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.