Emma.pdf

Emma

Jane Austen

Volume I

Chapter I

E MMA W OODHOUSE , handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable

home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings

of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with

very little to distress or vex her.

She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate,

indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister's marriage, been

mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died

too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of

her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman as

governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection.

Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse's family, less

as a governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particu-

larly of Emma. Between them it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even

before Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal ofce of governess,

the mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any re-

straint; and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they

had been living together as friend and friend very mutually attached,

and Emma doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor's

judgment, but directed chiey by her own.

The real evils, indeed, of Emma's situation were the power of having

rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well

of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her

many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived,

that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.

E M M A

Sorrow camea gentle sorrowbut not at all in the shape of any

disagreeable consciousness.Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor's

loss which rst brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this beloved

friend that Emma rst sat in mournful thought of any continuance. The

wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father and herself were

left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to cheer a long evening.

Her father composed himself to sleep after dinner, as usual, and she had

then only to sit and think of what she had lost.

The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. We-

ston was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age,

and pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering

with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and

promoted the match; but it was a black morning's work for her. The

want of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled

her past kindnessthe kindness, the affection of sixteen yearshow she

had taught and how she had played with her from ve years oldhow

she had devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health

and how nursed her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large

debt of gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven

years, the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed

Isabella's marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a dearer,

tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such as

few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing all

the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and peculiarly inter-

ested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of hersone to whom

she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection

for her as could never nd fault.

How was she to bear the change?It was true that her friend was

going only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must

be the difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them,

and a Miss Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural

and domestic, she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual

solitude. She dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her.

He could not meet her in conversation, rational or playful.

The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had

not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits;

for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of mind

or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though

everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable

E M M A

temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time.

Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony,

being settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her

daily reach; and many a long October and November evening must be

struggled through at Harteld, before Christmas brought the next visit

from Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to ll the house,

and give her pleasant society again.

Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a

town, to which Harteld, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies,

and name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses

were rst in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many

acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil, but not

one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even

half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but sigh

over it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke, and made

it necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He was a

nervous man, easily depressed; fond of every body that he was used to,

and hating to part with them; hating change of every kind. Matrimony,

as the origin of change, was always disagreeable; and he was by no

means yet reconciled to his own daughter's marrying, nor could ever

speak of her but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match

of affection, when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor too; and

from his habits of gentle selshness, and of being never able to suppose

that other people could feel differently from himself, he was very much

disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for herself as for

them, and would have been a great deal happier if she had spent all the

rest of her life at Harteld. Emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully as

she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but when tea came, it was

impossible for him not to say exactly as he had said at dinner,

Poor Miss Taylor!I wish she were here again. What a pity it is

that Mr. Weston ever thought of her!

I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston

is such a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly

deserves a good wife;and you would not have had Miss Taylor live

with us for ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a

house of her own?

A house of her own!But where is the advantage of a house of

her own? This is three times as large.And you have never any odd

humours, my dear.

E M M A

How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see

us!We shall be always meeting! We must begin; we must go and pay

wedding visit very soon.

My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I

could not walk half so far.

No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the

carriage, to be sure.

The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such

a little way;and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying

our visit?

They are to be put into Mr. Weston's stable, papa. You know we

have settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. Weston last

night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going

to Randalls, because of his daughter's being housemaid there. I only

doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing,

papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah

till you mentioned herJames is so obliged to you!

I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not

have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I am

sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken girl;

I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always curtseys

and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you have

had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock of

the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an

excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor to

have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes

over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will be

able to tell her how we all are.

Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier ow of ideas,

and hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably

through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The

backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards

walked in and made it unnecessary.

Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was

not only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly

connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella's husband. He lived

about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always wel-

come, and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly

from their mutual connexions in London. He had returned to a late din-

E M M A

ner, after some days' absence, and now walked up to Harteld to say

that all were well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance,

and animated Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a

cheerful manner, which always did him good; and his many inquiries

after poor Isabella and her children were answered most satisfacto-

rily. When this was over, Mr. Woodhouse gratefully observed, It is

very kind of you, Mr. Knightley, to come out at this late hour to call

upon us. I am afraid you must have had a shocking walk.

Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I

must draw back from your great re.

But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may

not catch cold.

Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.

Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain

here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at break-

fast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.

By the byeI have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of

what sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with

my congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did

you all behave? Who cried most?

Ah! poor Miss Taylor! 'Tis a sad business.

Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly

say `poor Miss Taylor.' I have a great regard for you and Emma; but

when it comes to the question of dependence or independence!At any

rate, it must be better to have only one to please than two.

Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome

creature! said Emma playfully. That is what you have in your head, I

knowand what you would certainly say if my father were not by.

I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed, said Mr. Woodhouse, with

a sigh. I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.

My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean you , or suppose

Mr. Knightley to mean you . What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant

only myself. Mr. Knightley loves to nd fault with me, you knowin a

jokeit is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another.

Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults

in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and

though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew

it would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him

really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by

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