What's sort of funny about what is, as far as I've observed, the commonest reaction to Charlotte Lucas accepting Mr. Collins's proposal, is that people tend to think think they're being very mindful of the historical realities surrounding marriage when they say that Charlotte did the right thing & Elizabeth was needlessly judgemental—and yet I think "Charlotte did the right thing & Elizabeth was needlessly judgemental" is a take that's, like, dramatically out of phase with Regency ideas about (and realities surrounding) marriage.
I don't quite know how to organise this post but here are my thoughts:
1. "Elizabeth Bennet represents romantic* idealism; Charlotte Lucas represents pragmatism"
*Where "romantic" is used in its modern sense roughly meaning "eros." This take also usually has reference to Elizabeth's younger age, as something that is causing or allowing her to be idealistic.
This take I regard as purely nonsense. Elizabeth never says or implies that she will only marry for "love." She says something of this sort in a couple of the adaptations—but it doesn't appear anywhere in the novel.
For another thing: if the point of this character comparison were that Elizabeth demanded erotic, romantic love, while Charlotte was happy merely with a practical arrangement, wouldn't Mr. Collins's characterisation be very different? He would be a reasonable, sensible, respectable man, who was nevertheless very boring. Elizabeth might respect, but not love or feel attraction to him, and would make it clear that she was rejecting him for this reason.
This isn't the case. Elizabeth rejects him because she doesn't respect him, and she sees all of his pompousness, selfishness, and ridiculousness; Charlotte accepts him despite the fact that doesn't respect him, and has pretty much the same opinion that Elizabeth does of his mind. The disagreement between them isn't about whether they need to love their husband to be content, but whether they need to respect him.
2. What does Elizabeth think of Charlotte's engagement?
Elizabeth doesn't merely act like what Charlotte is doing is too self-sacrificing, or unpleasant, or boring, or not what she would do. She acts like it is indelicate, improper, and even immoral. Whether or not you agree with Elizabeth is of course up to you—I just want to try to lay out why, in her historical context, she thinks this way, because I don't think I've ever seen anybody address it.
What does Elizabeth think about this engagement (and remember, in her defence, that she never actually says any of this to Charlotte 😅)? She implies that accepting Mr. Collins means that Charlotte is lacking in "merit" or "sense." Jane advises her to "be ready to believe, for every body’s sake, that she may feel something like regard and esteem for our cousin”—but Elizabeth rejects this idea, as she believes that Charlotte's "understanding" precludes her from feeling "regard" for Mr. Collins. She tells Jane:
"Mr. Collins is a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man: you know he is, as well as I do; and you must feel, as well as I do, that the woman who marries him cannot have a proper way of thinking. You shall not defend her, though it is Charlotte Lucas. You shall not, for the sake of one individual, change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor endeavour to persuade yourself or me, that selfishness is prudence, and insensibility of danger security for happiness."
So Elizabeth thinks Charlotte accepting Mr. Collins is a decision that shows a want of "merit," "principle," and "integrity"; she rejects the idea that accepting Mr. Collins is a prudent choice (i.e. she does not believe the take that Charlotte has made a pragmatic decision); she thinks it is an improper, a selfish, and a dangerous choice.
3. What is the danger in marrying a man you don't respect?
"Dangerous" in what respect? Charlotte is in "danger" of what, exactly?
Elizabeth is speaking guardedly, but a clue to what she means can be found in Mr. Bennet's wariness about Elizabeth marrying Mr. Darcy, when he believes she doesn't respect him:
"I know your disposition, Lizzy. I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable, unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery. My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life. You know not what you are about.”
So we see a theme of suitable versus unsuitable marriages in Pride and Prejudice. In the repetition of the word "esteem," a comparison is perhaps being drawn between Charlotte's engagement to Mr. Collins, and Elizabeth's engagement to Mr. Darcy; in Mr. Bennet's emphasis on the word "you," a comparison is certainly being drawn between his engagement to Miss Gardiner and Elizabeth's engagement to Mr. Darcy.
But I digress. The "danger" for a woman in a marriage that is unequal as to sense and understanding, wherein she does not respect or esteem her husband, is that she will face a temptation to lose her "credit" (basically, her reputation) and enter into a state of "misery," by engaging in an adulterous affair. (Here we might consider Maria and Mr. Rushworth.) A woman's affections, her mind, her ambitions and energies, her sexual pleasure and activity, are (by this way of thinking) only to be routed through the conduit of her home life in a heterosexual, reproductive marriage. Any other state of affairs (no pun intended) is an assault against religion, morality, and the very fabric of society.
As a piece of nonfictional context here, The Lady's Miscellany for February, 1812 includes an article "Upon Female* Infidelity, and the Corruption of the Present Age," which, like P&P seems to, attributes the cause of female infidelity to an injudiciousness in choosing a husband to begin with. It should also give you a sense of what at least one contemporary thinker belives the stakes of adultery to be:
Marriage seems [by the ladies of the present times] to be sought for to be despised, and the conjugal oath is taken to be violated. Yet it is acknowledged on every hand, that adultery is an heinous crime, and that nothing tends in so great a degree to disfigure society. [...] Adultery is not only allowed to be a crime by all polished nations, but it has been classed as the next in atrocily to homicide. It is a theft, of all others, the most cruel. It is an outrage that may lead to assassination and murder. Nor indeed is there any excess so deplorable, to which it may not give rise. [...] The husband, when he is informed of the infidelities of his wife, loses all affection for her; a whicnd she has already renounced all love to him. For her children she entertains no maternal tenderness; and her husband disdains an issue that is spurious. The children [...] grow up without education, and without manners; and when of age they are thrown upon the world to dirturb their fellow creatures, and to add to human calamity and wretchedness. The pleasures which the Almighty has annexed to the marriage-bed, are the means of multiplying the human species; and this effect is the certain consequence of marriage when regulated by virtue. On the contrary, irregular loves and disorderly embraces are pernicious to population. They preduce barrenness; and while they lead to remorse and shame, they diminish the numbers of mankind.
So women who "seek for" marriage without having the appropriate reverence either for their husbands or for the institution, are in danger of violating the conjugal oath, which is immoral, and leads to the degeneration of all society (maybe it sounds silly to put it like that—but even the modern attitude towards "cheaters" and "home-wreckers" is not precisely positive...). And Charlotte does, indeed, meet the description of a woman who wishes to be married despite not having a high opinion of her husband, or the institution of matrimony:
Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was neither sensible nor agreeable: his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or of matrimony, marriage had always been her object: it was the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and, however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want.
*The title addresses female infidelity in particular because it is printed in a magazine intended to be read by young ladies; but the text of the article does lambast the immorality of "men of fashion," and call for "both sexes" to preserve their "virtue."
4. But why esteem your husband "as a superior"?
cw: misogyny, domestic violence, implication of marital SA
Wives must obey their husbands in every respect, unless their husband orders them to do something which goes against a higher law—namely, that of God. It is ordained by religion ("your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you"), and by morality, and by nature, and whatever, that wives are naturally, rightly, justly, and properly in a state of religious, moral, and legal subjection to their husbands. When Eve sinned by attempting to gain preeminence over Adam, this subjection was the punishment. A husband ought to avoid giving orders his wife finds insupportable, if he can; he may choose to yield in trifles for the sake of domestic peace, or because he's a real nice guy, or because he's improperly weak (depending on the opinion of the writer in question)—but the final decision always rests with him, as a matter of the law.
Henry Venn, in The complete duty of man or, A system of doctrinal & practical Christianity (1811), writes:
If it be urged, that the wife has frequently more understanding and ability to govern than the husband, and on this account ought to be excused from living in subjection, the answer is obvious: she hath liberty to use her superior wisdom in giving counsel. But if her advice is not accepted, subjection is her duty. Suppose a servant, as is often the fact, endued with more capacity than his master, would it not be insufferable insolence, should he urge this as a reason for refusing to be any longer under control, which, on another account, was indisputably his duty, viz. from his station in life? An attempt, therefore, to gain the ascendency is an attempt to subvert the order which the sovereign Giver of all wisdom has appointed. Base return for his bounty! The Christian rule is positive against such an usurping spirit: the command is, "Let the wife see that she reverence her husband." In opposition to natural pride, let her carefully check the first desire to have her own will, and see she be not wanting in submission; for this behaviour is most becoming a woman professing godliness. Let her remember that God, the author of the marriage state, has appointed this subordination.
You owe your husband your obedience, and have pledged it to him before man and God. Your only choice is the choice of husband in the first place—your only power is the power of veto. If you did not feel that your husband merited your obedience, and was suited to be to you what Christ is to the Church ("For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church")—the intermediary between yourself and God, the person who is charged with ensuring your understanding of and compliance with the precepts of religion, your Saviour—then your chance of not electing him to that position was before you married.
You cannot file for divorce unless you can prove desertion or cruelty (and the bar here is high—your husband is allowed to inflict "corporal chastisement" for your own good if you are disobedient). Even then, you cannot remarry—once you have gotten married, you have chosen your one and only sexual partner for life, unless he dies. You owe him your body, you need a very exceptionally good reason to deny him that right, and you cannot re-transfer that right to anybody else while he lives.
This is why young ladies are advised so particularly to mind that any man they accept be virtuous, industrious, sober, & without a colourful past.
I think it's also why Jane urges Elizabeth to "Consider Mr. Collins’s respectability, and Charlotte’s prudent, steady character." Mr. Collins is at least not likely to physically harm his wife, or drink to excess, or gamble away household funds; and Charlotte is too "steady" to be likely to engage in an adulterous affair. She's telling Elizabeth that at least the most dramatically bad effects of an unequal (in terms of sense and understanding) marriage are unlikely to apply here.
The point remains, though, that Charlotte does not believe Mr. Collins to be capable of guiding her, or even collaborating with her, in her religion, her housekeeping, childrearing, or any other aspect of life. She knows him to be her inferior in understanding, and yet is electing him to be her superior according to the law and the Church.
For Henry Venn, when husbands are not obliged to rule over their wives with "benign influence," but find their wives sensible enough that they may collaborate in religion, then
Their spiritual good will be a chief and mutual concern. They will be tender-hearted inspectors of each other's conduct, meekly correcting errors, which unnoticed would have struck root, or pointing out faults before they are confirmed into habits. [...] As the nuptial union gives the parties much influence to be either greatly serviceable or hurtful to each other's eternal interests, they must look upon themselves as bound in conscience to use all their weight against the corruptions of the heart, against pride, unbelief, and wordly lusts, through which their salvation is most endangered.
But Mr. Collins is too prideful to accord with these precepts, and too foolish to be corrected in this way. When Charlotte is able to influence his behaviour, it is through more underhanded means, and is usually in an effort to avoid his company (encouraging him to be out in his garden; choosing for her sitting-room a room which he does not value).
This is the kind of context we have to keep in mind when evaluating Elizabeth's statement that "the woman who marries [Mr. Collins] cannot have a proper way of thinking." Mr. Collins is not competent to the role of spiritual guide: the woman who marries him either believes that he is so competent, and is thus lacking in "understanding"; or she marries him even though she knows that he is not so competent, and is thus lacking in "integrity" (because she swears her obedience despite knowing she may be unable to keep the oath).
My argument isn't so much that Elizabeth necessarily believes women's subjugation to be natural and right—rather that, since the reality is that you are legally obligated to obey this man (and to have sex with him), it is more sensible, more moral, and more practical and prudent (!!!) to select a man you have a reasonable chance of being able to abide doing those things with. It saves you the trouble, and the dishonesty, involved in trying to finagle your way around a husband you don't respect.
5. Does P&P agree with Elizabeth?
Hopefully you can see that "the implied author's perspective," "Elizabeth's perspective," and "the reader's perspective" are all different things. In this post I have tried to explain (as I see it) what Elizabeth's position is and why: this is distinct from arguing that P&P argues that Elizabeth is right, which is distinct again from saying that I think Elizabeth is right.
What do we know about P&P's perspective on Charlotte's marriage? We have the above-quoted Mr. Bennet conversation. We have a pattern of equal marriages contracted through mutual respect and esteem, in which each partner may influence the other for the better (the Gardiners, the Bingleys, the Darcys); and unequal marriages, contracted for reasons of lust, pride, security, acquisitiveness, or social climbing (the Bennets, the Wickhams, the Hursts, the Collinses).
Regarding Wickham's courtship of Mary King, it is said that:
The sudden acquisition of ten thousand pounds was the most remarkable charm of the young lady to whom he was now rendering himself agreeable; but Elizabeth, less clear-sighted perhaps in this case than in Charlotte’s, did not quarrel with him for his wish of independence. Nothing, on the contrary, could be more natural; and, while able to suppose that it cost him a few struggles to relinquish her, she was ready to allow it a wise and desirable measure for both, and could very sincerely wish him happy. (emphasis mine)
This might support the case that the implied author feels Elizabeth to be seeing clearly when it comes to Charlotte—then again, it may mostly emphasise her lack of clear-sightedness when it comes to Wickham. But either way, the implication seems to be that this sort of "prudence" without affection is not wise or desirable, and Elizabeth is not seeing clearly when she thinks it is. In Wickham's case, but not in Charlotte's, Elizabeth is fooled into thinking that "selfishness is prudence."
We know Mrs. Gardiner to be a sensible woman, to whom Elizabeth and Jane owe much of their own good conduct. Mrs. Gardiner does not seem to approve of Wickham's engagement:
“But, my dear Elizabeth,” she added, “what sort of girl is Miss King? I should be sorry to think our friend mercenary.” “Pray, my dear aunt, what is the difference in matrimonial affairs, between the mercenary and the prudent motive? Where does discretion end, and avarice begin? Last Christmas you were afraid of his marrying me, because it would be imprudent; and now, because he is trying to get a girl with only ten thousand pounds, you want to find out that he is mercenary.” “If you will only tell me what sort of girl Miss King is, I shall know what to think.” “She is a very good kind of girl, I believe. I know no harm of her.” “But he paid her not the smallest attention till her grandfather’s death made her mistress of this fortune?” “No—why should he? If it were not allowable for him to gain my affections, because I had no money, what occasion could there be for making love to a girl whom he did not care about, and who was equally poor?” “But there seems indelicacy in directing his attentions towards her so soon after this event.” “A man in distressed circumstances has not time for all those elegant decorums which other people may observe. If she does not object to it, why should we?” “Her not objecting does not justify him. It only shows her being deficient in something herself—sense or feeling.”
Everyone, including Elizabeth, admits that Wickham does not care about Mary King. His match with her is not, to Mrs. Gardiner, better than his match with Elizabeth would have been. For Miss King to accept him even with the evidence before her that he does not care for her (i.e., he switched from Elizabeth to Marry after she gained a fortune) means that she is not thinking or behaving rightly. This is pretty much what Elizabeth thought of Charlotte for accepting Mr. Collins—who also switched his affections, in a short period of time, from Elizabeth to her (& recall that Charlotte feels Mr. Collins does not really care for her). It seems like, for Mrs. Gardiner to approve of a marriage, we need both: the partners need to respect or care for each other (Mrs. G does not say which); and the couple need something to live on. All of the "good" marriages in P&P meet these requirements.
We do not, however, see Charlotte Collins sinking into distress and misery. P&P is a novel uninterested in real, lasting calamity (even Lydia manages to cling onto respectability). When Elizabeth sees Charlotte in Kent, we read that:
[The Parsonage] was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency, of which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by Charlotte’s evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often forgotten. [...] Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Charlotte’s degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it was all done very well.
In the end, Charlotte is making the best of a bad situation. When she reflects that marriage "was the only honourable provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and, however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want," it is an acknowledgement that, however desirable it may be for women who don't have a high opinion of men or matrimony to get married, it isn't always practicable, because a genteel woman making any other provision for herself (e.g., by going into service, or doing sex work) is varying degrees of un-respectable or dishonourable.
6. In Summation
Elizabeth does not see the decision of accepting Mr. Collins as a decision between romance and practicality. Romance doesn't enter into her thoughts here, and she does not think that accepting Mr. Collins would be a practical thing to do.
The ideological / historical context of Elizabeth's world helps to explain why she thinks this. Other characters seem to agree with Elizabeth (Mr. Bennet; Mrs. Gardiner; even Jane, when trying to make the best of the situation, does so by arguing "that [Charlotte] may feel something like regard and esteem for our cousin," not that it doesn't matter whether she does).
The novel arguably does something to present this as a societal problem, rather than only a result of Charlotte being individually lacking in sense.
Context like this is so important for understanding Elizabeth's reaction to Charlotte's engagement, because from a modern standpoint, it's one of the harder aspects of Pride and Prejudice to understand. I didn't quite understand it myself when I read the book.
It would be one thing for Elizabeth just to think Charlotte is making a terrible mistake and throwing away any chance of happiness. But her concern for Charlotte's wellbeing seems secondary. More important is that Charlotte's decision makes Elizabeth lose respect for her and think less of her moral character, to the point that she feels they can't be close friends anymore. From today's perspective, it's hard to grasp why she goes to such an extreme, unless she's a romantic who insists that marriage should only be for love, which doesn't ring quite true (though some of the adaptations do frame it that way), or unless she feels betrayed by Charlotte's preventing Mr. Collins from marrying Mary, Kitty, or Lydia and ensuring that the Bennets will eventually lose Longbourne, which rings even less true. (If she felt that strongly about the latter issue, she would have married him herself.)
Sometimes context is everything.
