Article
Books
Culture
Paganism
6 min read

Mr. Darcy: pagan hero?

Just over 200 years ago, Jane Austen died on July 18 1817. Not happy with how some today might interpret Mr. Darcy, the most beloved of Austen's male protagonists, Beatrice Scudeler re-examines the virtues he practises.

Beatrice writes on literature, religion, the arts, and the family. Her published work can be found here

A man dressed in Georgian clothes walks out of the mist.
Mr Darcy, portrayed by Matthew Macfadyen, in the 2005 TV adaptation of Pride & Prejudice.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been interested in how Jane Austen thinks about morality, and how she uses the characters in her novels to explore ideas about what it means to be ethical or virtuous.  

‘Virtue’, a word not particularly popular in our contemporary society, is what all her characters must attain if they are to be happy; but which virtues exactly take priority, is a matter that remains up for debate.  

When I first read British philosopher Gilbert Ryle’s piece on Austen, ‘Jane Austen and the Moralists’, I began to seriously question whether her heroes and heroines exhibit virtues which are more distinctly secular or Christian. Ryle argues that Austen’s virtue ethics follows the Aristotelian tradition. For Aristotle, virtue consists in finding the golden mean between a lack of a quality, and an excess of it. For example, courage is the virtue in-between cowardice, which is a lack of courage, and rashness, an excess of courage.  

Similarly, Austen’s characters must find a balance, for instance between Elinor’s excessive reserve and Marianne’s excessive feeling in Sense & Sensibility. So far, so good. But Ryle’s take is that, while Austen was most likely ‘genuinely pious’ in her own life – especially as the ‘dutiful daughter of a clergyman’ – her ethics remain essentially ‘secular’, rather than presenting an evolved, Christianised version of Aristotle’s virtue ethics. Ryle notes that Austen’s heroines and heroes are rarely seen discussing religion or praying, and thus leaves the question at that. 

The more I thought of Ryle’s explanation, the less convinced I was by it. So, I started wondering, can we really think of Mr. Darcy, the most beloved of Austen’s male protagonists, as an essentially pagan hero? Or, in contrast to that, can his narrative arch better be compared to Dante’s spiritual pilgrimage in the Divine Comedy?  

He is magnanimous, – that is, neither too vain nor too timid – generous without being excessively so, and careful in all his actions.

Let’s test these two possibilities by looking at which virtues Mr. Darcy practises and learns in Pride & Prejudice. From the very beginning of the novel, Mr. Darcy acts the part of the ideal Aristotelian hero. He is magnanimous, – that is, neither too vain nor too timid – generous without being excessively so, and careful in all his actions. Rash characters such as Lydia, and occasionally even his own sister Georgiana, are described as acting with ‘imprudence’. On the other hand, Elizabeth Bennet confesses to her sister Jane that she believes Charlotte Lucas, in accepting Mr. Collins’ marriage proposal, has acted with excessive ‘prudence’, which becomes tantamount to ‘selfishness’. Not so for Mr. Darcy, who is prudent in the right way, and to the right extent.  

The entire proposal scene is one of the most elegantly crafted clashes of values in fiction.

And then we come to the crux of the problem, that is, pride. While all the qualities I listed above are pagan virtues which Christians have historically had no trouble accepting, pride stands apart as a distinctly pagan virtue. For Aristotle, pride was entirely acceptable. While the excess of pride, hubris, is undesirable, pride is positively laudable when it consists in the acknowledgement of one’s accomplishments. Aristotle believed humility, on the other hand – a key virtue to Christians – to be symptomatic of a deficiency of truthfulness. For the first half of Pride & Prejudice at least, Mr. Darcy is in perfect agreement with Aristotle on these points. While Elizabeth is staying at Netherfield, he remarks that, while vanity is indeed a vice, ‘pride—where there is a real superiority of mind—pride will be always under good regulation’. 

Elizabeth’s reaction is telling. Not only does she disagree with Mr. Darcy, in that she lists pride as a weakness of mind, but she responds to his confident assertion by turning away ‘to hide a smile’. Her sarcastic smile is a hint of the reproach that will find its full expression following Mr. Darcy’s first marriage proposal. After insulting her family and reminding her of his superiority of character and station in life, Mr. Darcy is firmly chastised by Elizabeth, who freely admits that his manner has impressed her ‘with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others’. The entire proposal scene is one of the most elegantly crafted clashes of values in fiction. Here is the hero of the story, perfect in every pagan virtue of character, being confronted by the heroine with the truth that he substantially lacks in the one virtue that would distinguish him as Christian, humility. 

I am struck by how much this proposal scene mirrors Dante’s meeting with Beatrice at the very end of Purgatory in the Divine Comedy. Up until this point, Dante has been led through hell and purgatory by Virgil but, lacking the Christian faith, Virgil cannot enter heaven. Although Virgil has been both ‘father’ and ‘mother’ to Dante, who has relied on him unconditionally, by the end of purgatory he must leave Dante’s side and be surpassed by Beatrice. Virgil’s guidance as an impeccable paragon of pagan virtue is simply not sufficient in the final stage of Dante’s spiritual growth. Virgil having silently departed, Dante finally sets eyes on Beatrice, expecting a happy reunion after not seeing her for years following her death. Instead, she is peremptory and unsentimental in her greeting: ‘Look here! For I am Beatrice, I am!’. She is reproaching him for not remaining constant to her memory after her death. Instead of letting his love for her lead him to a greater love of God, she says, Dante allowed himself to become distracted by worthless intellectual pursuits. Dante feels the ‘bitter savor’ of her sternness, but he knows that she is right in chiding his intellectual pride. He confesses his past sins, and only then is he truly prepared to enter heaven.

By the time Darcy proposes a second time, his attitude has changed entirely. He no longer values pride as the chief indicator of virtue. 

Now, if Pride & Prejudice ended with the proposal scene I described, Gilbert Ryle would be correct in suggesting that Austen’s characters, or at least her male protagonist, are virtuous in an essentially secular and pagan way. But this is not the case. Instead, exactly what happens to Dante happens to Mr. Darcy. Like Beatrice’s chiding, Beatrice’s refusal and scolding lead Darcy to repent and learn humility. By the time Darcy proposes a second time, his attitude has changed entirely. He no longer values pride as the chief indicator of virtue, and thus he has become much more explicitly Christian in his way of exercising virtue. After Elizabeth has accepted his marriage proposal, he confesses to her:  

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit… I was spoiled by my parents, who, though good themselves…allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing… to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was… and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled.  

Just as Dante was reminded that he must confess and repent of past pride by Beatrice, so Mr. Darcy is ‘properly humbled’ by Elizabeth. Humility thus becomes central to the resolution of Pride & Prejudice, for without it there could have been no reconciliation between hero and heroine, no marriage at the end. Although Mr. Darcy may not be seen kneeling to pray, or declaring his love of God, the deepening of his virtues as a Christian is what ensures the forgiveness of the woman he loves. He may be the perfect pagan hero when the novel begins, but by the end he becomes the Christian hero we all know and love. 

Article
Belief
Culture
Music
5 min read

How Mumford and friends explore life's instability

Communing on fallibility, fear, grace, and love.

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

A bassist hauls a double bass of its base as he plays it.
Daniel Boud/x.com/mumfordandsons.

“Serve God, love me, and mend” must rank as one of the more unexpected openings to a hugely popular album in the history of rock ‘n’ roll. A quote from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, it introduces us to the potent mix of Shakespearean and Biblical allusion and imagery to be found on Mumford and Sons debut album Sign No More.  

Sigh No More, both as song and album, begins with confident assertions of faith then moves into acknowledgement of human fallibility and prevarication summed up in the Shakespearean phrase that “Man is a giddy thing” before asserting that love does not enslave but is freeing, enabling those who know it to become the people they were meant to be. The song ends with a prayer to see the beauty which will come when the protagonist’s heart is truly aligned with love. Throughout the album, the overriding concern is that personal fallibilities and fears – the darkness within – will prevent grace from having its full effect and the beauty of alignment with love from being fully realised. 

In many Mumford and Sons songs such personal instability is the problem to be resolved; “Man is a giddy thing”, “Why do I keep falling?”. Their search is often for the relationship or place that will provide stability:  

I can't say, "I'm sorry," if I'm always on the run 

From the anchor (‘Anchor’) 

‘Roll Away Your Stone’ describes the darkness within as a God-shaped hole filled with false gods: 

See you told me that I would find a hole 

Within the fragile substance of my soul 

And I have filled this void with things unreal 

And all the while my character it steals 

but this is not how life has to be: 

It seems that all my bridges have been burned 

But, you say that's exactly how this grace thing works 

It's not the long walk home 

That will change this heart 

But the welcome I receive with the restart 

Lead singer and songwriter Marcus Mumford knows how this grace thing works because, on the one hand, his parents founded the Vineyard Church UK and Ireland meaning he grew up in the context of grace and, on the other, he seems to have experienced grace personally in relation to the sexual abuse he suffered as a child (which was not experienced in his family or his church). In ‘Grace’ from his self-titled solo album he contrasts grace, flowing like a river, with the experience of acknowledging the abuse he endured and the healing for which he prays. 

Such biblical allusions and references abound in the songs of Mumford and Sons, as is also the case with some of those with whom they performed, supported or inspired. The Nu-folk movement of which the Mumford’s were part, began at a club called Bosun’s Locker in Fulham. There, with the likes of Laura Marling, Noah and the Whale, and others, their musical journey commenced. Noah and the Whale’s first album Peaceful, the World Lays Me Down featured philosophical rumination on a par with that of Sigh No More including lines such as: 

Oh, there is no endless devotion 

That is free from the force of erosion 

Oh, if you don't believe in God 

How can you believe in love?          

Following the closure of Bosun’s Locker, Ben Lovett from Mumford and Sons, with others, set up Communion Records, a network of musicians, songwriters, industry and music fans who all share a common philosophy and set of ideals. Among the artists supported by Communion have been Bear’s Den and Michael Kiwanuka. 

Bear’s Den is one of several bands, which also included Dry the River, that have used religious and spiritual symbols in their songs. Andrew Davie from Bear’s Den has said: “I wouldn't say I'm particularly religious, but I was brought up going to church every Sunday, I studied a bit of religion in school and just from going to Sunday school, it's almost that I know the stories so well, that I find it a cool way of telling more modern and more nuanced stories about my own life. As a backdrop to that I find it just constantly helpful and it's quite a powerful way to talk about things. It adds weight to me.” Similarly, Matthew Taylor of Dry the River said of the theological imagery in lead singer Peter Liddle’s songs: “It’s always been a tool for Peter I think, to use the imagery you’re talking about, to add weight to what he’s writing about. It’s rich imagery, and the ideas are ones that people can relate to easily, if there’s that familiarity there.” Both recognise, as do Mumford and Sons, the continuing power of Christian ideas and imagery and their resonance for young people. 

Michael Kiwanuka was surprised that his early song about faith ‘I’m Getting Ready’ was enthusiastically released first as the title song of an EP from Communion Records and then by Polydor as a single from his debut album Home Again. Kiwanuka, who is married to Christian singer Charlotte, has consistently expressed aspects of his faith through songs like ‘Love and Hate’, ‘One More Night’, ‘Solid Ground’, and ‘Floating Parade’. Alexis Petridis has noted that Kiwanuka sees more people searching for a belief system: “Having a faith in things now is, I think, a lot more acceptable, whatever faith it is. There’s no dogma, necessarily. We’re connected by the struggles we have and I think that’s what I’m singing about – being a human being and trying to overcome, which is what we’re all doing in a way.” 

Whether opening up space for bands to utilise the power of Christian imagery in their songs or enabling singers with a Christian faith to be heard on mainstream labels, Mumford and Sons, by example and support, have created opportunities for faith to be explored and appreciated. The response to their music, its themes, and those of artists with whom they connect, seems to reflect a growing openness to spirituality and faith. As they sang, together with Pharrell Williams, on ‘Good People’, “Welcome to the revelation”. 

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