Sense and Sensibility

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

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 immoveable 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 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.