Music and dance are pertinent motifs throughout Jane Austen’s novels. Beyond reflecting the social conventions and reality of the Regency era, Austen's uses presentation of music and dance reveals more personal aspects to her characters, their relationships, and relates to the process of courtship itself.
Introduction
In the Regency world of Pride and Prejudice, proficiency in music and dance is a significant social marker of one’s good education and gentility, establishing one’s social station. However, Austen further suggests that it is one’s genuine inclination for the arts that more accurately illuminates one’s innate refinement, distinguishing characters with an inherent sense of sophistication from the pretensions of the posturers. Beyond each character’s individual aptitudes, Austen also employs the arts as a metaphor for romantic chemistry, exploring each couple’s compatibility through the Regency courtship rituals of music and dance.
Music and Dance as Social Perception
In the novel’s Regency society, one’s familiarity with the social skills of music and dance is key in exemplifying one’s social image and status. Not only does one’s prowess suggest the financial means for an artistic education, it also conveys one’s sense of culture and good breeding, contributing to one’s public perception as a refined, genteel individual.
Saliently, Bingley and Darcy’s initial impressions on the people of Meryton are significantly shaped by their respective behaviours at the Meryton Assembly (Chapter 3), where music and dance are the primary currency of social performance. In Bingley’s unrestrained enthusiasm for the ball’s revelry, he is “lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed do early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield”, with the cumulative listing of the long sentence overwhelming the reader with the keenness of his energy and passion. As such, Austen writes, “Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves”, with the imperative “must” demonstrating the apparentness of his friendliness and good breeding to those around him due to his receptiveness to (and participation in) dancing.
In stark contrast, Darcy is surly and withdrawn, merely dancing twice (“only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, [and] declined being introduced to any other lady”) and sullenly skulking around the room for the remainder of the ball. While Bingley is showered in warm admiration and praise, Darcy’s disinterest in the merriment leads to his pronouncement as “the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again.” From the superlatives (“proudest, most disagreeable”) to the hyperbolic statements (“proudest… man in the world”) to the absolutes (“everybody hoped that he would never come there again”), the overwhelmingly negative impression of Darcy’s apparent ill-bred arrogance and snobbishness is clear. Austen declares, “His character was decided”, with the short, declarative sentence imbuing the judgement with a damning finality. This juxtaposition in public perception is emphasised by Austen’s skilful use of free indirect discourse. By framing subjective judgements as ostensibly factual statements, she subtly alludes to how their images in the public eye have been cemented, as a gallant gentleman and a conceited snob respectively, by their diverging attitudes towards the ball’s celebrations.
Playing Pianoforte vs Playing Pretend: A Deeper Look into Characters
However, Austen rejects the idea of social projection / social perception as necessary reality (indeed, a key theme throughout the novel). Instead, she posits that it is one’s natural interest and aptitude that truly reflects one’s inherent sense of refinement. Characters like Elizabeth and Georgiana Darcy possess a natural musicality (Elizabeth’s playing is described as “easy and unaffected” in Chapter 6, allowing her to be “listened to with much more pleasure [than Mary]”); likewise, we can observe the effortless grace of Bingley, Darcy, Jane, and Elizabeth as they dance at various balls – this affinity for the pleasures of music and dance are unmistakable marks of their innate gentility, alluding to their inherent sense of sophistication. Conversely, other characters lack this genuine sensitivity. Despite their efforts to prove otherwise, Austen uses these attempts to lampoon their pretensions, exposing their respective character flaws and shortcomings.
The Netherfield Ball (Chapter 18) is ripe with such valiant efforts, namely in the painful struggles of Mr Collins and Mary Bennet in music and dance respectively. Elizabeth’s “dances of mortification” with Mr Collins clearly evince the immense humiliation of having to dance with such an off-putting, incompetent partner – he is “awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending”, demonstrating his absolute inadequacy in the art of dancing, only worsened by his complete ignorance of it (“often moving wrong without being aware of it”). At the end of the dance, “the moment of release from him was ecstasy”, conjuring Elizabeth’s palpable relief and even joy at finally escaping his loathsome dancing and torturous presence. Austen uses this physical ineptitude to convey his general sense of absolute self-importance, with his mixture of obsequiousness and idiocy, in a pompous, affected caricature of gallantry. In a few broad strokes of the excruciating “shame and misery” inflicted by his dancing, Mr Collins’ foolish pedantry is painfully evident, extending far beyond the ballroom into his daily life.
Similarly, Mary’s musical incompetence highlights the tiresome tediousness of her character. This is first alluded to at Sir Lucas’ party in Chapter 6, where her piano-playing is described as possessing a “pedantic air and conceited manner”, demonstrating her lack of natural talent for the art. However, it is at the Netherfield Ball that the true extent of Mary’s talents (or rather, lack thereof) is revealed. As she performs for the audience, it is clear that “Mary's powers were by no means fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected”, once again illustrating her absolute want for musical skill. This is illuminated by the comically mortified reactions of those around her, from the Bingley sisters’ disparaging “signs of derision” to the repeated references to Elizabeth’s humiliation in her “agonies”, with her eyes being “fixed on her with most painful sensations”, viscerally conjuring her overwhelming sense of shame and disgrace. Again, Mary’s musical ineptitude serves to exemplify her fundamental faults, in her vanity and needy desire for attention and praise. Her pride and misplaced self-importance lead her to contrived displays that only highlight her mediocrity, in her musical efforts as well as her day-to-day behaviour.
Perhaps most saliently, the reader also witnesses Lady Catherine’s inflated sense of self-worth through her (misguided) attempts to prove her musical sophistication. While Austen paints a ridiculous picture of Mr Collins’ and Mary’s respective incompetence, her subtler treatment of Lady Catherine’s grandiosity and arrogance is no less damning. On Elizabeth’s first visit to Rosings (Chapter 31), Lady Catherine’s pompous professions of her own musical expertise are often undercut by her own foolish actions, betraying her to be far from the well-bred, stately woman she portrays herself as. Throughout her visit, Lady Catherine makes no shortage of self-aggrandising statements proclaiming her musical prowess, including the hyperbolically self-important, “There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste.” Yet, she follows this declaration with the admission, “If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient.” Not only is she deeply arrogant and self-absorbed, the hypothetical assertion (the conditionals “if” and “should” revealing her actual lack of musical ability) exposes her as a hypocrite as well, with her complete ignorance and lack of legitimacy undermining her pompous assumptions of herself as the cultural elite. She continues to display her absolute inability for musical appreciation as she continuously interrupts Elizabeth’s playing, each time listening “for a few minutes” and “half a song” before interjecting out of boredom and a misplaced sense of self-importance. In Austen’s skewering of Lady Catherine’s musical pretensions, she humorously demonstrates the sheer hollowness of her performance of refinement and social rank, where her pathetic attempts to affect musical proficiency simply reveal her overwhelming condescension, foolishness, and hypocrisy.
As such, while proficiency in music and dance might be an outward indication of apparent good breeding and class, Austen explores its true connotations with regards to each character’s inner sophistication. While those who possess a genuine sense of refinement and decorum are blessed with natural grace and musical talent, those who merely posture such skill inadvertently expose their faults through their misguided attempts.
The Dance of Courtship
Beyond each character’s individual inclinations, Austen also employs music and dance as a litmus test for couples’ romantic compatibility.
Critic Ian Littlewood writes in the novel’s introduction, “In a society that allows little scope for the direct display of sexual interest, such clues are eagerly sought”.
Indeed, social balls numbered amongst the few opportunities to engage in romantic pursuits in a decorous, socially sanctioned manner, serving almost as a physical “marriage market” for characters to prospect for love and marriage. With the prominence of music and dance as entertainment at these functions, they naturally played a vital role in the courtship process, allowing couples to interact and explore each other’s suitability as a partner in courtship and marriage.
Beyond functioning as a mere opportunity for interaction in Regency society, Austen also employs the arts as a felicitous metaphor for romantic chemistry and compatibility. Austen writes in Chapter 3, “To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love”, elucidating the inextricable relationship between one’s affinity for dance and romance.
Darrell Mansell argues that Austen’s depictions of dance in her novels mirror her conception of Regency courtship and relationships, writing, “[She] present[s] the relationship between the sexes in a graceful, restrained, and highly stylised form of art that has developed in polite society.” (My emphasis)
For Austen, the same natural coordination and chemistry in a successful dance maps neatly onto that of courtship. Ultimately, Mansell writes that “The destined couples thread their way through an intricate design, to be united at the close.” Even as individuals prospect for love and marriage at the various balls in the novel, it is the inherent (predetermined) chemistry of each couple’s dance that is the most telling sign of their true compatibility and their likelihood of being rewarded with a happy, lasting engagement.
At the Meryton Assembly, Jane and Bingley’s immediate connection is seen in the sole offer for a second dance being extended to Jane by the eligible bachelor Bingley. With his interest in Jane clearly signalled by his second offer, the prospect of a romance and relationship between the two appears inevitable (evidenced by Mrs Bennet’s “gratification”, whose primary concern in life is her daughters’ successful marriage). Through this illuminating moment, Austen hints at their near-instant attraction and chemistry, deftly laying the early groundwork for their successful marriage that, despite various obstacles, is eventually realised by the novel’s close.
Moreover, Austen leverages on dance as a metaphor for Elizabeth’s romantic options, elucidating the respective (in)compatibility of her different suitors. For one, in her excruciating dance with Mr Collins, his pompous obsequiousness betrays him to be a poor match for the vibrantly clever, independent Elizabeth. Perhaps even more tellingly, Wickham does not even dance with Elizabeth in the novel – in his cowardly absence from the Netherfield Ball, Austen deprives him of a dance with Elizabeth, demonstrating his complete unsuitability as a possible partner.
Most pertinently, Elizabeth and Darcy’s entire relationship arc can be charted through their various interactions through dance. At their first meeting at the Meryton Assembly, their initial animosity arises from his haughty refusal to ask her to dance, damning her with faint praise in his remark “she is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”. This mutual hostility is further entrenched by Elizabeth’s subsequent rejections of his offers to dance, “instantly [drawing] back” her hand from his at Lucas Lodge (Chapter 6), and again refusing him at Netherfield (Chapter 10), going so far to archly reply that she “always delight[s] in overthrowing those kind of schemes”. Nonetheless, she eventually accepts his offer to dance at the Netherfield Ball.
In sharp contrast to her awkward dance with Mr Collins, Sir William praises the pair, observing that “[Darcy’s] such very superior dancing is not often seen” and that his “fair partner [Elizabeth] does not disgrace [him]”.
Their grace and elegance together clearly alludes to their ultimate compatibility as partners, which is again proven by a successful marriage by the end of the novel. Perhaps it is even worth noting that these rare, “not often seen”, moments of Darcy’s graceful dancing are inspired by Elizabeth, thereby positioning their eventual romantic union as special and thus especially precious. Strikingly, Timothy Dow Adams observes that this pattern of their various dances precisely mirrors that of Darcy’s various proposals of marriage. Despite her initial rejections of his initial offers (of dance and of marriage), her eventual agreement to dance is paralleled by her eventual acceptance of his hand in marriage, demonstrating the primacy of dance as a metaphor in the novel for a couple’s romantic prospects, and even the process of marriage itself.
Conclusion
In all, music and dance play a significant role in the Regency society of the novel, demonstrating one’s good breeding and social station. However, Austen employs characters’ personal attitudes and aptitudes in these fine arts to reveal their more private, innate aspects, from their inherent levels of gentility and sophistication to the natural compatibility between potential romantic partners, allowing us as readers to gain truer understanding of the respective characters and relationships.
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References:
Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. Reprinted, Wordsworth Classics, 1993.
Dow Adams, Timothy. To Know the Dancer from the Dance: Dance as a Metaphor of Marriage in Four Novels of Jane Austen. Studies in the Novel, Vol. 14, No. 1 (spring 1982), pp. 55-65.
Mansell, Darrell. The Novels of Jane Austen: An Interpretation. London: Macmillan, 1973.
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