Love and Virtue in Pride and Prejudice

by Gary Borjesson

You know you have loved someone when you have glimpsed in them that which is too beautiful to die. —Gabriel Marcel

Meno famously asked Socrates whether virtue could be taught. True to form, Socrates pressed the deeper question: what is virtue, anyway? I’m going to save myself and the reader considerable grief by taking for granted that we know roughly what virtue is—when we see it. That’s not to say we can’t get mind-numbingly confused, as Meno did, if we start philosophizing. What I want instead is to look at how this familiar and vital idea appears in practice.

Laurence Olivier and Greer Garson in 1940 adaptation

Specifically, I’ll show how virtue comes to light in the love and friendship of Darcy and Elizabeth. I know of no better depiction than Jane Austen’s in Pride and Prejudice. I’ve chosen it because Austen’s view of virtue is philosophic in its depth and precision, and because it’s a wonderful story  known to many readers.

Austen’s title announces the theme of virtue, by pointing to the obstacles Darcy and Elizabeth face to having more of it. I say “more”, because, contrary to a common opinion, virtue is not a thing but an activity that falls on a continuum. With regard to virtue, we behave better and worse, have better and worse days; some of us lead better or worse lives relative to others. We call a way of acting and living virtuous when it aligns with the good or true or beautiful. (Austen would agree with Aristotle’s gloss of virtue (areté) as excellence in action and character.)

What makes Darcy and Elizabeth so compelling is that they take their lives seriously, which is to say they want to be virtuous. Indeed, each of them assumes they already are! The novel’s drama unfolds in the space between who they think they are, and who they actually are—which is not so virtuous as they thought! But while they have high opinions of themselves, they are not egotists, for they don’t want merely to appear virtuous to others and themselves, they want actually to be good and true, and to live in a beautiful way. That’s why both despise flattery and falseness, whereas an egotist invites it. Read more »

Monday, December 18, 2023

Fear of FOMO

by Deanna K. Kreisel (Doctor Waffle Blog)

I have no idea what the lyrics to the Oasis song “Champagne Supernova” mean,[1] except for one single line: “Where were you while we were getting high?” It’s a plaintive refrain heard several times throughout the song, not part of the chorus itself but a kind of obsessively repeated lead-in. If it’s been a while since you listened to the song, take a second to wallow in the poignancy of that line. I’ve got it all cued up for you. I’ll wait. I promise not to do anything incredibly fun with all our friends while you’re away.

Even though this is my essay, and I am deliberately drawing your attention to this line, and I know it’s coming, and I even have it playing in the background on my computer as I type these words, I still feel like someone is punching me in the gut as I listen. I don’t like to get high any more,[2] and I didn’t start smoking pot until literally the night before high school graduation so I don’t have a lot of poignant teenage memories associated with it—but it doesn’t matter. The point of the line, the reason it leaves me feeling slightly sick to my stomach with an achingly bittersweet feeling of loss, nostalgia, sadness, grief, and longing, is that it so perfectly imparts the feeling of missing out on something. Something fun, something magical, something intense and transformative and most importantly unrepeatable—that you will simply have to wonder about for the rest of your days on earth. Worse, you will have to listen to your friends talking about it in front of you for the rest of your days on earth: the whole Where were you? cri de coeur implies that you—the listener—are normally part of the gang, should have been there, were sorely missed. If the singer had been lamenting the fact that he himself had missed out on getting high with all his friends, it would not be nearly so affecting. The second-person address puts you in the position of missing out. Oof.

In other words, it perfectly captures the feeling of FOMO. Read more »