Emma
charm and all the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet!—I would not change
you for the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female
breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax!—Harriet is worth a
hundred such—And for a wife—a sensible man’s wife—it is invaluable. I
mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!”
CHAPTER XIV
Mrs. Elton was first seen at church: but though devotion might be
interrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew, and
it must be left for the visits in form which were then to be paid, to
settle whether she were very pretty indeed, or only rather pretty, or
not pretty at all.
Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of pride or propriety, to
make her resolve on not being the last to pay her respects; and she
made a point of Harriet’s going with her, that the worst of the
business might be gone through as soon as possible.
She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room to
which she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago, to
lace up her boot, without _recollecting_. A thousand vexatious thoughts
would recur. Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was
not to be supposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too;
but she behaved very well, and was only rather pale and silent. The
visit was of course short; and there was so much embarrassment and
occupation of mind to shorten it, that Emma would not allow herself
entirely to form an opinion of the lady, and on no account to give one,
beyond the nothing-meaning terms of being “elegantly dressed, and very
pleasing.”
She did not really like her. She would not be in a hurry to find fault,
but she suspected that there was no elegance;—ease, but not elegance.—
She was almost sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there
was too much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty;
but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma
thought at least it would turn out so.
As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear—but no, she would not
permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was
an awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a
man had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman
was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the
privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to
depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor Mr.
Elton was in being in the same room at once with the woman he had just
married, the woman he had wanted to marry, and the woman whom he had
been expected to marry, she must allow him to have the right to look as
little wise, and to be as much affectedly, and as little really easy as
could be.
“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” said Harriet, when they had quitted the house,
and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin; “Well, Miss
Woodhouse, (with a gentle sigh,) what do you think of her?—Is not she
very charming?”
There was a little hesitation in Emma’s answer.
“Oh! yes—very—a very pleasing young woman.”
“I think her beautiful, quite beautiful.”
“Very nicely dressed, indeed; a remarkably elegant gown.”
“I am not at all surprized that he should have fallen in love.”
“Oh! no—there is nothing to surprize one at all.—A pretty fortune; and
she came in his way.”
“I dare say,” returned Harriet, sighing again, “I dare say she was very
much attached to him.”
“Perhaps she might; but it is not every man’s fate to marry the woman
who loves him best. Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thought
this the best offer she was likely to have.”
“Yes,” said Harriet earnestly, “and well she might, nobody could ever
have a better. Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, Miss
Woodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just as
superior as ever;—but being married, you know, it is quite a different
thing. No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need not be afraid; I can sit
and admire him now without any great misery. To know that he has not
thrown himself away, is such a comfort!—She does seem a charming young
woman, just what he deserves. Happy creature! He called her ‘Augusta.’
How delightful!”
When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind. She could then see
more and judge better. From Harriet’s happening not to be at Hartfield,
and her father’s being present to engage Mr. Elton, she had a quarter
of an hour of the lady’s conversation to herself, and could composedly
attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that Mrs.
Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself, and
thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine and be
very superior, but with manners which had been formed in a bad school,
pert and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from one set of
people, and one style of living; that if not foolish she was ignorant,
and that her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no good.
Harriet would have been a better match. If not wise or refined herself,
she would have connected him with those who were; but Miss Hawkins, it
might be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best of
her own set. The rich brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride of the
alliance, and his place and his carriages were the pride of him.
The very first subject after being seated was Maple Grove, “My brother
Mr. Suckling’s seat;”—a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. The
grounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house was
modern and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed by
the size of the room, the entrance, and all that she could see or
imagine. “Very like Maple Grove indeed!—She was quite struck by the
likeness!—That room was the very shape and size of the morning-room at
Maple Grove; her sister’s favourite room.”—Mr. Elton was appealed
to.—“Was not it astonishingly like?—She could really almost fancy
herself at Maple Grove.”
“And the staircase—You know, as I came in, I observed how very like the
staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really
could not help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very
delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial
to as Maple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there! (with a
little sigh of sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly. Every body
who sees it is struck by its beauty; but to me, it has been quite a
home. Whenever you are transplanted, like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will
understand how very delightful it is to meet with any thing at all like
what one has left behind. I always say this is quite one of the evils
of matrimony.”
Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient
for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself.
“So extremely like Maple Grove! And it is not merely the house—the
grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like.
The laurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand
very much in the same way—just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse of
a fine large tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in
mind! My brother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People
who have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing
in the same style.”
Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea that
people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for the
extensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth while to
attack an error so double-dyed, and therefore only said in reply,
“When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think
you have overrated Hartfield. Surry is full of beauties.”
“Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that. It is the garden of England, you
know. Surry is the garden of England.”
“Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction. Many
counties, I believe, are called the garden of England, as well as
Surry.”
“No, I fancy not,” replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile. “I
never heard any county but Surry called so.”
Emma was silenced.
“My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, or
summer at farthest,” continued Mrs. Elton; “and that will be our time
for exploring. While they are with us, we shall explore a great deal, I
dare say. They will have their barouche-landau, of course, which holds
four perfectly; and therefore, without saying any thing of _our_
carriage, we should be able to explore the different beauties extremely
well. They would hardly come in their chaise, I think, at that season
of the year. Indeed, when the time draws on, I shall decidedly
recommend their bringing the barouche-landau; it will be so very much
preferable. When people come into a beautiful country of this sort, you
know, Miss Woodhouse, one naturally wishes them to see as much as
possible; and Mr. Suckling is extremely fond of exploring. We explored
to King’s-Weston twice last summer, in that way, most delightfully,
just after their first having the barouche-landau. You have many
parties of that kind here, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse, every summer?”
“No; not immediately here. We are rather out of distance of the very
striking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of; and
we are a very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed to stay at
home than engage in schemes of pleasure.”
“Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Nobody can
be more devoted to home than I am. I was quite a proverb for it at
Maple Grove. Many a time has Selina said, when she has been going to
Bristol, ‘I really cannot get this girl to move from the house. I
absolutely must go in by myself, though I hate being stuck up in the
barouche-landau without a companion; but Augusta, I believe, with her
own good-will, would never stir beyond the park paling.’ Many a time
has she said so; and yet I am no advocate for entire seclusion. I
think, on the contrary, when people shut themselves up entirely from
society, it is a very bad thing; and that it is much more advisable to
mix in the world in a proper degree, without living in it either too
much or too little. I perfectly understand your situation, however,
Miss Woodhouse—(looking towards Mr. Woodhouse), Your father’s state of
health must be a great drawback. Why does not he try Bath?—Indeed he
should. Let me recommend Bath to you. I assure you I have no doubt of
its doing Mr. Woodhouse good.”
“My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving any
benefit; and Mr. Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown to you,
does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be useful now.”
“Ah! that’s a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, where the
waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath
life, I have seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place,
that it could not fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse’s spirits,
which, I understand, are sometimes much depressed. And as to its
recommendations to _you_, I fancy I need not take much pains to dwell
on them. The advantages of Bath to the young are pretty generally
understood. It would be a charming introduction for you, who have lived
so secluded a life; and I could immediately secure you some of the best
society in the place. A line from me would bring you a little host of
acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have
always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy to shew you any
attentions, and would be the very person for you to go into public
with.”
It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The idea of
her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an