Fiction: In Jane Austen’s novel Pride & Prejudice, heroine Lizzy Bennet contemplates or is forced to contemplate marriage with three men—Messers. Fitzwilliam Darcy, George Wickham, & William Collins. As A. Natasha Joukovsky puts it <joukovsky.substack.com/…>, Darcy is a king, Wickham is a dog, and Collins is a jester.

But who is the jest really on?

William Collen points out a defense of Mr. Collins:

Joy Marie Clarkson: Why We Should (gasp) Envy Mr. Collins: ‘There is a simplicity to Mr. Collins that I admire and enjoy. He lives in a small and imperturbable world where all that matters is Fordyce’s sermons, the securement of a wife for the increase of his happiness, and the distinguished patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And while we’re all laughing at him, Mr. Collins lives in a state of domestic felicity, blessed with a stable life, a meaningful job, and excellent in-laws, satisfied with the choices he has made in life…. Mr. Collins has a lucky life, and many things to be thankful for. Not everyone is so fortunate as to secure the venerable patronage of a person like Lady Catherine de Bourgh, or to inherit such a fine estate as Longbourn….

Mr. Collins is a lucky fellow, but he also has the constitution to enjoy it. Through either personality or practice, he has developed a habit of regarding life in a way that enables him to enjoy it. He makes it a point to notice the things in his life about which he is pleased. And there is no joy too small to celebrate. Be it boiled potatoes, the windowpanes at Rosings, or the momentous advent of shelves in a closet, Mr. Collins gives himself over to delight. To put it simply: he has cultivated thankfulness….

The closest I come to despising Mr. Collins… is… his sloppy and conceited proposal… [to] Elizabeth [Bennet]…. [But] he was doing right by his cousins. Because he stood to inherit the estate, finding a wife amongst the Bennets would have ensured that none of Lizzy’s four siblings or mother would have to be turned out upon Mr. Bennet’s death. So, he simply surveyed the sisters and picked the best one….

Though Lizzy [Bennet]’s initial rejection [of his marriage proposal] may have stung, Mr. Collins should count his blessings, for they are plenteous. And you know what’s great? I know he will count his blessings! Perhaps even after all this you will still insist that Mr. Collins is laughable, and I would say that there is one more lesson that we have to learn from him: do not care too much of what other people think of you. Do not care even if they think your life is silly. While we all laugh and chortle about how weird he is, Mr. Collins is living his best life now. Mr. Collins has the last laugh… <plough.com/en/topics/cu…>

This is, I think, one of the places of extraördinary depth in Pride & Prejudice. The novel—both the authorial voice and the heroine viewpoint—mocks and scorns both Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet as irretrievably and painfully gauche, annoying, and foolish. And certainly there is no way in hell that Elizabeth Bennet could have had a happy marriage with William Collins.

But there is a level at which it is Lizzy Bennet who is the fool, and Mr. and Mrs. Collins who do indeed manage to achieve their goals and truly live their best life. He is indeed very fortunate indeed to win the hand of Charlotte Lucas, the venerable patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and the inheritance of Longbourn, he knows it, and he is deeply grateful and satisfied. And as for Mrs. Bennet, she attains the height of human felicity (save for unfortunate son-in-law Wickham):

“Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it? And is it really true? Oh, my sweetest Lizzy! how rich and how great you will be! What pin-money, what jewels, what carriages you will have! Jane’s is nothing to it—nothing at all. I am so pleased—so happy. Such a charming man! so handsome! so tall! Oh, my dear Lizzy! pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! what will become of me? I shall go distracted…. My dearest child! I can think of nothing else. Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! ’Tis as good as a lord! And a special licence—you must and shall be married by a special licence…”