Something I’ve wanted to do for a while on this Substack is to discuss with you as many Jane Austen characters as possible, one each week, perhaps roughly once a month. What better novel to begin with but Pride and Prejudice, her best-known work, and what better character than Mr. Collins, Austen’s most derided, most ridiculous, and most amusing clergyman? I hope you enjoy these little reflections on Austen’s characters. I’m hoping to go through all major characters from P&P in 2024, and move onto a different novel next year (perhaps Emma?). This post will be available to all subscribers, but I will occasionally make these paid subscriber posts. Do consider subscribing if you are able - I’d love to do more on this substack and more often (maybe even begin a podcast?). Without further ado, here are my thoughts on Mr. Collins!
Let’s start with the bad. Mr. Collins is obviously a rather ridiculous man. His obsequiousness towards Lady Catherine de Bourgh, even if somewhat justified by her patronage, is always a source of amusement for readers. For someone who delights in paying ‘little elegant compliments’ to people (especially to his social superiors) he can also be incredibly tactless. Who can forget Mrs. Bennet’s indignation at him when he asks which Bennet daughter prepared the ‘excellent boiled potatoes’ (implying that the Bennets are not well-off enough to pay someone to make their meals)? The narrator tells us that Mrs. Bennet,
assured him, with some asperity, that they were very well able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologize for about a quarter of an hour.
His lack of social skills presents itself on many more occasions. My favourite instance of this has to be when he proposes to Elizabeth. After her firm rejection, he keeps insisting that her initial refusal to marry him is ‘consistent with the true delicacy of the female character’, and that ‘young ladies’ have a habit of turning down suitors to increase their love for them! And of course, when, with no prior warning, he decides to introduce himself to an aloof Mr. Darcy (which would have been perceived as impolite at the time!), which is done brilliantly in the 2005 film version (a surprised Mr. Darcy, played by Matthew Macfadyen, almost hits him in the head with his elbow).
But Mr. Collins’ flaws also run deeper. The chief among those is what can only be described as avarice. Mr. Collins has been fortunate enough as to receive the living of Hunsford as a clergyman by Lady Catherine de Bourgh. At the time, often wealthy people would have the right to assign certain parish livings to whomever they pleased, and Mr. Collins was fortunate enough that the influential Lady Catherine chose him. He also knows that he will inherit Longbourn once Mr. Bennet dies, meaning he will have two separate sources of income, both quite notable. Even so, the narrator hints that his obsequiousness towards Lady Catherine is likely motivated by his wish to receive a second church living from her:
Very few days passed in which Mr. Collins did not walk to Rosings, and not many in which his wife did not think it necessary to go likewise; and till Elizabeth recollected that there might be other family livings to be disposed of, she could not understand the sacrifice of so many hours.
During Austen’s times, there was a practice called ‘pluralism’, meaning that a clergyman could hold at two or more separate parishes. He might travel between them, or he may simply hire a curate to serve one parish (curates would receive a salary, but it would often be a pittance in comparison). This practice was occasionally necessary if a particular church living was not profitable enough to sustain the clergyman and his family (for example if tithes from parishioners were low, or if the land cultivated was not extensive), like for Austen’s father George, who had two livings; but more often than not pluralism was the result of greed. Here, Elizabeth realises that Mr. Collins is probably hoping for a second church living from Lady Catherine, even though he is already very comfortable. This is certainly not very admirable behaviour. (If you’re interested in learning more about how the Church of England was organised in Austen’s day, I recommend reading Irene Collins’ Jane Austen and the Clergy (1994) and the newly published Fashionable Goodness (2022) by Brenda Cox).
Now, I realise that so far I’ve only added to the reasons why we might not like Mr. Collins very much. But hear me out, he also has at least a few qualities that we can appreciate about him. First of all, although he is definitely a little greedy and very much enjoys being praised, he is also, by the standards of Austen’s times, a very good clergyman. He actually lives in the parish of Hunsford, preaching there and assisting his parishioners regularly. Non-residence was fairly common among clergyman (meaning simply that a clergyman would delegate duties to a curate, and live elsewhere; Mr. Tinley does this at least on a part-time basis at the beginning of Northanger Abbey), but Mr. Collins seems quite involved in his parish community. He also genuinely cares about the moral instruction of young people. We may find it incredibly tedious - like Lydia Bennet does - when the narrator tells us that he is going to read from Fordyce’s sermons while staying with the Bennets (Fordyce wrote Sermons to Young Women, with a primarily female audience in mind, in 1766), but his intentions are good.
As well as this - and yes, I’m going to say it! - I would bet Mr. Collins is a devoted, though very embarrassing husband. I’m not saying Elizabeth should have married him - perhaps not even Charlotte should have married him, strictly speaking. But he seems to care that his family is well-provided for, and when Elizabeth visits Charlotte after her wedding, there are no signs that Mr. Collins is anything but a caring and involved husband. Elizabeth is surprised that Charlotte can be content with him, but then again, Elizabeth is not Charlotte.
As far as duties are concerned, Mr. Collins is far from neglectful, either to his wife, or to his parish. We have it from him that he takes his duties seriously, as he says to Elizabeth at the Netherfield ball that:
The rector of a parish has much to do. In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty.
Tithes were a tax imposed on parishioners for the support of the parish clergyman. Here, Mr. Collins is concerned that he should be fair in raising tithes. He also recognises the importance of keeping his property in a good state (many church livings at the time were allowed to go into disrepair), and takes the time to write his own sermons at a time when clergy would often ‘recycle’ famous sermons from books, simply reading them out loud during church services. Finally, he has a keen sense that he should be ‘attentive’ towards ‘everybody’, not just towards his patron Lady Catherine, although ‘especially’ towards her. Mr. Collins is not selfish with his time. Ridiculous, to be sure, but not selfish.
Does all of this make me wish I could have married him myself? Certainly not. However, I think it’s important for us to recognise that in Mr. Collins, Austen created a flawed, but also a good person. He is silly enough that we can enjoy laughing at him, but we can also expect him, ultimately, to live a life of service to his community, which is more than we can say for a number of other characters in Austen’s novels. The older I get, the more I like Mr. Collins. I think we do him a disservice by judging him by our contemporary standards. Perhaps, if we can immerse ourselves in the reality of Austen’s society, we will find that he isn’t quite so bad after all.
Thank you for this. Mr. Collins was not an unusual type for his time. Many modern clergymen today are much worse in that they follow the spirit of the time in order to make a lot of money.