P&P The Untold Stories: Lady Catherine Interviews Mr. Collins

Lady Catherine conducts a job interview with Mr. Collins…

September 19, 1811

Mr. Whitaker, the clergyman of Hunsford, was dead. Lady Catherine, however, could not bring herself to regret it. “Certainly,” she said, “I shall mourn as much as is proper; that is, I shall wish him every mercy at the seat of Judgment, but that, of course, is no more than what is due to us all. In my own judgment however, his life on earth was peculiarly dissatisfying.”

“He was a good clergyman, was he not, ma’am?” Mrs. Jenkinson ventured timidly.

Lady Catherine made a contemptuous tut-tutting sound. “Speak only of what you are qualified to assess, Mrs. Jenkinson,” she said. “You know I have often told you that your opinions are all too weak-minded. I would not wish the person who is companion to my daughter to be otherwise; to hold strong, decided opinions would be a drawback in your position. Biddibility, and gentility, are what I ask, and I make no complaint of you. But you are unable to discern a good sermon from a bad, and therefore I must inform you that Mr. Whitaker was very wanting in his abilities in that capacity.”

Her visitor, Lady Metcalfe, a lady of a similar time of life and equal dignity as Lady Catherine, put down her teacup. “Is that so, Lady Catherine? I never heard Mr. Whitaker, but if he was such an inferior practitioner of his duties, it is most fortunate that you now have the opportunity to replace him.”

Lady Catherine nodded vigorously, and the lace on her headdress shook. “To be sure. I confess, however, Lady Metcalfe, that in this instance I am quite at a loss. Mr. Whitaker died suddenly, having been so foolish as to catch a cold, and most unjustifiably leaving me unprepared with a suitable successor.”

“A cold? Did he?” commented Lady Metcalfe. “He cannot have been of very stout constitution. We have had dry weather this summer, and it is only the first of September.”

“Mr. Whitaker was so kind as to visit me every day,” spoke up Miss de Bourgh, “in my most recent illness.”

“But I question if his fatal cold was caught by visiting you, Anne. Hers was only a very slight catarrh,” she turned to Lady Metcalfe, “always a matter for the very greatest care, with delicacy like Anne’s, and she was confined in bed for some weeks, but it ought not to have been anything a man like Mr. Whitaker could not counter.”

“Do you not think it may have been our summoning him four and five times each day?” asked Mrs. Jenkinson hesitatingly.  “He could not have had a full night’s sleep for at least a month, because of his extreme exertions.”

“Bah! That was no more than his duty, and it was the dirty Hambly family in the village, all down with scarlet fever, that did the mischief, I am sure. I told them to keep their farm animals out of the cottage and to wash themselves with lye soap, but did they? They did not. I have no patience with such people.”

“And so now you are in the position of finding a new clergyman,” said Lady Metcalfe meditatively. “I should think you the very last person to be without resources. You have always supplied your circle with suitable governesses, and servants.”

“And my own four nieces,” said Mrs. Jenkinson, “are so happily settled, and all because of Lady Catherine’s wonderful cleverness and benevolence.”

Lady Catherine looked graciously. “Those are the qualities for what I am famed,” she admitted simply.

“Mama, is it not the usual thing, in such cases, to inquire at the universities?” asked Anne languidly.

“You are right, my dear, and I have written to the Master of Balliol. He is my cousin,” she told Lady Metcalfe, “but I do not like the tone of the letters I have received in return. Young men of the present day show no suitable deference. Do you know, one young man has written to demand a curate, not paid for out of the living, but presumably from my own pocket! As if the stipend were not of almost unheard-of liberality! And another candidate, a Mr. Blaylock, who seemed a more modest kind of young man, refused to submit his sermons to me for approval, or confine himself to less than half-an-hour.”

“Shocking!” said Lady Metcalfe.

“Is not it? And a third, a very respectable young man or so I thought, wishes the family’s cottage-visiting, and other charitable works, to be entirely under his own direction. Heaven and earth! I do not know what will become of the Church at this rate, if its servitors are all to be of this stamp.”

“There is a young man I have heard of,” Lady Metcalfe said thoughtfully, “our new governess, Miss Harrison, was telling us of a friend of her brother’s, who was lately ordained with him. I believe he was at Oxford with Mr. Pope. I will make inquiries if you like.”

“I would be most obliged, Lady Metcalfe. Do write. Find out how old the gentleman is—he must be under thirty, so that he is ductile enough to get used to my ways. He need not be a remarkable genius; I should prefer obedience, and a young man who would be sensible that to hold the living of Hunsford is a great privilege. Only think! He will be able to see Rosings from his very doorway.”

“To be sure,” replied Lady Metcalfe, “not many young clergymen in the kingdom could expect to be as fortunate as your new rector.”

“And he must not be bred too high. I do not require a high-and-mighty gentleman, but naturally he must be a gentleman. Find out what his family are and be sure he is of a docile, agreeable temper, but without inconvenient prejudices, or set in his ways. We will want him to make up a card table and not be overly censorious about such practices as Sunday visiting.”

“I will inquire of Miss Pope at once and have her write to her brother. I believe the young man’s name is Mr. Collins.”

* * *

Since his ordination, Mr. Collins had kept his lodgings at Oxford, in hopes of maintaining himself by tutoring while waiting for more remunerative preferment; but there had been no pupils so desperate as to seek out the ministrations of a man who had little reputation for cleverness or learning, and no valuable appointments had been offered. On receiving Lady Catherine’s letter, which followed Miss Pope’s inquiry, Mr. Collins did not hesitate. With such speed and dispatch as his slowness to form long sentences required, he wrote a return letter full of obsequious professions of gratitude and eagerness to demean himself. Lady Catherine thought his alacrity to perform any duty she might wish, most promising, and wrote a condescending answer; and so it was fixed that he would wait upon her at Rosings, only a se’nnight after his receiving the first communication.

Mr. Collins arrived promptly as expected, and Lady Catherine was disposed from the first to be pleased with him.

“So you are Mr. Collins. What is your age?”

“Five and twenty, Your Ladyship.”

“And what was your father?”

“He was a farmer, Your Ladyship.”

“A farrrmer!” Lady Catherine trilled, and lifted her heavily marked eyebrows. “Then you are not the son of a gentleman. How did you come to be a clergyman? There is some mystery here. I do not like mysteries.”

“Madam, my father was certainly not a very great gentleman by your standards; he was not rich, and did not frequent the court or move in genteel society, as you and your noble daughter are entitled to do.” Mr. Collins made a clumsy bow and a scrape, simultaneously. “Yet he was of good blood, of the Hertfordshire Collinses; and my mother was the only sister to the late Mr. Bennet of Longbourn of whom you may, perhaps, have heard. Mr. Bennet disapproved of her marriage, and after my mother’s death, quarreled with my father, so that there was a breach; but I have reason to believe that Mr. Bennet’s son is of a more amiable disposition. And by a fortunate circumstance, whenever the present Mr. Bennet, my cousin, dies, I am the heir by entail to the valuable property of Longbourn.”

“Are you indeed? Well! And is it a large property, Mr. Collins? What do you suppose Mr. Bennet’s income to be?”

“Longbourn is nothing compared to the unrivalled magnificence and beauty of Rosings, of course, your Ladyship. You would think nothing of it. It is, however, a good sized, modern-built house, in the village of Meryton, and Mr. Bennet is said to have a thousand pounds a year. He is not an economical man, I have heard, but has so far managed to keep the property together, so that I can expect to inherit a respectable estate.”

“You do not take possession until his death,” pursued Lady Catherine, “and how old a man do you suppose him to be?”

“Mr. Bennet is between forty and fifty and has five daughters.”

“Indeed! And no son. That is well for you, but I must be assured that if you come to Hunsford, we will not be in danger of your abandoning us in the space of a twelvemonth for Meryton.”

“I do not think there is the remotest danger of that. Mr. Bennet is in good health, and I would rank my duties at Hunsford as far above any other earthly ones, should I be so unspeakably fortunate as to be granted your Ladyship’s patronage.”

“That is well. And you are versed in all the duties that will attach to your station?”

“Indeed, I have made good use of my time at Oxford, and have learnt about tithes, and sermon-writing, and visiting the poor.”

“About writing sermons,” Lady Catherine fixed him with a suspicious eye, “how long do you consider the proper Sunday sermon to be?”

“Not more than five and twenty minutes, my lady, and I assure you I would always submit to direction from my benefactress with the most extreme obligingness.”

Lady Catherine seemed pleased. “Hm. Very good. And you will not object to being at Rosings often, to fill in at the dinner table, and make a fourth at cards, whenever it is desired? You will be available day and night at a moment’s notice?”

Mr. Collins took a deep breath. “Lady Catherine,” he said feelingly, “I should consider my being admitted to visit Rosings as the very greatest honor I have ever had in my life.”

She nodded. “A most appropriate sentiment. And you will not interfere with my decisions as magistrate of the village?”

“I should never presume to do such a thing, madam!”

“The living is five hundred a year, but it is capable of improvement and has a very good house attached to it. I will take you to see it—it is time for Anne’s walk, and we will take it together. The house is in need of some repairs, and I will undertake these for you before you take possession, on one condition.”

“Anything you desire, Lady Catherine!”

“You must marry and bring a wife hither.” She made an emphatic rap on the floor with her silver walking-stick.

Mr. Collins looked all acquiescence. “I would be only too happy to gratify you in such a way,” he bleated. “I think it right that a clergyman like myself should have a wife, to serve as a praiseworthy example to the parish; and I assure you that to marry is my object.”

“That is well. We are too retired a society here and require a neighbor. Someone who is not too proud, and will be very attentive to Miss de Bourgh and me, yet always know her station.”

“That is exactly what I should look for in a wife. I confess I had thought—” He stopped.

“Well? What is it?”

“The five Miss Bennets have all a reputation for great gentility, economy, amiability, and—and beauty, ma’am.”

“Have they now? But you are not on terms with your cousin, their father.”

“No, but if I should be so unspeakably fortunate, beyond all men, as to accede to the Hunsford living, I would, by your Ladyship’s leave, take a journey into Hertfordshire, to offer an olive branch to the family and to see for myself if the Miss Bennets are as respectable and fair as reputed.”

“That’s well thought of.” She looked at Mr. Collins with condescension and approval. “Only be sure that the Miss Bennet you choose is the right sort of girl, mind.”

“I would by no means wish to marry anyone who would be in any degree offensive to my patroness.”

“You show a most suitable spirit. Yes, Mr. Collins, I believe, on mature consideration, that we are of like mind, and that you are the very man to whom I wish to give my patronage and raise to all the privileges of the Rector of Hunsford.”

“Oh, Lady Catherine, I cannot speak my infinite gratitude,” he said, with the very lowest bow of which he was capable, and a tremble in his voice. “I can only promise you that I will fulfill every one of the duties I owe to your gracious Ladyship, and of course to the Church of England.”

“Then it is settled,” said Lady Catherine, satisfied. “You will preach your first sermon the last week in September or the first of October—whichever you prefer.”

“The sooner the better, dear madam. You may expect me on the earliest date.”

Catch up with all the Untold Stories HERE