Prince Charming

We love the men in Jane Austen's books. That moment when Colin Firth looks at Elizabeth Bennet and says, "my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth"? Sigh. We have our favorite versions of them, also: though I still prefer Jeremy Northam's version of Mr. Knightley by a smidgen, Johnny Lee Miller's version has grown on me over the many, many times I have watched it. Evidently he was also Edmund in that horrible version of Mansfield Park which I watched once and then shoved to the very back of my DVDs. I prefer not to think about that.

And while it may have been a liberating concept back in Ms. Austen's day for women to marry who they wanted, for love instead of practical, financial, and familial reasons, it is also a concept that has spawned an entire industry of chick flicks, chick lit, and Disney films with rewritten, happy fairytale endings. We want that perfect Prince Charming.

But that isn't a Jane Austen man. The men in Jane Austen's novel are not Prince Charmings.

Take Mr. Darcy, for instance. He mellows a bit by the end of the novel, and Elizabeth also understands him a little better. But in the beginning of the book he truly is arrogant. Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth's father, makes fun of his wife. Mr. Collins... well, he is what he is. Mr. Bingley is the persuadable type, who listens to Mr. Darcy and Caroline Bingley about appropriate behavior and stays in London instead of pursuing Jane.

Mr. Knightley, while being one of my personal favorites, still sees fit to lecture Emma at times as if she is a child (though, to be honest, she is pretty clueless at times). Even Edmund Bertram falls for someone other than our female hero at first (charmed by a pretty face), before it is brought to his attention that the objection of his affections is not as worthy of them as he thought.

Edward Ferrars hides his engagement to Lucy Steele (in a time when hidden engagements was definitely not an upstanding action), forcing Elinor to learn about it in a most painful way, and thereby also forcing her to have to keep that secret herself. Captain Wentworth (this one pains me to admit), lets his hurt and pride get in the way of approaching Anne earlier, when if he had then they would not have had to wait so long to get back together.

The men in Ms. Austen's books who do come across as smooth, charming, and perfect are the worst: Wickham, who runs off with young unmarried Lydia and most likely would never have married her by his own volition; Willoughby, who is found out to have impregnated a young woman and then abandoned her, after which he leaves for London to find a heiress without informing Marianne of his intent; Frank Churchill, who hides his engagement to Jane Fairfax by flirting with Emma, and who is also shown to be pretty frivolous in Ms. Austen's eyes due to his going clear to London simply for a haircut; and Henry Crawford, he of the "lively and pleasant" manners, who flirts with both Bertram sisters and who, after being rejected by Fanny (the only one to see through him), runs off with married Maria for a short time, after which she is relegated to spending the rest of her days exiled with the horrible Aunt Norris.

I'm not saying we have to settle for any Mr. Collins who arrives in our lives. We don't all have to be as practical as Charlotte Lucas. However, we should think about being a bit more realistic in our expectations. We want that Prince Charming so much that we become like that woman in a current toothpaste ad: she sees a strange man across a cafe, and starts thinking that he could be her soulmate while pics of him, her, and their children float through her imagination. All she has to do is get him to talk to her, and to do that all she needs are that particular brand of whitening strips. No matter how much we love that man in our life, and no matter how many times we watch The Beauty and the Beast, our love will not change a beast into a prince. We need to accept him as he is, much like a used car, and if his ways are just not for us, then we may need to alter our expectations or move on.

Jane Austen's men did not wave glass slippers around. I'm not even sure I want one. A glass slipper, that is.