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SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811)
The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex.
Their estate was large, and their residence was at Norland Park, in the centre of their
property, where, for many generations, they had lived in so respectable a manner as to
engage the general good opinion of their surrounding acquaintance.
The late owner of this estate was a single man, who lived to a very advanced age, and
who for many years of his life, had a constant companion and housekeeper in his
But her death, which happened ten years before his own, produced a great alteration
in his home; for to supply her loss, he invited and received into his house the
family of his nephew Mr. Henry Dashwood,
the legal inheritor of the Norland estate, and the person to whom he intended to
In the society of his nephew and niece, and their children, the old Gentleman's days
were comfortably spent. His attachment to them all increased.
The constant attention of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dashwood to his wishes, which
proceeded not merely from interest, but from goodness of heart, gave him every
degree of solid comfort which his age could
receive; and the cheerfulness of the children added a relish to his existence.
By a former marriage, Mr. Henry Dashwood had one son: by his present lady, three
The son, a steady respectable young man, was amply provided for by the fortune of
his mother, which had been large, and half of which devolved on him on his coming of
By his own marriage, likewise, which happened soon afterwards, he added to his
To him therefore the succession to the Norland estate was not so really important
as to his sisters; for their fortune, independent of what might arise to them
from their father's inheriting that property, could be but small.
Their mother had nothing, and their father only seven thousand pounds in his own
disposal; for the remaining moiety of his first wife's fortune was also secured to
her child, and he had only a life-interest in it.
The old gentleman died: his will was read, and like almost every other will, gave as
much disappointment as pleasure.
He was neither so unjust, nor so ungrateful, as to leave his estate from his
nephew;--but he left it to him on such terms as destroyed half the value of the
Mr. Dashwood had wished for it more for the sake of his wife and daughters than for
himself or his son;--but to his son, and his son's son, a child of four years old,
it was secured, in such a way, as to leave
to himself no power of providing for those who were most dear to him, and who most
needed a provision by any charge on the estate, or by any sale of its valuable
The whole was tied up for the benefit of this child, who, in occasional visits with
his father and mother at Norland, had so far gained on the affections of his uncle,
by such attractions as are by no means
unusual in children of two or three years old; an imperfect articulation, an earnest
desire of having his own way, many cunning tricks, and a great deal of noise, as to
outweigh all the value of all the attention
which, for years, he had received from his niece and her daughters.
He meant not to be unkind, however, and, as a mark of his affection for the three
girls, he left them a thousand pounds a- piece.
Mr. Dashwood's disappointment was, at first, severe; but his temper was cheerful
and sanguine; and he might reasonably hope to live many years, and by living
economically, lay by a considerable sum
from the produce of an estate already large, and capable of almost immediate
improvement. But the fortune, which had been so tardy in
coming, was his only one twelvemonth.
He survived his uncle no longer; and ten thousand pounds, including the late
legacies, was all that remained for his widow and daughters.
His son was sent for as soon as his danger was known, and to him Mr. Dashwood
recommended, with all the strength and urgency which illness could command, the
interest of his mother-in-law and sisters.
Mr. John Dashwood had not the strong feelings of the rest of the family; but he
was affected by a recommendation of such a nature at such a time, and he promised to
do every thing in his power to make them comfortable.
His father was rendered easy by such an assurance, and Mr. John Dashwood had then
leisure to consider how much there might prudently be in his power to do for them.
He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold hearted and rather
selfish is to be ill-disposed: but he was, in general, well respected; for he
conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties.
Had he married a more amiable woman, he might have been made still more respectable
than he was:--he might even have been made amiable himself; for he was very young when
he married, and very fond of his wife.
But Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself;--more narrow-minded
When he gave his promise to his father, he meditated within himself to increase the
fortunes of his sisters by the present of a thousand pounds a-piece.
He then really thought himself equal to it.
The prospect of four thousand a-year, in addition to his present income, besides the
remaining half of his own mother's fortune, warmed his heart, and made him feel capable
of generosity.-- "Yes, he would give them
three thousand pounds: it would be liberal and handsome!
It would be enough to make them completely easy.
Three thousand pounds! he could spare so considerable a sum with little
inconvenience."-- He thought of it all day long, and for many days successively, and
he did not repent.
No sooner was his father's funeral over, than Mrs. John Dashwood, without sending
any notice of her intention to her mother- in-law, arrived with her child and their
No one could dispute her right to come; the house was her husband's from the moment of
his father's decease; but the indelicacy of her conduct was so much the greater, and to
a woman in Mrs. Dashwood's situation, with
only common feelings, must have been highly unpleasing;--but in HER mind there was a
sense of honor so keen, a generosity so romantic, that any offence of the kind, by
whomsoever given or received, was to her a source of immovable disgust.
Mrs. John Dashwood had never been a favourite with any of her husband's family;
but she had had no opportunity, till the present, of shewing them with how little
attention to the comfort of other people she could act when occasion required it.
So acutely did Mrs. Dashwood feel this ungracious behaviour, and so earnestly did
she despise her daughter-in-law for it, that, on the arrival of the latter, she
would have quitted the house for ever, had
not the entreaty of her eldest girl induced her first to reflect on the propriety of
going, and her own tender love for all her three children determined her afterwards to
stay, and for their sakes avoid a breach with their brother.
Elinor, this eldest daughter, whose advice was so effectual, possessed a strength of
understanding, and coolness of judgment, which qualified her, though only nineteen,
to be the counsellor of her mother, and
enabled her frequently to counteract, to the advantage of them all, that eagerness
of mind in Mrs. Dashwood which must generally have led to imprudence.
She had an excellent heart;--her disposition was affectionate, and her
feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them: it was a knowledge which her
mother had yet to learn; and which one of
her sisters had resolved never to be taught.
Marianne's abilities were, in many respects, quite equal to Elinor's.
She was sensible and clever; but eager in everything: her sorrows, her joys, could
have no moderation. She was generous, amiable, interesting: she
was everything but prudent.
The resemblance between her and her mother was strikingly great.
Elinor saw, with concern, the excess of her sister's sensibility; but by Mrs. Dashwood
it was valued and cherished.
They encouraged each other now in the violence of their affliction.
The agony of grief which overpowered them at first, was voluntarily renewed, was
sought for, was created again and again.
They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow, seeking increase of wretchedness in
every reflection that could afford it, and resolved against ever admitting consolation
Elinor, too, was deeply afflicted; but still she could struggle, she could exert
She could consult with her brother, could receive her sister-in-law on her arrival,
and treat her with proper attention; and could strive to rouse her mother to similar
exertion, and encourage her to similar forbearance.
Margaret, the other sister, was a good- humored, well-disposed girl; but as she had
already imbibed a good deal of Marianne's romance, without having much of her sense,
she did not, at thirteen, bid fair to equal
her sisters at a more advanced period of life.
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811)
Mrs. John Dashwood now installed herself mistress of Norland; and her mother and
sisters-in-law were degraded to the condition of visitors.
As such, however, they were treated by her with quiet civility; and by her husband
with as much kindness as he could feel towards anybody beyond himself, his wife,
and their child.
He really pressed them, with some earnestness, to consider Norland as their
home; and, as no plan appeared so eligible to Mrs. Dashwood as remaining there till
she could accommodate herself with a house
in the neighbourhood, his invitation was accepted.
A continuance in a place where everything reminded her of former delight, was exactly
what suited her mind.
In seasons of cheerfulness, no temper could be more cheerful than hers, or possess, in
a greater degree, that sanguine expectation of happiness which is happiness itself.
But in sorrow she must be equally carried away by her fancy, and as far beyond
consolation as in pleasure she was beyond alloy.
Mrs. John Dashwood did not at all approve of what her husband intended to do for his
To take three thousand pounds from the fortune of their dear little boy would be
impoverishing him to the most dreadful degree.
She begged him to think again on the subject.
How could he answer it to himself to rob his child, and his only child too, of so
large a sum?
And what possible claim could the Miss Dashwoods, who were related to him only by
half blood, which she considered as no relationship at all, have on his generosity
to so large an amount.
It was very well known that no affection was ever supposed to exist between the
children of any man by different marriages; and why was he to ruin himself, and their
poor little Harry, by giving away all his money to his half sisters?
"It was my father's last request to me," replied her husband, "that I should assist
his widow and daughters."
"He did not know what he was talking of, I dare say; ten to one but he was light-
headed at the time.
Had he been in his right senses, he could not have thought of such a thing as begging
you to give away half your fortune from your own child."
"He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear Fanny; he only requested me,
in general terms, to assist them, and make their situation more comfortable than it
was in his power to do.
Perhaps it would have been as well if he had left it wholly to myself.
He could hardly suppose I should neglect them.
But as he required the promise, I could not do less than give it; at least I thought so
at the time. The promise, therefore, was given, and must
Something must be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new
"Well, then, LET something be done for them; but THAT something need not be three
thousand pounds. Consider," she added, "that when the money
is once parted with, it never can return.
Your sisters will marry, and it will be gone for ever.
If, indeed, it could be restored to our poor little boy--"
"Why, to be sure," said her husband, very gravely, "that would make great difference.
The time may come when Harry will regret that so large a sum was parted with.
If he should have a numerous family, for instance, it would be a very convenient
addition." "To be sure it would."
"Perhaps, then, it would be better for all parties, if the sum were diminished one
half.--Five hundred pounds would be a prodigious increase to their fortunes!"
"Oh! beyond anything great!
What brother on earth would do half so much for his sisters, even if REALLY his
sisters! And as it is--only half blood!--But you
have such a generous spirit!"
"I would not wish to do any thing mean," he replied.
"One had rather, on such occasions, do too much than too little.
No one, at least, can think I have not done enough for them: even themselves, they can
hardly expect more."
"There is no knowing what THEY may expect," said the lady, "but we are not to think of
their expectations: the question is, what you can afford to do."
"Certainly--and I think I may afford to give them five hundred pounds a-piece.
As it is, without any addition of mine, they will each have about three thousand
pounds on their mother's death--a very comfortable fortune for any young woman."
"To be sure it is; and, indeed, it strikes me that they can want no addition at all.
They will have ten thousand pounds divided amongst them.
If they marry, they will be sure of doing well, and if they do not, they may all live
very comfortably together on the interest of ten thousand pounds."
"That is very true, and, therefore, I do not know whether, upon the whole, it would
not be more advisable to do something for their mother while she lives, rather than
for them--something of the annuity kind I
mean.--My sisters would feel the good effects of it as well as herself.
A hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable."
His wife hesitated a little, however, in giving her consent to this plan.
"To be sure," said she, "it is better than parting with fifteen hundred pounds at
But, then, if Mrs. Dashwood should live fifteen years we shall be completely taken
in." "Fifteen years! my dear Fanny; her life
cannot be worth half that purchase."
"Certainly not; but if you observe, people always live for ever when there is an
annuity to be paid them; and she is very stout and healthy, and hardly forty.
An annuity is a very serious business; it comes over and over every year, and there
is no getting rid of it. You are not aware of what you are doing.
I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with
the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father's will, and it is
amazing how disagreeable she found it.
Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of
getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it
turned out to be no such thing.
My mother was quite sick of it.
Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the
more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been
entirely at my mother's disposal, without any restriction whatever.
It has given me such an abhorrence of annuities, that I am sure I would not pin
myself down to the payment of one for all the world."
"It is certainly an unpleasant thing," replied Mr. Dashwood, "to have those kind
of yearly drains on one's income. One's fortune, as your mother justly says,
is NOT one's own.
To be tied down to the regular payment of such a sum, on every rent day, is by no
means desirable: it takes away one's independence."
"Undoubtedly; and after all you have no thanks for it.
They think themselves secure, you do no more than what is expected, and it raises
no gratitude at all.
If I were you, whatever I did should be done at my own discretion entirely.
I would not bind myself to allow them any thing yearly.
It may be very inconvenient some years to spare a hundred, or even fifty pounds from
our own expenses."
"I believe you are right, my love; it will be better that there should be no annuity
in the case; whatever I may give them occasionally will be of far greater
assistance than a yearly allowance, because
they would only enlarge their style of living if they felt sure of a larger
income, and would not be sixpence the richer for it at the end of the year.
It will certainly be much the best way.
A present of fifty pounds, now and then, will prevent their ever being distressed
for money, and will, I think, be amply discharging my promise to my father."
"To be sure it will.
Indeed, to say the truth, I am convinced within myself that your father had no idea
of your giving them any money at all.
The assistance he thought of, I dare say, was only such as might be reasonably
expected of you; for instance, such as looking out for a comfortable small house
for them, helping them to move their
things, and sending them presents of fish and game, and so forth, whenever they are
I'll lay my life that he meant nothing farther; indeed, it would be very strange
and unreasonable if he did.
Do but consider, my dear Mr. Dashwood, how excessively comfortable your mother-in-law
and her daughters may live on the interest of seven thousand pounds, besides the
thousand pounds belonging to each of the
girls, which brings them in fifty pounds a year a-piece, and, of course, they will pay
their mother for their board out of it.
Altogether, they will have five hundred a- year amongst them, and what on earth can
four women want for more than that?--They will live so cheap!
Their housekeeping will be nothing at all.
They will have no carriage, no horses, and hardly any servants; they will keep no
company, and can have no expenses of any kind!
Only conceive how comfortable they will be!
Five hundred a year! I am sure I cannot imagine how they will
spend half of it; and as to your giving them more, it is quite absurd to think of
They will be much more able to give YOU something."
"Upon my word," said Mr. Dashwood, "I believe you are perfectly right.
My father certainly could mean nothing more by his request to me than what you say.
I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly fulfil my engagement by such acts
of assistance and kindness to them as you have described.
When my mother removes into another house my services shall be readily given to
accommodate her as far as I can. Some little present of furniture too may be
"Certainly," returned Mrs. John Dashwood. "But, however, ONE thing must be
When your father and mother moved to Norland, though the furniture of Stanhill
was sold, all the china, plate, and linen was saved, and is now left to your mother.
Her house will therefore be almost completely fitted up as soon as she takes
it." "That is a material consideration
A valuable legacy indeed! And yet some of the plate would have been a
very pleasant addition to our own stock here."
"Yes; and the set of breakfast china is twice as handsome as what belongs to this
A great deal too handsome, in my opinion, for any place THEY can ever afford to live
in. But, however, so it is.
Your father thought only of THEM.
And I must say this: that you owe no particular gratitude to him, nor attention
to his wishes; for we very well know that if he could, he would have left almost
everything in the world to THEM."
This argument was irresistible.
It gave to his intentions whatever of decision was wanting before; and he finally
resolved, that it would be absolutely unnecessary, if not highly indecorous, to
do more for the widow and children of his
father, than such kind of neighbourly acts as his own wife pointed out.
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811)
Mrs. Dashwood remained at Norland several months; not from any disinclination to move
when the sight of every well known spot ceased to raise the violent emotion which
it produced for a while; for when her
spirits began to revive, and her mind became capable of some other exertion than
that of heightening its affliction by melancholy remembrances, she was impatient
to be gone, and indefatigable in her
inquiries for a suitable dwelling in the neighbourhood of Norland; for to remove far
from that beloved spot was impossible.
But she could hear of no situation that at once answered her notions of comfort and
ease, and suited the prudence of her eldest daughter, whose steadier judgment rejected
several houses as too large for their
income, which her mother would have approved.
Mrs. Dashwood had been informed by her husband of the solemn promise on the part
of his son in their favour, which gave comfort to his last earthly reflections.
She doubted the sincerity of this assurance no more than he had doubted it himself, and
she thought of it for her daughters' sake with satisfaction, though as for herself
she was persuaded that a much smaller
provision than 7000L would support her in affluence.
For their brother's sake, too, for the sake of his own heart, she rejoiced; and she
reproached herself for being unjust to his merit before, in believing him incapable of
His attentive behaviour to herself and his sisters convinced her that their welfare
was dear to him, and, for a long time, she firmly relied on the liberality of his
The contempt which she had, very early in their acquaintance, felt for her daughter-
in-law, was very much increased by the farther knowledge of her character, which
half a year's residence in her family
afforded; and perhaps in spite of every consideration of politeness or maternal
affection on the side of the former, the two ladies might have found it impossible
to have lived together so long, had not a
particular circumstance occurred to give still greater eligibility, according to the
opinions of Mrs. Dashwood, to her daughters' continuance at Norland.
This circumstance was a growing attachment between her eldest girl and the brother of
Mrs. John Dashwood, a gentleman-like and pleasing young man, who was introduced to
their acquaintance soon after his sister's
establishment at Norland, and who had since spent the greatest part of his time there.
Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of interest, for
Edward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died very rich; and some might have
repressed it from motives of prudence, for,
except a trifling sum, the whole of his fortune depended on the will of his mother.
But Mrs. Dashwood was alike uninfluenced by either consideration.
It was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and
that Elinor returned the partiality.
It was contrary to every doctrine of hers that difference of fortune should keep any
couple asunder who were attracted by resemblance of disposition; and that
Elinor's merit should not be acknowledged
by every one who knew her, was to her comprehension impossible.
Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their good opinion by any peculiar graces of
person or address.
He was not handsome, and his manners required intimacy to make them pleasing.
He was too diffident to do justice to himself; but when his natural shyness was
overcome, his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart.
His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement.
But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to answer the wishes of his
mother and sister, who longed to see him distinguished--as--they hardly knew what.
They wanted him to make a fine figure in the world in some manner or other.
His mother wished to interest him in political concerns, to get him into
parliament, or to see him connected with some of the great men of the day.
Mrs. John Dashwood wished it likewise; but in the mean while, till one of these
superior blessings could be attained, it would have quieted her ambition to see him
driving a barouche.
But Edward had no turn for great men or barouches.
All his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life.
Fortunately he had a younger brother who was more promising.
Edward had been staying several weeks in the house before he engaged much of Mrs.
Dashwood's attention; for she was, at that time, in such affliction as rendered her
careless of surrounding objects.
She saw only that he was quiet and unobtrusive, and she liked him for it.
He did not disturb the wretchedness of her mind by ill-timed conversation.
She was first called to observe and approve him farther, by a reflection which Elinor
chanced one day to make on the difference between him and his sister.
It was a contrast which recommended him most forcibly to her mother.
"It is enough," said she; "to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough.
It implies everything amiable.
I love him already." "I think you will like him," said Elinor,
"when you know more of him." "Like him!" replied her mother with a
"I feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love."
"You may esteem him." "I have never yet known what it was to
separate esteem and love."
Mrs. Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted with him.
Her manners were attaching, and soon banished his reserve.
She speedily comprehended all his merits; the persuasion of his regard for Elinor
perhaps assisted her penetration; but she really felt assured of his worth: and even
that quietness of manner, which militated
against all her established ideas of what a young man's address ought to be, was no
longer uninteresting when she knew his heart to be warm and his temper
No sooner did she perceive any symptom of love in his behaviour to Elinor, than she
considered their serious attachment as certain, and looked forward to their
marriage as rapidly approaching.
"In a few months, my dear Marianne." said she, "Elinor will, in all probability be
settled for life. We shall miss her; but SHE will be happy."
"Oh! Mama, how shall we do without her?"
"My love, it will be scarcely a separation. We shall live within a few miles of each
other, and shall meet every day of our lives.
You will gain a brother, a real, affectionate brother.
I have the highest opinion in the world of Edward's heart.
But you look grave, Marianne; do you disapprove your sister's choice?"
"Perhaps," said Marianne, "I may consider it with some surprise.
Edward is very amiable, and I love him tenderly.
But yet--he is not the kind of young man-- there is something wanting--his figure is
not striking; it has none of that grace which I should expect in the man who could
seriously attach my sister.
His eyes want all that spirit, that fire, which at once announce virtue and
intelligence. And besides all this, I am afraid, Mama, he
has no real taste.
Music seems scarcely to attract him, and though he admires Elinor's drawings very
much, it is not the admiration of a person who can understand their worth.
It is evident, in spite of his frequent attention to her while she draws, that in
fact he knows nothing of the matter. He admires as a lover, not as a
To satisfy me, those characters must be united.
I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my
He must enter into all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us
Oh! mama, how spiritless, how tame was Edward's manner in reading to us last
night! I felt for my sister most severely.
Yet she bore it with so much composure, she seemed scarcely to notice it.
I could hardly keep my seat.
To hear those beautiful lines which have frequently almost driven me wild,
pronounced with such impenetrable calmness, such dreadful indifference!"-- "He would
certainly have done more justice to simple and elegant prose.
I thought so at the time; but you WOULD give him Cowper."
"Nay, Mama, if he is not to be animated by Cowper!--but we must allow for difference
of taste. Elinor has not my feelings, and therefore
she may overlook it, and be happy with him.
But it would have broke MY heart, had I loved him, to hear him read with so little
Mama, the more I know of the world, the more am I convinced that I shall never see
a man whom I can really love. I require so much!
He must have all Edward's virtues, and his person and manners must ornament his
goodness with every possible charm." "Remember, my love, that you are not
It is yet too early in life to despair of such a happiness.
Why should you be less fortunate than your mother?
In one circumstance only, my Marianne, may your destiny be different from hers!"
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811)
"What a pity it is, Elinor," said Marianne, "that Edward should have no taste for
drawing." "No taste for drawing!" replied Elinor,
"why should you think so?
He does not draw himself, indeed, but he has great pleasure in seeing the
performances of other people, and I assure you he is by no means deficient in natural
taste, though he has not had opportunities of improving it.
Had he ever been in the way of learning, I think he would have drawn very well.
He distrusts his own judgment in such matters so much, that he is always
unwilling to give his opinion on any picture; but he has an innate propriety and
simplicity of taste, which in general direct him perfectly right."
Marianne was afraid of offending, and said no more on the subject; but the kind of
approbation which Elinor described as excited in him by the drawings of other
people, was very far from that rapturous
delight, which, in her opinion, could alone be called taste.
Yet, though smiling within herself at the mistake, she honoured her sister for that
blind partiality to Edward which produced it.
"I hope, Marianne," continued Elinor, "you do not consider him as deficient in general
Indeed, I think I may say that you cannot, for your behaviour to him is perfectly
cordial, and if THAT were your opinion, I am sure you could never be civil to him."
Marianne hardly knew what to say.
She would not wound the feelings of her sister on any account, and yet to say what
she did not believe was impossible. At length she replied:
"Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in every thing equal to your
sense of his merits.
I have not had so many opportunities of estimating the minuter propensities of his
mind, his inclinations and tastes, as you have; but I have the highest opinion in the
world of his goodness and sense.
I think him every thing that is worthy and amiable."
"I am sure," replied Elinor, with a smile, "that his dearest friends could not be
dissatisfied with such commendation as that.
I do not perceive how you could express yourself more warmly."
Marianne was rejoiced to find her sister so easily pleased.
"Of his sense and his goodness," continued Elinor, "no one can, I think, be in doubt,
who has seen him often enough to engage him in unreserved conversation.
The excellence of his understanding and his principles can be concealed only by that
shyness which too often keeps him silent. You know enough of him to do justice to his
But of his minuter propensities, as you call them you have from peculiar
circumstances been kept more ignorant than myself.
He and I have been at times thrown a good deal together, while you have been wholly
engrossed on the most affectionate principle by my mother.
I have seen a great deal of him, have studied his sentiments and heard his
opinion on subjects of literature and taste; and, upon the whole, I venture to
pronounce that his mind is well-informed,
enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination lively, his observation just
and correct, and his taste delicate and pure.
His abilities in every respect improve as much upon acquaintance as his manners and
At first sight, his address is certainly not striking; and his person can hardly be
called handsome, till the expression of his eyes, which are uncommonly good, and the
general sweetness of his countenance, is perceived.
At present, I know him so well, that I think him really handsome; or at least,
What say you, Marianne?" "I shall very soon think him handsome,
Elinor, if I do not now.
When you tell me to love him as a brother, I shall no more see imperfection in his
face, than I now do in his heart."
Elinor started at this declaration, and was sorry for the warmth she had been betrayed
into, in speaking of him. She felt that Edward stood very high in her
She believed the regard to be mutual; but she required greater certainty of it to
make Marianne's conviction of their attachment agreeable to her.
She knew that what Marianne and her mother conjectured one moment, they believed the
next--that with them, to wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect.
She tried to explain the real state of the case to her sister.
"I do not attempt to deny," said she, "that I think very highly of him--that I greatly
esteem, that I like him."
Marianne here burst forth with indignation- -
"Esteem him! Like him!
Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise.
Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment."
Elinor could not help laughing.
"Excuse me," said she; "and be assured that I meant no offence to you, by speaking, in
so quiet a way, of my own feelings.
Believe them to be stronger than I have declared; believe them, in short, to be
such as his merit, and the suspicion--the hope of his affection for me may warrant,
without imprudence or folly.
But farther than this you must not believe. I am by no means assured of his regard for
There are moments when the extent of it seems doubtful; and till his sentiments are
fully known, you cannot wonder at my wishing to avoid any encouragement of my
own partiality, by believing or calling it more than it is.
In my heart I feel little--scarcely any doubt of his preference.
But there are other points to be considered besides his inclination.
He is very far from being independent.
What his mother really is we cannot know; but, from Fanny's occasional mention of her
conduct and opinions, we have never been disposed to think her amiable; and I am
very much mistaken if Edward is not himself
aware that there would be many difficulties in his way, if he were to wish to marry a
woman who had not either a great fortune or high rank."
Marianne was astonished to find how much the imagination of her mother and herself
had outstripped the truth. "And you really are not engaged to him!"
"Yet it certainly soon will happen. But two advantages will proceed from this
I shall not lose you so soon, and Edward will have greater opportunity of improving
that natural taste for your favourite pursuit which must be so indispensably
necessary to your future felicity.
Oh! if he should be so far stimulated by your genius as to learn to draw himself,
how delightful it would be!" Elinor had given her real opinion to her
She could not consider her partiality for Edward in so prosperous a state as Marianne
had believed it.
There was, at times, a want of spirits about him which, if it did not denote
indifference, spoke of something almost as unpromising.
A doubt of her regard, supposing him to feel it, need not give him more than
It would not be likely to produce that dejection of mind which frequently attended
A more reasonable cause might be found in the dependent situation which forbade the
indulgence of his affection.
She knew that his mother neither behaved to him so as to make his home comfortable at
present, nor to give him any assurance that he might form a home for himself, without
strictly attending to her views for his aggrandizement.
With such a knowledge as this, it was impossible for Elinor to feel easy on the
She was far from depending on that result of his preference of her, which her mother
and sister still considered as certain.
Nay, the longer they were together the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard;
and sometimes, for a few painful minutes, she believed it to be no more than
But, whatever might really be its limits, it was enough, when perceived by his
sister, to make her uneasy, and at the same time, (which was still more common,) to
make her uncivil.
She took the first opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law on the
occasion, talking to her so expressively of her brother's great expectations, of Mrs.
Ferrars's resolution that both her sons
should marry well, and of the danger attending any young woman who attempted to
DRAW HIM IN; that Mrs. Dashwood could neither pretend to be unconscious, nor
endeavor to be calm.
She gave her an answer which marked her contempt, and instantly left the room,
resolving that, whatever might be the inconvenience or expense of so sudden a
removal, her beloved Elinor should not be exposed another week to such insinuations.
In this state of her spirits, a letter was delivered to her from the post, which
contained a proposal particularly well timed.
It was the offer of a small house, on very easy terms, belonging to a relation of her
own, a gentleman of consequence and property in Devonshire.
The letter was from this gentleman himself, and written in the true spirit of friendly
He understood that she was in need of a dwelling; and though the house he now
offered her was merely a cottage, he assured her that everything should be done
to it which she might think necessary, if the situation pleased her.
He earnestly pressed her, after giving the particulars of the house and garden, to
come with her daughters to Barton Park, the place of his own residence, from whence she
might judge, herself, whether Barton
Cottage, for the houses were in the same parish, could, by any alteration, be made
comfortable to her.
He seemed really anxious to accommodate them and the whole of his letter was
written in so friendly a style as could not fail of giving pleasure to his cousin; more
especially at a moment when she was
suffering under the cold and unfeeling behaviour of her nearer connections.
She needed no time for deliberation or inquiry.
Her resolution was formed as she read.
The situation of Barton, in a county so far distant from Sussex as Devonshire, which,
but a few hours before, would have been a sufficient objection to outweigh every
possible advantage belonging to the place, was now its first recommendation.
To quit the neighbourhood of Norland was no longer an evil; it was an object of desire;
it was a blessing, in comparison of the misery of continuing her daughter-in-law's
guest; and to remove for ever from that
beloved place would be less painful than to inhabit or visit it while such a woman was
She instantly wrote Sir John Middleton her acknowledgment of his kindness, and her
acceptance of his proposal; and then hastened to shew both letters to her
daughters, that she might be secure of
their approbation before her answer were sent.
Elinor had always thought it would be more prudent for them to settle at some distance
from Norland, than immediately amongst their present acquaintance.
On THAT head, therefore, it was not for her to oppose her mother's intention of
removing into Devonshire.
The house, too, as described by Sir John, was on so simple a scale, and the rent so
uncommonly moderate, as to leave her no right of objection on either point; and,
therefore, though it was not a plan which
brought any charm to her fancy, though it was a removal from the vicinity of Norland
beyond her wishes, she made no attempt to dissuade her mother from sending a letter
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811)
No sooner was her answer dispatched, than Mrs. Dashwood indulged herself in the
pleasure of announcing to her son-in-law and his wife that she was provided with a
house, and should incommode them no longer
than till every thing were ready for her inhabiting it.
They heard her with surprise.
Mrs. John Dashwood said nothing; but her husband civilly hoped that she would not be
settled far from Norland.
She had great satisfaction in replying that she was going into Devonshire.--Edward
turned hastily towards her, on hearing this, and, in a voice of surprise and
concern, which required no explanation to her, repeated, "Devonshire!
Are you, indeed, going there? So far from hence!
And to what part of it?"
She explained the situation. It was within four miles northward of
Exeter. "It is but a cottage," she continued, "but
I hope to see many of my friends in it.
A room or two can easily be added; and if my friends find no difficulty in travelling
so far to see me, I am sure I will find none in accommodating them."
She concluded with a very kind invitation to Mr. and Mrs. John Dashwood to visit her
at Barton; and to Edward she gave one with still greater affection.
Though her late conversation with her daughter-in-law had made her resolve on
remaining at Norland no longer than was unavoidable, it had not produced the
smallest effect on her in that point to which it principally tended.
To separate Edward and Elinor was as far from being her object as ever; and she
wished to show Mrs. John Dashwood, by this pointed invitation to her brother, how
totally she disregarded her disapprobation of the match.
Mr. John Dashwood told his mother again and again how exceedingly sorry he was that she
had taken a house at such a distance from Norland as to prevent his being of any
service to her in removing her furniture.
He really felt conscientiously vexed on the occasion; for the very exertion to which he
had limited the performance of his promise to his father was by this arrangement
rendered impracticable.-- The furniture was all sent around by water.
It chiefly consisted of household linen, plate, china, and books, with a handsome
pianoforte of Marianne's.
Mrs. John Dashwood saw the packages depart with a sigh: she could not help feeling it
hard that as Mrs. Dashwood's income would be so trifling in comparison with their
own, she should have any handsome article of furniture.
Mrs. Dashwood took the house for a twelvemonth; it was ready furnished, and
she might have immediate possession.
No difficulty arose on either side in the agreement; and she waited only for the
disposal of her effects at Norland, and to determine her future household, before she
set off for the west; and this, as she was
exceedingly rapid in the performance of everything that interested her, was soon
done.--The horses which were left her by her husband had been sold soon after his
death, and an opportunity now offering of
disposing of her carriage, she agreed to sell that likewise at the earnest advice of
her eldest daughter.
For the comfort of her children, had she consulted only her own wishes, she would
have kept it; but the discretion of Elinor prevailed.
HER wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man,
with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their
establishment at Norland.
The man and one of the maids were sent off immediately into Devonshire, to prepare the
house for their mistress's arrival; for as Lady Middleton was entirely unknown to Mrs.
Dashwood, she preferred going directly to
the cottage to being a visitor at Barton Park; and she relied so undoubtingly on Sir
John's description of the house, as to feel no curiosity to examine it herself till she
entered it as her own.
Her eagerness to be gone from Norland was preserved from diminution by the evident
satisfaction of her daughter-in-law in the prospect of her removal; a satisfaction
which was but feebly attempted to be
concealed under a cold invitation to her to defer her departure.
Now was the time when her son-in-law's promise to his father might with particular
propriety be fulfilled.
Since he had neglected to do it on first coming to the estate, their quitting his
house might be looked on as the most suitable period for its accomplishment.
But Mrs. Dashwood began shortly to give over every hope of the kind, and to be
convinced, from the general drift of his discourse, that his assistance extended no
farther than their maintenance for six months at Norland.
He so frequently talked of the increasing expenses of housekeeping, and of the
perpetual demands upon his purse, which a man of any consequence in the world was
beyond calculation exposed to, that he
seemed rather to stand in need of more money himself than to have any design of
giving money away.
In a very few weeks from the day which brought Sir John Middleton's first letter
to Norland, every thing was so far settled in their future abode as to enable Mrs.
Dashwood and her daughters to begin their journey.
Many were the tears shed by them in their last adieus to a place so much beloved.
"Dear, dear Norland!" said Marianne, as she wandered alone before the house, on the
last evening of their being there; "when shall I cease to regret you!--when learn to
feel a home elsewhere!--Oh! happy house,
could you know what I suffer in now viewing you from this spot, from whence perhaps I
may view you no more!--And you, ye well- known trees!--but you will continue the
same.--No leaf will decay because we are
removed, nor any branch become motionless although we can observe you no longer!--No;
you will continue the same; unconscious of the pleasure or the regret you occasion,
and insensible of any change in those who
walk under your shade!--But who will remain to enjoy you?"
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811)
The first part of their journey was performed in too melancholy a disposition
to be otherwise than tedious and unpleasant.
But as they drew towards the end of it, their interest in the appearance of a
country which they were to inhabit overcame their dejection, and a view of Barton
Valley as they entered it gave them cheerfulness.
It was a pleasant fertile spot, well wooded, and rich in pasture.
After winding along it for more than a mile, they reached their own house.
A small green court was the whole of its demesne in front; and a neat wicket gate
admitted them into it.
As a house, Barton Cottage, though small, was comfortable and compact; but as a
cottage it was defective, for the building was regular, the roof was tiled, the window
shutters were not painted green, nor were the walls covered with honeysuckles.
A narrow passage led directly through the house into the garden behind.
On each side of the entrance was a sitting room, about sixteen feet square; and beyond
them were the offices and the stairs. Four bed-rooms and two garrets formed the
rest of the house.
It had not been built many years and was in good repair.
In comparison of Norland, it was poor and small indeed!--but the tears which
recollection called forth as they entered the house were soon dried away.
They were cheered by the joy of the servants on their arrival, and each for the
sake of the others resolved to appear happy.
It was very early in September; the season was fine, and from first seeing the place
under the advantage of good weather, they received an impression in its favour which
was of material service in recommending it to their lasting approbation.
The situation of the house was good.
High hills rose immediately behind, and at no great distance on each side; some of
which were open downs, the others cultivated and woody.
The village of Barton was chiefly on one of these hills, and formed a pleasant view
from the cottage windows.
The prospect in front was more extensive; it commanded the whole of the valley, and
reached into the country beyond.
The hills which surrounded the cottage terminated the valley in that direction;
under another name, and in another course, it branched out again between two of the
steepest of them.
With the size and furniture of the house Mrs. Dashwood was upon the whole well
satisfied; for though her former style of life rendered many additions to the latter
indispensable, yet to add and improve was a
delight to her; and she had at this time ready money enough to supply all that was
wanted of greater elegance to the apartments.
"As for the house itself, to be sure," said she, "it is too small for our family, but
we will make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the present, as it is too
late in the year for improvements.
Perhaps in the spring, if I have plenty of money, as I dare say I shall, we may think
These parlors are both too small for such parties of our friends as I hope to see
often collected here; and I have some thoughts of throwing the passage into one
of them with perhaps a part of the other,
and so leave the remainder of that other for an entrance; this, with a new drawing
room which may be easily added, and a bed- chamber and garret above, will make it a
very snug little cottage.
I could wish the stairs were handsome. But one must not expect every thing; though
I suppose it would be no difficult matter to widen them.
I shall see how much I am before-hand with the world in the spring, and we will plan
our improvements accordingly."
In the mean time, till all these alterations could be made from the savings
of an income of five hundred a-year by a woman who never saved in her life, they
were wise enough to be contented with the
house as it was; and each of them was busy in arranging their particular concerns, and
endeavoring, by placing around them books and other possessions, to form themselves a
Marianne's pianoforte was unpacked and properly disposed of; and Elinor's drawings
were affixed to the walls of their sitting room.
In such employments as these they were interrupted soon after breakfast the next
day by the entrance of their landlord, who called to welcome them to Barton, and to
offer them every accommodation from his own
house and garden in which theirs might at present be deficient.
Sir John Middleton was a good looking man about forty.
He had formerly visited at Stanhill, but it was too long for his young cousins to
His countenance was thoroughly good- humoured; and his manners were as friendly
as the style of his letter.
Their arrival seemed to afford him real satisfaction, and their comfort to be an
object of real solicitude to him.
He said much of his earnest desire of their living in the most sociable terms with his
family, and pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton Park every day till they
were better settled at home, that, though
his entreaties were carried to a point of perseverance beyond civility, they could
not give offence.
His kindness was not confined to words; for within an hour after he left them, a large
basket full of garden stuff and fruit arrived from the park, which was followed
before the end of the day by a present of game.
He insisted, moreover, on conveying all their letters to and from the post for
them, and would not be denied the satisfaction of sending them his newspaper
Lady Middleton had sent a very civil message by him, denoting her intention of
waiting on Mrs. Dashwood as soon as she could be assured that her visit would be no
inconvenience; and as this message was
answered by an invitation equally polite, her ladyship was introduced to them the
They were, of course, very anxious to see a person on whom so much of their comfort at
Barton must depend; and the elegance of her appearance was favourable to their wishes.
Lady Middleton was not more than six or seven and twenty; her face was handsome,
her figure tall and striking, and her address graceful.
Her manners had all the elegance which her husband's wanted.
But they would have been improved by some share of his frankness and warmth; and her
visit was long enough to detract something from their first admiration, by shewing
that, though perfectly well-bred, she was
reserved, cold, and had nothing to say for herself beyond the most common-place
inquiry or remark.
Conversation however was not wanted, for Sir John was very chatty, and Lady
Middleton had taken the wise precaution of bringing with her their eldest child, a
fine little boy about six years old, by
which means there was one subject always to be recurred to by the ladies in case of
extremity, for they had to enquire his name and age, admire his beauty, and ask him
questions which his mother answered for
him, while he hung about her and held down his head, to the great surprise of her
ladyship, who wondered at his being so shy before company, as he could make noise
enough at home.
On every formal visit a child ought to be of the party, by way of provision for
In the present case it took up ten minutes to determine whether the boy were most like
his father or mother, and in what particular he resembled either, for of
course every body differed, and every body
was astonished at the opinion of the others.
An opportunity was soon to be given to the Dashwoods of debating on the rest of the
children, as Sir John would not leave the house without securing their promise of
dining at the park the next day.
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY by Jane Austen (1811)
Barton Park was about half a mile from the cottage.
The ladies had passed near it in their way along the valley, but it was screened from
their view at home by the projection of a hill.
The house was large and handsome; and the Middletons lived in a style of equal
hospitality and elegance.
The former was for Sir John's gratification, the latter for that of his
They were scarcely ever without some friends staying with them in the house, and
they kept more company of every kind than any other family in the neighbourhood.
It was necessary to the happiness of both; for however dissimilar in temper and
outward behaviour, they strongly resembled each other in that total want of talent and
taste which confined their employments,
unconnected with such as society produced, within a very narrow compass.
Sir John was a sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother.
He hunted and shot, and she humoured her children; and these were their only
Lady Middleton had the advantage of being able to spoil her children all the year
round, while Sir John's independent employments were in existence only half the
Continual engagements at home and abroad, however, supplied all the deficiencies of
nature and education; supported the good spirits of Sir John, and gave exercise to
the good breeding of his wife.
Lady Middleton piqued herself upon the elegance of her table, and of all her
domestic arrangements; and from this kind of vanity was her greatest enjoyment in any
of their parties.
But Sir John's satisfaction in society was much more real; he delighted in collecting
about him more young people than his house would hold, and the noisier they were the
better was he pleased.
He was a blessing to all the juvenile part of the neighbourhood, for in summer he was
for ever forming parties to eat cold ham and chicken out of doors, and in winter his
private balls were numerous enough for any
young lady who was not suffering under the unsatiable appetite of fifteen.
The arrival of a new family in the country was always a matter of joy to him, and in
every point of view he was charmed with the inhabitants he had now procured for his
cottage at Barton.
The Miss Dashwoods were young, pretty, and unaffected.
It was enough to secure his good opinion; for to be unaffected was all that a pretty
girl could want to make her mind as captivating as her person.
The friendliness of his disposition made him happy in accommodating those, whose
situation might be considered, in comparison with the past, as unfortunate.
In showing kindness to his cousins therefore he had the real satisfaction of a
good heart; and in settling a family of females only in his cottage, he had all the
satisfaction of a sportsman; for a
sportsman, though he esteems only those of his sex who are sportsmen likewise, is not