Mr. Bennet and the mischief of neglect

The moral determinism of temperament

Blaming Mr. Bennet?

It is common now to see Mr. Bennet blamed for his behaviour towards the Bennet girls, almost as much as Mrs. Bennet. His faults may be more subtle, but they are no less important, it is thought.

But how much can we blame Mr. Bennet? And what does he do wrong, exactly?

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The Mischief of Neglect

When Lizzy gets Jane’s two letters telling her that Wickham has run away with Lydia, she regrets the easy treatment that her parents have given Lydia, which encouraged her as a flirt.

The mischief of neglect and mistaken indulgence towards such a girl—oh! how acutely did she now feel it!

Mischief was a much stronger word for Austen than for us. Johnson defined it as “Harm; hurt; whatever is ill and injuriously done.” The OED cites Scott in 1817: “It was hardly possible two such damned rascals should colleague together without mischief to honest people.”

We know who is responsible for the mischief of “mistaken indulgence”:—Mrs. Bennet, whose faults are well catalogued. But Mr. Bennet is here given equal blame for the “mischief of neglect”. Lizzy warned him what would happen before Lydia went to Brighton.

If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed; and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself and her family ridiculous.

In reply, Mr. Bennet said, “Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief; and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody.” It is too rarely noted that Colonel Forster ought to have been far more responsible for Lydia, and that Mr. Bennet had no reason to doubt his character. However, we continue.

His negligence continues when the search for Lydia is undertaken.

The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him. His family knew him to be, on all common occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent; but at such a time they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude, that he had no pleasing intelligence to send; but even of that they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.

Just as the word mischief is repeated, negligence is repeated. This is Mr. Bennet’s abetting sin. And he knows it. When Lizzy sympathises with him, he says,

“Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it.”

She tells him not to be hard on himself.

“No, Lizzy, let me once in my life feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough.”

And he acknowledges that she had been right to warn him.

“Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me last May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of mind.”

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Austen goes easy on Mr. Bennet

This is small beer compared to the unremitting scrutiny and scorn to which the narrative submits Mrs. Bennet. She is judged harshly from the first chapter, whereas Mr. Bennet is judged tolerantly.

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married: its solace was visiting and news.

When Lydia is found, and engaged, Mrs. Bennet becomes so cheerful that her spirits are “oppressively high”. This sort of perpetual scorn is never meted out to Mr. Bennet; he is dealt with using a gentler irony.

This essential difference is apparent throughout the novel. Think of the scene where Lady Catherine asks Lizzy about her education.

“Your mother should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters.”

“My mother would have no objection, but my father hates London.”

“Has your governess left you?”

“We never had any governess.”

“No governess! How was that possible? Five daughters brought up at home without a governess! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education.”

Elizabeth could hardly help smiling, as she assured her that had not been the case.

“Then who taught you? who attended to you? Without a governess, you must have been neglected.”

“Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be idle certainly might.”

“Ay, no doubt: but that is what a governess will prevent; and if I had known your mother, I should have advised her most strenuously to engage one.”

This is the crucial point. Charlotte Bronte earned £20 a year as a governess. Even allowing for more than that, the Bennets could have afforded one. (They are well able to keep a cook, as Mrs. Bennet snaps to Mr. Collins.) Mrs. Bennet could, indeed, have done more. It was her responsibility to engage a governess.