Kabanata Kabanata 1 · The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. Their estate

. 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.