If you spend any time at all looking around the next time you stand in the checkout line at the grocery store, you are likely to lay eyes on a series of magazines that accomplish two things at once: they celebrate the accomplishments of a number of different women while relegating those women to a nicely organized set of categories, into which patriarchal society would like them to fit. Kim Kardashian, for example, has managed not one, but two high-profile weddings, but she remains perhaps the type of the unrepentant sexpot, baring her entire derriere in an online magazine. Taylor Swift is the latest and greatest thing when it comes to singers and songwriters, and she has also stated publicly that she is not seeking a relationship (but her songs suggest that she enjoys sex), and so she fits neatly into the category of “woman who does not come with the same package of expectations as my girlfriend.” Charlize Theron and Cameron Diaz fit into that category as well, at least according to the marketing. And so the emergence of the genuine, authentic person who is not part of an existing category is often quite refreshing. In the time when Jane Austen was writing, British society had its own categories for women, and the sisters of Elizabeth Bennet fit neatly into them. However, in order to highlight Elizabeth’s individuality – to show that, as Darcy observes that Elizabeth refuses to “perform to strangers” (Austen, web), the other Bennet sisters depict the different forms of the stereotypical early 19th century woman.
Lydia Bennet is the young, rebellious woman who elopes rather than exposing her potential marriage to the light of common sense. At first, of course, Wickham wows everyone, including Elizabeth: “When Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking ofhim since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the –shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike setbut Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air and walk” (Austen, web). The lust that she and Wickham have for each other is strong, but is also predictably short in its duration, and it is easy to see that the two will spar once they have been married for a while, and the easy fun of their first months together fades into domestic drudgery. Her behavior also mortifies Elizabeth, at one point almost creating a rift that she cannot repair with Darcy; this is also a reason for Darcy to split up Jane and Bingley (Austen, web). While Lydia lets Darcy win the love and gratitude of Elizabeth, her total selfishness makes her an excellent example of that British woman who only wants what she wants and elopes quickly to get it. Her vanity is only dwarfed by her lack of sense when it comes to practical matters – or matters involving interpersonal relationships.
Kitty has the least importance of any of Elizabeth’s sisters when it comes to the plot of the story. She is also embarrassing to Elizabeth, much like Lydia and Mary, particularly because of how forward she is. In a way, she is an echo of Lydia’s behavior, acting flirtatious and irresponsible, although she reforms in ways that Lydia does not. Once Elizabeth and Jane bring Kitty under their influence, her behavior improves somewhat. However, her sickly nature is a point of contrast with Lydia, who is always full of energy. Ironically, it is when Jane and Elizabeth’s influence pulls her away from Lydia that she starts to regain strength, and such witticisms as Elizabeth’s comment “You have liked many a stupider person” (Austen, web) gives Kitty a much more reasonable perspective about her choices. This oddity also shows how Mr. Bennet has abdicated his role as a father, because he does not try to control Kitty’s behavior at all.
Mary fulfills the role of the vain, pedantic woman. Her desire to constantly show off her accomplishments publicly ends up embarrassing Elizabeth, primarily because she lacks the talent to pull any of her performances off. She acts like she enjoys learning, which causes the reader significant amusement but drives her sisters to distraction. She is not physically attractive, and so she tries to compensate for this with intellectual charms, but she doesn’t really have those either, so she fails at that as well (Austen). From her learning she has failed to gain any sort of empathy, and so she comes across as judgmental; regarding Lydia’s fall, she says that a woman’s “reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behavior toward the undeserving of the other sex” (Austen, web). She should be sensitive when Lydia elopes, but instead she offers only moral judgments. Her comeuppance comes in the form of the odious Mr. Collins, whose overbearing manner irritates everyone except her.
Jane is, in some ways, a helpful foil with Elizabeth. She is the naïf in the story, believing the best in everyone until the last. She approaches everyone with a kind and charitable perspective; she will not think poorly of people until she has absolutely no other choice. However, it appears that this charity may be a sort of a veneer (Austen). Her outward persona is cheerful and calm, but all this really means is that she is keeping that eminently British “stiff upper lip,” so she can hide that her disappointment in love has “ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world” (Austen, web). Because Jane internalizes her pain, only Elizabeth knows how she truly feels, but Darcy, Bingley and others don’t get to see it.
Alongside the consummate flirt, the follower, the pedant and the naïf, Elizabeth emerges as the only authentic individual in the group. She stands out from her sisters by contrast, and she is truly the prize of the bunch. Even though Darcy first describes her as “tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt [him],” she eventually wins his heart (Austen, web).
Works Cited
Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1342/1342-h/1342-h.htm
