The untold journal entries.
Pride and Prejudice in a blue stocking style.
Humorous takes on a much-loved classic written and performed by Stephanie Poppins.
Entry 2.
Mary Bennett,
945 Antimeridium,
1st December 1811 Anno Domini.
How insufferable it is to possess a mind of such superior cultivation only to find oneself perpetually overlooked.
Today at the assembly I observed with growing vexation how the gentleman flocked to my sister's.
Jane,
With nothing but her insipid beauty to recommend her,
Had three partners before the first act was through.
What profound thoughts occupy her pretty head,
What wisdom falls from those perfect lips?
None whatsoever.
Yet men gaze upon her angelic countenance as though she were some celestial being,
When any person of sense can see she possesses not an original thought in her head.
And Elizabeth,
How it galls me to watch her receive such attention when her judgment is so fatally flawed.
Her kindness to that scoundrel Wickham proves how easily her supposedly keen mind can be deceived by a handsome face and a false charm.
I attempted to warn her his character bore examination,
Citing examples from moral philosophy about the dangers of trusting to appearances.
Yet she dismissed my counsel with that patronising smile she reserves for my sermonising,
As she calls it.
Thou see how her poor judgment reflects upon our entire family.
Even when I attempted to engage Mr.
Collins in discourse upon the moral teachings of Fordyce's sermons,
He excused himself with uncommon haste to seek refreshment.
Surely a man of the church should appreciate serious theological discussion over idle chatter.
I am convinced the failing lies not in my person but the degraded tastes of society.
What gentleman of true worth would not be captivated by a lady who can discourse upon philosophy,
Morality and literature with equal felicity?
The blue stockings indeed have no qualms about discussing such.
So why shouldn't I?
Yet it seems the men prefer gazing upon Jane's placid perfection to engaging with a mind of substance.
How can they be so blind to the transient nature of mere physical beauty?
Do they not understand a beautiful face offers no companionship of the intellect,
No elevation of the spirit?
And still Elizabeth receives praise for her lively conversation,
When any discerning person can see how her attachment to Wickham reveals a fundamental want of judgment.
I have tried to guide her towards a more principled understanding of character assessment.
Yet she treats my superior insight as though it were mere pedantry.
If she possessed half my dedication to moral improvement,
Elizabeth would not have been so easily taken in by that officer's superficial charms.
At the Piano Forte this evening,
I selected the most challenging sonata in my repertoire,
One that truly displays both technical mastery and interpretive depth.
Did I receive the acclaim such a performance merited?
Hardly.
Instead,
I witnessed others receive applause for their insipid rendering of simple Scottish airs.
The injustice wounds me deeply.
Papa speaks often of my accomplishments.
Yet where's the recognition I deserve?
I've read more extensively than any young lady of my acquaintance.
I can translate Latin passages,
Discuss the principles of natural philosophy and offer moral guidance on any subject.
Why then do I remain invisible when the drawing room fills with company?
Perhaps it's my destiny to be misunderstood by my generation.
The truly enlightened mind often suffers in isolation,
As the great thinkers have observed.
Oh,
To run away when I'm older and join the blue stockings!
What a dream it would be to be funded by the great Elizabeth Montagu!
Still,
I cannot but help that if only one gentleman,
One person of sense and education would recognise my intellectual superiority,
How different I would feel about everything.
I shall not despair.
Tomorrow I shall begin that essay on female education I've long contemplated.
If I cannot capture attention through discourse,
Perhaps my written thoughts will demonstrate the depth of my understanding to those capable of appreciating it.
Evening Reflections Half past seven.
Post Meridian How vexing it is to witness the continued degradation of our family's reputation through the thoughtless conduct of my youngest sister.
This evening's display at the Assembly was perhaps the most mortifying yet.
Lydia,
With her fifteen years of age and abundance of vanity,
Conducted herself in such a manner as would make even the most liberal of mothers blush with shame.
The militia officers,
Those red-coated temptations that have descended upon our quiet Meridian like locusts upon a field,
Seem to have addled what little sense Providence saw fit to bestow upon my sister.
She giggled and flirted with such abandon,
I observed several respectable families exchange meaningful glances.
This does not bode well for our family's standing in society.
Mrs Long herself appeared quite scandalised,
And when she takes notice of impropriety,
One may be certain all of the country should hear about it before the week is out.
What troubles me most profoundly is Lydia's complete insensibility to the consequences of her actions.
She sees only the immediate pleasure of masculine attention.
She sees only the thrill of a scarlet uniform and the flattery of officers who,
I'm quite certain,
View her as nothing more than a temporary amusement.
She cannot comprehend each improper laugh,
Each bold glance,
Each unseemly walk through the streets of Meridian on the arm of some lieutenant.
Tears at the respectability our dear father has spent years establishing.
Does she not appreciate our tenuous position?
Gentle women by birth we may be,
But we possess no great fortune to elevate us above reproach.
Our consequence in society rests entirely upon our conduct and our connections.
When Lydia behaves so dreadfully,
She drags us down with her.
Jane's gentle beauty and Elizabeth's wit can't shield us indefinitely from the taint of association with Lydia's impropriety.
I attempted this morning to speak with her upon the subject,
But she merely laughed and declared such dusty old books I could offer were not fit for someone with her spirits.
Spirits indeed.
If high spirits consist of throwing myself at every officer in his Majesty's service,
Perhaps I require less spirit and more reflection.
Mama,
I fear,
Is no help.
She is positively delighted with Lydia's popularity with the officers.
She views it as a mark of her daughter's beauty and vivacity,
Rather than seeing the scandal it truly is.
She speaks of nothing but which officer paid Lydia the greatest attention,
Which one danced with her twice,
Which one paid her the most attention.
It pains me indeed to observe how thoroughly she's been abandoning her duty as a mother to guide and restrain her youngest child.
I cannot but help reflect upon the wisdom of Mr.
Collins,
Who suggested reputation is like a fair glass,
Easily cracked and never well-mended.
Each of Lydia's thoughtless actions creates another fissure in our family's good name.
What gentleman of sense and fortune would wish to ally himself with us when we produce such frivolous,
Unguarded females?
Poor Papa retreats even further into his library as the days pass.
He must wish to escape the mortification of witnessing his youngest daughter's conduct,
And who can blame him?
I have decided I shall continue my efforts to set a proper example through my own conduct and studies.
I shall aim for my higher self,
Come what may,
Though sometimes I wonder if virtue,
Practice and solitude serves any purpose whatsoever.
Perhaps tomorrow I shall again attempt to engage Lydia in some improving conversation.
Although things being the way they are,
I hold little hope for success.
Until wisdom and propriety prevail in this household,
I remain ever faithful to my stoic sisters.
Signed,
Mary Bennet
