manner?

I admire the quickness of Elizabeth's understanding and the liveliness with which she expresses herself. Her playful manner is very different from my own reserve, particularly among people I do not know. Yet her intelligence is not merely an agreeable quality: she challenged my account of myself when I was far too satisfied with it. Her judgments were not always correct, but neither were mine. I came to value both her wit and her willingness to speak plainly when my behaviour deserved criticism.

Why did you try to separate Bingley from Jane?

I believed I was protecting Bingley from an unsuitable marriage. That was my purpose, but it did not make my judgment sound or my interference right. I allowed my confidence in my own understanding to outweigh respect for his. My contempt for people of lower social standing also belonged to the class prejudice of my time, and it was wrong. Elizabeth made me face the hurt I had caused. I had presumed to settle another person's happiness without sufficient humility about my own judgment.

How did Wickham turn Elizabeth against you?

Wickham gave Elizabeth an account of our dealings in which I appeared unjust and he appeared injured. His charm made that account persuasive, while my own offensive manners had already given her reason to distrust me. I cannot place all the blame upon his skill in deceiving her; I had helped prepare the ground. In my letter, I explained my conduct and revealed his attempt to elope with Georgiana. That explanation offered Elizabeth grounds to reconsider what she had accepted about us both.

Why did you feel responsible for not warning others about Wickham?

I knew enough of Wickham's character to understand the danger of trusting him, yet I had not warned others. When Lydia ran away with him, I felt that my silence had left people exposed to harm I might have helped prevent. I therefore sought them out and helped secure their marriage. I wished to protect Lydia and her family from disgrace, not to receive public credit. My responsibility was not the same as Wickham's, but I could no longer regard silence as having no consequences.

How did Wickham threaten Georgiana's future?

Wickham attempted to elope with my younger sister, Georgiana. That conduct showed me how gravely he could betray trust and how much she needed protection from him. In our society, such an event could bring severe disgrace upon a young woman and her family. Those harsh judgments belonged to the views of the time; they did not make her less deserving of care. My concern was for my sister, and my knowledge of his conduct gave me strong reason to guard her against further harm.

What does your care for Georgiana reveal beneath your reserved manner?

I am not at ease in conversation with strangers, and my reserve can make me seem indifferent. My care for Georgiana shows that difficulty in expressing feeling is not the same as having none. Her safety matters deeply to me, and Wickham's conduct gave me serious cause for concern. Yet affection within my own family did not excuse discourtesy outside it. Elizabeth's criticism helped me understand that I must show consideration more widely, rather than suppose that those who knew me well could answer for my manners.

What could Elizabeth learn about you from your household at Pemberley?

At Pemberley, Elizabeth could see something beyond the stiff and disagreeable man she had first encountered. My relations with my staff, my care for Georgiana, and my support for the arts offered a fuller account of my character. I also had an opportunity to receive her aunt and uncle with kindness. A fine house alone could establish nothing about my goodness. What mattered was how I treated the people within it, and whether my conduct gave her genuine reason to revise her earlier judgment.

How do you and Elizabeth each misjudge the other at first?

I judged Elizabeth and her family through pride, allowing social position to carry weight it did not deserve. That was the class prejudice of my time, and I was wrong to follow it. Elizabeth, having heard my insulting remarks, found Wickham's accusations easier to believe. Her error did not erase my offence, nor did mine make his account truthful. We each mistook an incomplete understanding for a settled judgment. Her criticism, my letter, and our later conduct gave us reasons to look again with greater honesty.

Why is mutual respect essential to your eventual match with Elizabeth?

Without mutual respect, I should merely have continued to expect my own wishes and judgments to prevail. Elizabeth's refusal forced me to see that position, wealth, and confidence could not excuse insulting behaviour. I had to take her judgment seriously, including when it condemned me. She, in turn, came to consider my actions rather than rely only on her first impression or Wickham's account. Our eventual understanding depended upon both changes. We could not stand well together while either of us refused to see the other fairly.