Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (and money!)

Yesterday, I read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. If you haven’t yet read it, I absolutely demand that you go and get it from the library. It’s a scream — no pun intended.

Beyond the camp factor, I enjoyed this because it furthers the feminist side of Austen. The Bennet girls are — it is repeatedly referred to — masters of the deadly arts. Even the most silly, empty-headed among them is a strong, capable woman. Their skills also underscore the absolutely ridiculous social strictures of society in that day.

The girls are easily able to defend themselves against the “unmentionables,” but must often do so without the proper weapons, as it is considered unladylike to carry arms when going to balls and other gatherings. They must, therefore, make do with small daggers hidden by their ankles, under their skirts, where such things are hidden from view of those who would take offense — the same people whose lives the girls often end up saving.

This book reminded me, also, what a large part money played in Jane Austen’s work. Her characters were often limited by their families’ low status. In those days, of course, a good deal of status had to do with the pounds-per-annum. Even the most dreadful people were tolerable and, indeed, admired so long as they were rich. (It equates nowadays to rich people being “eccentric” while poorer people are just crazy.)

Pride and Prejudice is generally remembered as a romance, with any thoughts of money being mere drivers of the story line. The eldest daughter is kept from happiness through most of the book simply because she is of too-low status to be considered marriage material for her beloved. Friends and family of the man decry the would-be union through most of the book, based mainly on money and the Bennet family members’ quirks. Those quirks, I feel certain, would have been acceptable, if the income had been higher.

But money doesn’t only factor into romance. It endangers the women’s future security. There is what’s called an “entail,” which means estates and inheritances pass directly to male heirs. Since the Bennets have none, it will all go to a cousin; so the women fully expect to be turned out of their home as soon as Mr. Bennet dies.

While Austen was emphasizing women’s perilous situation in society — and utter dependence on men to provide for them — she was also giving an important lesson about money. Late in the book, Mr. Bennet is shown to have one persistent regret: that there are no funds set aside for his family.

In the early days of marriage, the husband and wife dismissed the idea of “economy,” which would have allowed them to save some money for their children to inherit. They were sure a son would come along. He would inherit the estate and take care of his family.

Instead, they had five girls. I guess they never changed their plan of a son, even as the daughters stacked up. I understand hoping for/assuming you’d get a son at first. But the more girl infants were born, the more they should have started checking out their alternatives. They didn’t, and then they were stuck with the consequences. Not too different, I suppose, from people who believe that playing the lottery is the only retirement investment they need.

The thing is, if you ask me (and since you’re reading this, you sort of are), the fatalism is just another instance of the Bennets being terrible with money.

The oldest and youngest daughter are seven years apart. That means that they had at least nine years to start saving before their first daughter even needed to worry about attracting a husband. (And in the book 16 is referred to as a little young to be out in society — though this may simply be a factor of the family’s lower status.) What’s more, the two older daughters are the sensible ones in the family. Surely they would have seen the intelligence in saving now to secure their family’s well-being in the future.

But Mr. Bennet declared that, by the time it was clear no son was coming, it was “too late” to save. Mrs. Bennet is bad at pinching pennies and, we’re told, it’s only because he’s careful that they are able to live within their means.

Instead, he gives up. Much like the people who continue to spend while in debt because they already owe too much money anyway. So what’s an extra $100?

Here’s the real question, though: Is it too late, or is he just lazy and selfish? Okay, five daughters are expensive. I accept that. Still, especially with the two older girls’ help, I’m sure they could have cut some corners and put aside something, even if it wasn’t much.

It’s clear throughout the book that Mr. Bennet cannot stand his wife. He considers her silly and annoying. For the most part, he let her run around doing whatever she wanted rather than deal with her. Still, when he did put his foot down, she would obey. She’d just mope around and complain. Loudly. Which made his life unpleasant.

He could have demanded she learn to economize. He could have told her to stop spending so damn much on her younger daughters’ frivolities. But he just doesn’t want to deal with the fallout. So he just chalked up the situation to being unchangeable.  In other words, he put his own comfort above his daughters’ security. Nice.

In case you don’t think the wife was indulging that much… Late in the book, Mr. Bennet mentions that, with Lydia’s room and board, paying a husband 100 pounds a year would make him only 10 pounds poorer. So Lydia, with her superficial needs, cost 90 pounds a year. The couple made about 1,200 pounds a year. Meaning Lydia cost them nearly a month’s income by budgetary standards.

And one other Bennet followed “slavishly” in her sister’s footsteps. So you can bet she spent a pretty penny (shilling?) herself!

In other words, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s financial myopia doomed his daughters to utter dependence on men. If they had been more prudent, the girls might at least had some money to get by, if no husbands were found. Or, at the least, the girls would have had some inheritance to pad their husbands’ income. That could mean the difference between marrying for love or financial stability.

What I find perhaps weirdest is that Austen makes Mr. Bennet more likable than his wife.

Okay, Mrs. Bennet is annoying beyond description (though Austen does a pretty good job).  She comes off as superficial, since good marriages would be bragging rights — and they would elevate her status in society. But at least she was trying to secure her daughters’ futures, whether you believe this to be from motherly love or self-indulgence. I believe it was a mix of both, but a woman in her position could not help but be aware of her daughters’ limited options — and uncertain future — if she did not figure something out for them.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bennett is indifferent throughout the book about marriage. He does not make it a priority, even though he knows they have nothing to inherit. Their mother will pass on 1,000 pounds, but that would be gone instantly if the women had no one to support them. He is also  flippant about his wife’s obsession with marriage and appearance, despite it having everything to do with keeping his daughters from poverty. It’s yet another way he fails his children. And once again it’s by being fatalistic about money.

I might be able to forgive that and chalk it up to his wanting his daughters to be happy — and therefore being short-sighted about their long-term security. But I find it beyond cruel that he refers a couple of times (nonchalantly) to the Bennet women being “turned out” when he dies. He knows it makes his wife crazy with worry. He doesn’t mention options or alternatives, or even suggest that his daughters choose wisely in marriage. He just reminds them that their days in the house are numbered.

And when the cousin — the one who stands to inherit the estate — proposes to his daughter, he puts his foot down that she continue to refuse him. (This is despite her mother’s anguish about lost opportunity.)

Of course, this man is absolutely intolerable. He’s insipid, self-congratulating and generally annoying.  But this one marriage — admittedly a huge sacrifice for the girl — could have ensured the Bennet women’s future. After all, the man couldn’t leave his mother- and sisters-in-law homeless when he took possession of the house. They would have to be provided for.

But does Mr. Bennet consider this? No. True, he’s worried to an extent about his daughter’s happiness. I think the real motive, though, is that he cannot stand the man and doesn’t want him as a son-in-law. Otherwise, he could have suggested one of his other daughters. Perhaps one who is superficial enough to want the money that would come with the marriage.

It’s also worth noting that the main character pities her best friend, who takes a much more realistic view of marriage. She wants a nice home, she wants stability and, frankly, she has no other prospects. So she marries a man who is annoying. She ignores him when she can, shoos him out of the house on the pretense that he should work on his garden, and endeavors to enjoy the comforts she has gotten herself.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m horrified at the idea of living with a man you can barely stand. But, given women’s position in society, didn’t this woman make the best choice available to her? Her other prospect was to be an old maid. She was already 27, considered doom to spinsterhood.

Of course, both of the sensible Bennet daughters are rewarded for their belief in romance and love. They marry well and have a secure future. But this is hardly a realistic scenario. Few men would marry below their station for love in that day and age. And that’s assuming that such men even bothered marrying for love. (I cannot help but think of Shakespeare in Love, admittedly set long before this, where the female lead, upon hearing she is engaged, says, “I do not love you, my lord.” He replies, “How your mind hops about! Your father was a shopkeeper , your children will  bear arms, and I will recover my fortune. That is the only matter under discussion today.”)

Yet Austen, who seems to take pains to point out women’s plight in society, makes light of women who are interested in financial security over love. Women who could easily be considered practical. Given how superficial many of the courtships were back in the day, women who married for love were probably more prone to disappointment than women who chose comfort and security.

It seems like her attitudes are paradoxical.

On the other hand, Austen seems to have viewed women’s plight all to clearly. It must have been utterly depressing to be so clever, yet so confined by society. Perhaps she couldn’t bear to write something so realistic as to be dreary and upsetting.

Or maybe she was even more realistic than that. Audiences crave a happy ending, even when it is clearly improbably. Could Austen have tied up her story in such a neat package because she was pandering to the crowd?

What do you think her attitude toward marriage/finance was? Who do you think was smarter in matters of marriage, given women’s position in society: the realist or the romantics? And most importantly, have you read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies yet???

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