CHAPTER I.
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 sister. 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 bequeath it. 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 daughters. 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 age. By his own marriage,
likewise, which happened soon afterwards, he added to his wealth. 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 bequest. 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 woods. 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 and selfish.
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 attendants. 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 showing 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 in future. Elinor, too, was
deeply afflicted; but still she could struggle, she could exert herself. 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.
