Yet again, Mr. Darcy. I’ve spent all of today, one of my many summer holiday Mondays, lounging around at home and watching the TV series ‘Lost in Austen’ – the latest addition to the cult of P & P. And yes, it contains yet another feisty, erudite heroine in search of love and yet another smouldering, to-die-for Mr Darcy who simply stares and glares his way into her affections (and mine). There’s just something about men in breeches and waistcoats and high neckpoints that simply takes one’s breath away. And no wonder, I suppose, when what we’re sentenced to is often immature, idiotic and clad in dirty jeans and t-shirts.
Of course, it was fictional wish fulfilment that made the series so enjoyable. I mean, what woman in the mould of the aforementioned title character would not want to be suddenly thrust into the 19th century, with the promise of Darcy, no less?
I did a bit of googling while I sat here drinking my tea; unsurprisingly enough, there are a considerable number of Darcy-bashers (not too many though, maybe one for every five adoring fans). Apparently, the twenty first century woman would rather be with an enlightened, sensitive man whose penchant for equality would preclude any chivalrous impulses he might have. Darcy is now identified as being repressed, domineering and entirely undesirable.
But I suppose it might be interesting to delve into why women still cling to the Darcyesque Byronic hero type, whose veneer of cynical detachment is a masque par excellence, and one that only the right woman can see through and gently peek behind. Personally speaking, I’m a feminist. I believe in equality. But as far as chivalry or compassion go, I’m still very much aware that I’m a woman, and I still want to be taken care of. I’d never win the award for being Miss Independent, but neither would I want to be characterised as one of those prissy, simpering women who need men like a fish needs water.
Darcy seems to fill that in-between space: he’s neither overtly concerned, nor is he an advocate of free love and casual sex. And of course, any relationship involves a certain amount of power play, though in a typically 21st century manner of being politically correct, we’d rather not admit it. Darcy’s attractive precisely because he’s so politically incorrect: he would automatically assume the role of the dominant, superior partner in a relationship, as a matter of principle.
This 21st century penchant for the middle-ground, for tolerance, for an everything-goes sort of attitude towards life is just disconcerting. Where do you find yourself, how do you define yourself, and what do you categorise as important in a world that isn’t willing to commit to definitions or categorisation? But I think, in the race to be politically correct and to foreground our acceptance of differences, we’ve begun to glorify insubordination to such an extent that it has become the new norm. Rebellion isn’t just taken into one’s stride anymore, it’s expected.
Which is why, I suppose, a character like Fitzwilliam Darcy still resonates. In a world where everything seems to be falling apart, and the only principles are those that you coin in order to suit yourself and your goals, he represents constancy, value, respect, integrity and intelligence. And without those, what is love or life?
