The Content and The Cover
Prologue
"Mary, are you coming to Meryton with me?" asked Elizabeth as she entered the room with her bonnet. "Mr Benedict informed me last week that some new books would arrive and I want to go and check his collection". Mary agreed and together the two sisters set out to the Meryton bookstore. There were few things which could be compared to the pleasure of reading books. Elizabeth who had just turned 18 had read all the major works of Shakespeare and her sister Mary who was 15 was trying to match her.
"Who is your favourite character from all the plays you have read Lizzy?" Mary enquired. "Hmm… I like many characters, but Beatrice would be my favourite. What about you? " Elizabeth responded. "Oh… I haven't read many plays. But I like Rosalind. She is so courageous". "That's true!" Elizabeth agreed turning around the corner and halting at the modest entrance to the bookstore. "Look here we are!"
Mr Benedict, an old man of two and seventy looked up from his book to see the familiar faces of the two Bennet girls. "Ah... Miss Lizzy, Miss Mary, good to see you. The new books are there on the shelf third row from the left."
"Thank you sir" Elizabeth replied, walking away to inspect the collection. Mary's attention however, was captured by the book beside the window. Its jacket was smooth and it was glowing in the morning sunlight. She walked towards it and held it to inspect its cover closely.
"Such a beautiful book! I think I will take it "Mary murmured. "Are you certain? "Mr Benedict enquired. Mary looked up to see the old man staring at her. "Yes! "She answered. "Why would I not? It is so beautiful!"
"What is beautiful Miss Mary, the content of the book or its cover? "Mr Benedict asked. "Eh…. What is the difference Sir? The….the….. book….it is the book that is beautiful , is it not ?" Mary answered confused by the old man's question.
"Ah… but... There is a difference. You see, covers can be very deceptive. The book that you hold, for instance, is about the technique of shooting. It is ultimately the content that is important not the cover. A book is to be termed good or beautiful for its content and not because it has a decorative cover.
"I do not understand" Mary said. "Do we not buy things or appreciate things for its beauty?"
"Yes we do,Miss Mary. But one must not completely judge something or someone sorely by their external projection or appearance. There is a beautiful butterfly in every caterpillar is there not? And the most beautiful diamond is made out of a mere coal. One should try to see and appreciate the beauty within and not simply notice the beauty outside. Here, let me show you something…"
Mary followed the old man to his table and looked at the book that he held. It was old and dusty, its pages were on the verge of falling apart and its jacket seemed to have served a meal or two for the mice. It surprised her that Mr Benedict would still keep such a torn book and her curiosity prompted her to enquire about it.
"Sir, why would you keep such a torn book? It is, I believe, beyond repair. Why not give it away and get a new one?
"It is the content that draws me to this book and not simply its cover. This is the Fordyce's sermon. When I was a young boy, I was suffering from a serious illness which would have left me blind. My mother gave this to me at that time. She used to read it to me every day and taught me to appreciate the richness of its content. It has since then always helped me in times of difficulty"
Mary took the book and opened it carefully. There in a very elegant hand was a note written by his mother:
My dearest son,
A clay pot having honey will be ranked higher than a golden pot having poison. It is not our outer glamour, but our inner virtues that make us valuable. Please always remember this.
Get well soon!
With all my love,
Your mother
Mary stared at the writing, It is not our outer glamour…It was so true and the wordings were so profound. Mary was extremely thankful that Mr Benedict had shown her this book. She looked at him with gratitude. "Sir, I can never tha…."
"Mary, are you done?" Called Elizabeth, her arms filled with books. "I found some really interesting books today. You do have a wonderful collection sir. I cannot wait to read them."
"I am glad you like them, Miss Lizzy" Mr Benedict smiled. "It is good to see a lady taking interest in things besides balls, suitors and laces."
Elizabeth laughed and after paying walked out of the shop. Mary told her to wait for her and turned to the old man.
"Sir, do you have a copy of the Fordyce's sermon?" she enquired "I would love to read the book, but I am not sure if I may be able to understand it completely".
"I am afraid not, my dear. But you can borrow my copy, mark the paragraphs which you find difficult to understand and return it to me when you are done. You can also come here whenever you are free and I will try to help you understand it" Mr Benedict replied.
"Are you certain sir? Will you truly let me borrow that book?"
"Yes my dear, I am sure."
Mr Benedict carefully packed his book and gave it to Mary. "Do remember my dear, in life always try to see the beauty of the content and not be blinded by the splendour of the cover"
"Yes sir, I will try. Thank you very much" Mary replied taking the book and happily walking home with her sister.
Mary, however, never got the opportunity of returning his book, for, Mr Benedict passed away a week later. But she did remember his words. They echoed in her mind every time her mother called her plain, every time she was teased for not having a dance partner or a suitor, every time her own treacherous mind doubted her own self-worth. Those words had echoed long after the spectacle she had made of herself at the Neatherfield ball. And every night as she gazed at the shining stars, her heart longed to find someone, anyone - a dog, a servant, a friend, a companion, a suitor, a lover or even a husband who would love her, for her. Who would love her, just as she was. That was what her heart longed for, like millions before her had and millions after her would, a simple wish, a simple desire – to love unconditionally …and ….to be loved unconditionally…