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September 22
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Sense and Sensibility

Promises and Precarity

Read the opening of Sense and Sensibility with context for inheritance and the Dashwood family’s changing circumstances. A free guide to the available opening material.

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Readings
• Vol. I, Ch. 1–3 from "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen
• Vol I, Ch. 5-6 from "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen
• Vol I, Ch 3-4 from "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen
• Vol I, Ch. 7-8 from "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen
• Vol I, Ch. 9-10 from "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen
• Vol I, Ch. 3 from "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen
• Chapter 13 from "What Matters in Jane Austen?" by John Mullan (optional)
• "Jane Austen" by Claire Tomalin (optional)
• Chapters 2 &18 from "What Matters in Jane Austen?" by John Mullan (optional)
• Vol I, Ch 3-4 from "The Annotated Sense and Sensibility" by David Shapard (optional)
• Chapter 15 from "Jane Austen at Home" by Lucy Worsley (optional)
• Chapter 8 from "The Time Traveler's Guide to Regency Britain" by Ian Mortimer (optional)
• Chapter 8 from "The Annotated Sense and Sensibility" by David Shapard (optional)
• "Sense and Sensibility: The Screenplay and Diaries" by Emma Thompson (optional)
• Vol I, Ch. 9-10 from "The Annotated Sense and Sensibility" by David Shapard (optional)
• "Mirror of Graces" by 19th Century Lady of Distinction (optional)
• "Jane Austen's England" by Roy and Lesley Adkins (optional)

Settled in Sussex

The Dashwood women are now dependent on John. Will he keep his promise?
These are the opening lines to Jane Austen's debut novel, Sense and Sensibility. As you read them, ask yourself: what is Austen trying to do here?
Jane Austen
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.
Many stories begin by announcing that something has changed: "Marley was dead: to begin with," "Mother died today," "Where's Papa going with that ax?"Stories can also start by anticipating a change. Harry Potter famously begins, "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much." We now expect something abnormal to happen to the "perfectly normal" Dursleys.Austen loves this style of opening. Look again at "the family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex." The very word "settled" warns us that the Dashwoods will soon be unsettled.Here's the situation. For years, Mr. Henry Dashwood, his wife, and their three daughters (Elinor, Marianne, and young Margaret) have lived at Norland, keeping Henry's rich, elderly uncle company. The uncle, whom Austen calls the "old Gentleman," has no children of his own, so he plans to bequeath the estate to Henry.In the following passage, the 'nephew and niece' refers to Henry and his wife, Mrs. Dashwood.
Jane Austen
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.
More than any of Austen's other novels, Sense and Sensibility dwells on the legal and financial details that made a woman's life precarious. One of these is primogeniture: the tradition of passing an entire estate to the eldest son. The point of primogeniture was to keep estates whole, instead of splitting them among younger sons and future husbands of daughters.From his first marriage, Henry has a grown son, Mr. John Dashwood, who is half-brother to the three girls. John, his wife Fanny, and their little boy Harry occasionally visit Norland, and on those visits the old uncle is charmed by little Harry. Here's Austen:
Jane Austen
The old Gentleman died: his will was read, and like almost every other will, gave as much disappointment as pleasure... 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.
In other words, the rich uncle secured Norland for his great-grandnephew. Notice the theme of precarity once again: a charming toddler has unsettled the future of Henry's wife and daughters.Henry isn't entirely cut out. He gets a "life interest" in Norland, which means he controls the estate and its income for as long as he lives. But he can't sell it or leave it to anyone. When Henry dies, the estate passes to John, and eventually to little Harry.So Henry's only way to provide for his wife and daughters is to save money from the estate's income while he's alive. But he dies within a year of the uncle. On his deathbed, Henry asks John to look after Mrs. Dashwood and the girls. John promises to do everything in his power to make them comfortable, but exactly what that means, he leaves unsaid. Back to Austen.
Jane Austen
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.

Fish and Game

The Dashwood women are now dependent on John. Will he keep his promise?
Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret Dashwood have lost their father. Their older half-brother, John, has inherited Norland, where they still live with their mother. Before dying, their father asked John to look after all four of them. John intends to give each sister a thousand pounds. His wife, Fanny, thinks this is far too much.
John Dashwood
It was my father's last request to me, that I should assist his widow and daughters... Something must be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home.
Fanny Dashwood
Well, then, let something be done for them; but that something need not be three thousand pounds. Consider that when the money is once parted with, it never can return. Your sisters will marry, and it will be gone for ever. If, indeed, it could be restored to our poor little boy—
John Dashwood
Perhaps, then, it would be better for all parties, if the sum were diminished one half.—Five hundred pounds would be a prodigious increase to their fortunes!
Fanny Dashwood
Oh! beyond anything great! What brother on earth would do half so much for his sisters, even if really his sisters! And as it is—only half blood!—But you have such a generous spirit!
John Dashwood
I would not wish to do any thing mean. One had rather, on such occasions, do too much than too little. No one, at least, can think I have not done enough for them: even themselves, they can hardly expect more.
Fanny Dashwood
There is no knowing what they may expect, but we are not to think of their expectations: the question is, what you can afford to do.
Fanny's question is absurd. £3,000 represents 2-3% of their fortune. Norland alone will bring them an extra £4,000 a year, which means that the £3,000 John originally intended to give his sisters amounts to nine months of the estate's income. John's been negotiated down to £500 each. Let's now return to John as he considers an annual payment instead: £100 a year to his stepmother for life.
John Dashwood
I do not know whether, upon the whole, it would not be more advisable to do something for their mother while she lives, rather than for them—something of the annuity kind I mean.—My sisters would feel the good effects of it as well as herself. A hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable.
Fanny Dashwood
To be sure, it is better than parting with fifteen hundred pounds at once. But, then, if Mrs. Dashwood should live fifteen years we shall be completely taken in.
John Dashwood
Fifteen years! my dear Fanny; her life cannot be worth half that purchase.
Fanny Dashwood
Certainly not; but if you observe, people always live for ever when there is an annuity to be paid them; and she is very stout and healthy, and hardly forty. An annuity is a very serious business; it comes over and over every year, and there is no getting rid of it. You are not aware of what you are doing.
John Dashwood
It is certainly an unpleasant thing to have those kind of yearly drains on one’s income. One’s fortune … is not one’s own. To be tied down to the regular payment of such a sum, on every rent day, is by no means desirable: it takes away one’s independence.
Fanny Dashwood
Undoubtedly; and after all you have no thanks for it. They think themselves secure, you do no more than what is expected, and it raises no gratitude at all. If I were you, whatever I did should be done at my own discretion entirely. I would not bind myself to allow them any thing yearly.
Fanny now argues that John has misunderstood his father's request. Perhaps helping the family never meant giving them money. Here Fanny continues her argument.
Fanny Dashwood
The assistance he thought of, I dare say, was only such as might be reasonably expected of you; for instance, such as looking out for a comfortable small house for them, helping them to move their things, and sending them presents of fish and game, and so forth, whenever they are in season. I’ll lay my life that he meant nothing farther; indeed, it would be very strange and unreasonable if he did.
Altogether, they will have five hundred a-year amongst them, and what on earth can four women want for more than that?—They will live so cheap! Their housekeeping will be nothing at all. They will have no carriage, no horses, and hardly any servants; they will keep no company, and can have no expenses of any kind! Only conceive how comfortable they will be! Five hundred a year!
I am sure I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it; and as to your giving them more, it is quite absurd to think of it. They will be much more able to give you something.
John Dashwood
Upon my word, I believe you are perfectly right. My father certainly could mean nothing more by his request to me than what you say. I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly fulfil my engagement by such acts of assistance and kindness to them as you have described. When my mother removes into another house my services shall be readily given to accommodate her as far as I can. Some little present of furniture too may be acceptable then.
Mr. John Dashwood began the conversation intending to give his sisters £3,000. He ends it satisfied that occasional gifts of fish and game will fulfill his promise. Fanny allows her husband to feel generous without having to be generous. Here is Austen's biographer, Claire Tomalin, describing what just happened:
Claire Tomalin
Austen makes Fanny Dashwood, in thirteen speeches, turn her husband through 180 degrees without his once being aware of what is happening; a perfectly engineered piece of manipulation, and a tour de force of dialogue.
The sisters and their mother are not penniless. Together, they have £10,000 of wealth, yielding £500 a year in interest. They are still considered gentlewomen, but they have fallen into genteel poverty. They will have enough to keep two maids and a serving man, but no carriage or horses. What's more they will soon have to leave the Norland estate, where they have become guests in their own home. Fanny has taken over as mistress of the house, and has invited her brother, Mr. Edward Ferrars, to visit. We will meet him next.

Driving a Barouche

Elinor and Edward develop affection amid family expectations.
Fanny is now in charge of Norland as mistress of the estate. Mrs. Dashwood is anxious to find a nearby home, but her reasonable daughter Elinor keeps reminding her of what she can and can't afford. Meanwhile, a young man by the name of Edward Ferrars, Fanny's own brother, has begun spending a lot of time at Norland, and he seems to be quite fond of Elinor.
Jane Austen
Some mothers might have encouraged the intimacy from motives of interest, for Edward Ferrars was the eldest son of a man who had died very rich; and some might have repressed it from motives of prudence, for, except a trifling sum, the whole of his fortune depended on the will of his mother.
But Mrs. Dashwood was alike uninfluenced by either consideration. It was enough for her that he appeared to be amiable, that he loved her daughter, and that Elinor returned the partiality.
Yes, Edward is the eldest son of a rich family, but his mother controls the purse strings. If he were to marry someone against her wishes, he would risk his entire inheritance. But these financial concerns don't faze Mrs. Dashwood, who, like her daughter Marianne, is a bit of a romantic. She likes Edward. His "address" and charisma are a bit underwhelming, but he appears kind and earnest in his affection.
Jane Austen
Edward Ferrars was not recommended to their good opinion by any peculiar graces of person or address. He was not handsome, and his manners required intimacy to make them pleasing. He was too diffident to do justice to himself; but when his natural shyness was overcome, his behaviour gave every indication of an open, affectionate heart.
His understanding was good, and his education had given it solid improvement. But he was neither fitted by abilities nor disposition to answer the wishes of his mother and sister, who longed to see him distinguished—as—they hardly knew what.
They wanted him to make a fine figure in the world in some manner or other. His mother wished to interest him in political concerns, to get him into parliament, or to see him connected with some of the great men of the day.
Mrs. John Dashwood wished it likewise; but in the mean while, till one of these superior blessings could be attained, it would have quieted her ambition to see him driving a barouche. But Edward had no turn for great men or barouches. All his wishes centered in domestic comfort and the quiet of private life. Fortunately he had a younger brother who was more promising.
Edward's mother and his sister Fanny have high expectations for him, although they're not entirely sure what that means. His mother imagines that he might even become a parliamentarian or, at a minimum, be connected to powerful men. Fanny would settle for seeing him drive a barouche, which was a fashionable urban carriage. This might say something about her obsession with displays of wealth. Even if Edward never became important, Fanny would at least like him to look important. Meanwhile, Edward doesn't seem to have any ambitions of his own. He's attracted to a quiet, private life.
David Shapard
The two paragraphs describing Edward represent a longer introduction than for any other character in the novel, one that exceeds the introduction for most romantic heroes in Jane Austen. It will soon be supplemented by lengthy speeches or reflections on Edward from Marianne and Elinor. A crucial reason for this is that the plot will consign Edward to a mostly offstage role, preventing the author from presenting his character very fully through his own speech or actions.
Jane Austen
Edward had been staying several weeks in the house before he engaged much of Mrs. Dashwood’s attention; for she was, at that time, in such affliction as rendered her careless of surrounding objects.
She saw only that he was quiet and unobtrusive, and she liked him for it. He did not disturb the wretchedness of her mind by ill-timed conversation. She was first called to observe and approve him farther, by a reflection which Elinor chanced one day to make on the difference between him and his sister. It was a contrast which recommended him most forcibly to her mother.
Notice how the same reserve that made Edward seem unimpressive now begins to look like tact. Remember that the Dashwood women are still in mourning. They've lost their father and their home. Edward's delicate interest is therefore quite considerate. His character becomes visible through what he refrains from doing or saying. Mrs. Dashwood even remarks that the reason she likes him so much is that he's the complete opposite of his sister Fanny.
Mrs. Dashwood
It is enough—to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. It implies everything amiable. I love him already.
Elinor Dashwood
I think you will like him—when you know more of him.
Mrs. Dashwood
Like him! I feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love.
Elinor Dashwood
You may esteem him.
Mrs. Dashwood
I have never yet known what it was to separate esteem and love.
Notice already how Austen portrays sense versus sensibility. In future chapters, this distinction is made between Elinor and her sister Marianne, but Mrs. Dashwood is very much like Marianne. Elinor is associated with sense, and yet her sensibility is more refined. She can distinguish between feelings of liking, esteem, and love, whereas the feeling-forward Mrs. Dashwood admits to feeling "no sentiment of approbation inferior to love."

To Wish Was to Hope

Edward has grown close to Elinor. Will affection survive Fanny's warning?
We meet most of Jane Austen's characters firsthand through their own words and actions. This is not the case for Edward Ferrars, who is introduced primarily through the impressions he makes on other characters. In the next passage, Elinor and Marianne debate whether Edward has "taste."The virtue of taste was widely discussed in the Regency era. Marianne claims that Edward has no taste for drawing, while Elinor insists that he does. It may not be the "rapturous delight" that Marianne associates with taste; instead, "he has an innate propriety and simplicity of taste, which in general direct him perfectly right." We're told that Marianne "smiles within herself" at Elinor's "blind partiality to Edward."Note that here again we get commentary on sense versus sensibility. First, Elinor would never consider blind partiality a virtue, but Marianne does. Further, Elinor criticizes the sentimentalist notion that intense emotions are indicative of taste.
Marianne Dashwood
Do not be offended, Elinor, if my praise of him is not in every thing equal to your sense of his merits. I have not had so many opportunities of estimating the minuter propensities of his mind, his inclinations and tastes, as you have; but I have the highest opinion in the world of his goodness and sense. I think him every thing that is worthy and amiable.
Elinor Dashwood
Of his sense and his goodness, no one can, I think, be in doubt, who has seen him often enough to engage him in unreserved conversation. The excellence of his understanding and his principles can be concealed only by that shyness which too often keeps him silent. You know enough of him to do justice to his solid worth.
I have seen a great deal of him, have studied his sentiments and heard his opinion on subjects of literature and taste; and, upon the whole, I venture to pronounce that his mind is well-informed, enjoyment of books exceedingly great, his imagination lively, his observation just and correct, and his taste delicate and pure. His abilities in every respect improve as much upon acquaintance as his manners and person.
At first sight, his address is certainly not striking; and his person can hardly be called handsome, till the expression of his eyes, which are uncommonly good, and the general sweetness of his countenance, is perceived. At present, I know him so well, that I think him really handsome; or at least, almost so. What say you, Marianne?
Marianne Dashwood
I shall very soon think him handsome, Elinor, if I do not now. When you tell me to love him as a brother, I shall no more see imperfection in his face, than I now do in his heart.
Jane Austen
Elinor started at this declaration, and was sorry for the warmth she had been betrayed into, in speaking of him. She felt that Edward stood very high in her opinion.
She knew that what Marianne and her mother conjectured one moment, they believed the next—that with them, to wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect.
Elinor Dashwood
I do not attempt to deny that I think very highly of him—that I greatly esteem, that I like him.
Marianne Dashwood
Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment.
Elinor Dashwood
Excuse me, and be assured that I meant no offence to you, by speaking, in so quiet a way, of my own feelings. Believe them to be stronger than I have declared; believe them, in short, to be such as his merit, and the suspicion—the hope of his affection for me may warrant, without imprudence or folly. But farther than this you must not believe.
Jane Austen
Marianne was astonished to find how much the imagination of her mother and herself had outstripped the truth.
Marianne Dashwood
And you really are not engaged to him! Yet it certainly soon will happen. But two advantages will proceed from this delay. I shall not lose you so soon, and Edward will have greater opportunity of improving that natural taste for your favourite pursuit which must be so indispensably necessary to your future felicity. Oh! if he should be so far stimulated by your genius as to learn to draw himself, how delightful it would be!
Elinor believes that Edward prefers her, but she knows that other realities are at play. As we said earlier, Edward is not an ambitious man. He has no career or independent income. His mother, Mrs. Ferrars, wants him to marry for fortune or rank, and Edward doesn't have the financial freedom to defy her.Elinor doesn't know all the details of Edward's situation, but she knows that marriage decisions are complex. She speaks to Marianne like a philosopher, committed to the truth. Meanwhile, Marianne is astonished to find “how much the imagination of her mother and herself had outstripped the truth,” but then quickly decides an engagement “certainly soon will happen.” Marianne's speech stands in sharp contrast to Elinor's. It's riddled with exclamation points: “Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted!”Elinor turns out to be right on both counts: Edward does prefer her, but he is constrained by family and money. We get this confirmation when Jane Austen shows us how Fanny reacts by insulting her mother-in-law, Mrs. Dashwood.
Jane Austen
[Elinor] was far from depending on that result of his preference of her, which her mother and sister still considered as certain. Nay, the longer they were together the more doubtful seemed the nature of his regard; and sometimes, for a few painful minutes, she believed it to be no more than friendship.
But, whatever might really be its limits, it was enough, when perceived by his sister, to make her uneasy, and at the same time, (which was still more common,) to make her uncivil. She took the first opportunity of affronting her mother-in-law on the occasion, talking to her so expressively of her brother’s great expectations, of Mrs. Ferrars’s resolution that both her sons should marry well, and of the danger attending any young woman who attempted to draw him in; that Mrs. Dashwood could neither pretend to be unconscious, nor endeavor to be calm.
By warning Mrs. Dashwood against any young woman who might try to "draw him in," Fanny accuses Elinor of a calculated attempt to secure Edward's fortune. She's reminding Mrs. Dashwood that their mother expects Edward to marry for advantage. As readers, we know Elinor likes Edward in earnest, but Fanny isn't entirely wrong to be suspicious. Women could neither pursue careers of their own nor propose marriage. It was common in this era for women to "draw in" affluent men as their only means to financial security. As John Mullan explains, a Regency woman's entire future revolved around a proposal.
John Mullan
You might say that the narrative interest of Austen’s novels stems entirely from a convention of marriage proposals: that a man must propose; a woman must wait to be proposed to. Comparing marriage to dancing in Northanger Abbey, Henry Tilney condenses the essential truth: ‘man had the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal.'Elinor wonders whether or not Edward Ferrars is courting her, but can only wait for him to say something.
Offended by Fanny's insult, Mrs. Dashwood is now desperate to leave Norland. She receives a timely letter from one of her relatives, Sir John Middleton, about Barton Cottage, available on "easy terms" (low rent) next to his own residence, Barton Park. Barton is in Devonshire, in the southwest corner of England, and very far from Norland in Sussex. Previously, Mrs. Dashwood wanted to find a home nearby, but now the long distance between Norland and Devonshire is appealing. For Elinor and her growing attachment to Edward, the move is disastrous. But Elinor is a character of sense, and this is a sensible decision. She therefore accepts the self-sacrifice and makes "no attempt to dissuade her mother" from accepting Sir John's offer.

Poor and Small

Fanny has driven the Dashwoods from Norland. Can Barton become home?
Mrs. Dashwood announced that she and her daughters were leaving Norland for a cottage four miles north of Exeter in Devonshire. Edward was startled by the news, especially because Devonshire was so far from Sussex. Mrs. Dashwood invited him to visit and made her invitation especially warm in front of his disapproving sister Fanny.Meanwhile, her stepson, John Dashwood, claimed to be exceedingly sorry that the distance would prevent him from helping them move. Conveniently, this allowed him to consider himself completely discharged of his dying promise to his father. The furniture had to be shipped by sea along the southern coast at the Dashwoods' own expense.This sudden fall into genteel poverty continues to take Mrs. Dashwood by surprise. Elinor has to convince her mother to sell their carriage. Owning a carriage was a major mark of wealth, but the cost of keeping one in the 1810s was around £1,000 per year—twice as much as their entire new annual income.
Jane Austen faced a similar household reduction in 1801 when her father retired and the family moved from Hampshire to Bath. Here, Austen's biographer, Lucy Worsley, describes the possessions that had to be auctioned off.
Lucy Worsley
[Everything] was now sold, including all that new furniture, the sisters’ beds, and even Jane’s old friends, the family’s books. An advert for the auction placed in the 'Reading Mercury' reveals that Jane had to leave behind not only her piano but also an extensive collection of music ‘by the most celebrated composers’.
The Dashwoods entered Barton Valley by a winding road through woods and pasture, and their spirits immediately lifted.
Jane Austen
It was a pleasant fertile spot, well wooded, and rich in pasture. After winding along it for more than a mile, they reached their own house. A small green court was the whole of its demesne in front; and a neat wicket gate admitted them into it.
As a house, Barton Cottage, though small, was comfortable and compact; but as a cottage it was defective, for the building was regular, the roof was tiled, the window shutters were not painted green, nor were the walls covered with honeysuckles. A narrow passage led directly through the house into the garden behind.
In comparison of Norland, it was poor and small indeed!—but the tears which recollection called forth as they entered the house were soon dried away. They were cheered by the joy of the servants on their arrival, and each for the sake of the others resolved to appear happy.
Mrs. Dashwood
As for the house itself, to be sure, it is too small for our family, but we will make ourselves tolerably comfortable for the present, as it is too late in the year for improvements. Perhaps in the spring, if I have plenty of money, as I dare say I shall, we may think about building.
These parlors are both too small for such parties of our friends as I hope to see often collected here; and I have some thoughts of throwing the passage into one of them with perhaps a part of the other, and so leave the remainder of that other for an entrance; this, with a new drawing room which may be easily added, and a bed-chamber and garret above, will make it a very snug little cottage.
I could wish the stairs were handsome. But one must not expect every thing; though I suppose it would be no difficult matter to widen them. I shall see how much I am before-hand with the world in the spring, and we will plan our improvements accordingly.
Jane Austen
In the mean time, till all these alterations could be made from the savings of an income of five hundred a-year by a woman who never saved in her life, they were wise enough to be contented with the house as it was; and each of them was busy in arranging their particular concerns, and endeavoring, by placing around them books and other possessions, to form themselves a home.
One reason Mrs. Dashwood immediately begins brainstorming home improvements is that a home's layout dictated the society you could keep. Two sitting rooms were considered the minimum for a decent social life: one to receive formal company, and the other for day-to-day family life. Historian Ian Mortimer describes how this division worked in this era, where a front parlour was kept as a showpiece while household activity continued elsewhere.
Ian Mortimer
It all looks satisfyingly solid and reassuring. But notice that there are no paintings or prints on the walls. There are no musical instruments. If it strikes you as a serious space, well, it is. In a house like this, the front parlour is often a showpiece: unused except for when visitors come to dinner, and by the family on Sundays. The real buzz of life goes on elsewhere.
Austen makes sure we see how impractical Mrs. Dashwood’s plans really are. She's treating their £500 annual income like a construction fund, when almost all of it will be needed for basic living expenses. Here, David Shapard compares Mrs. Dashwood's budget to Jane Austen’s own experience living in a cottage at Chawton.
David Shapard
Five hundred a year would be a pitiful amount for making such extensive alterations, especially since much of it would have to go toward daily living expenses. Even very wealthy landowners could run into serious debt from the cost of improvements to their houses, though their construction would be on a much grander scale.
Jane Austen would have an excellent sense of how much Mrs. Dashwood could afford, for in the last part of her life, the time when this and other novels were published, she was in a very similar situation.
She and her mother and sister inhabited a house of comparable size, also called a cottage, and enjoyed around the same level of wealth, having a little less than five hundred a year in income but also not having to pay rent on the house (since it was owned by Jane Austen’s brother).
The next morning, after the Dashwood women settled in, their cousin and landlord, Sir John Middleton, came to welcome them to their new home. His wife, Lady Middleton, visited the following day.Whereas Elinor and Marianne embody sense and sensibility, Sir John and Lady Middleton introduce another dynamic entirely: good nature versus good breeding. Sir John is full of warmth, generosity, and unpretentious good nature, but lacks civility. Lady Middleton has all the civility of good breeding, but none of the warmth. Austen continues to challenge the idea that breeding alone makes someone truly genteel.
Jane Austen
Sir John’s countenance was thoroughly good-humoured; and his manners were as friendly as the style of his letter. He pressed them so cordially to dine at Barton Park every day, that, though his entreaties were carried to a point of perseverance beyond civility, they could not give offence.
His kindness was not confined to words; for within an hour after he left them, a large basket full of garden stuff and fruit arrived from the park, which was followed before the end of the day by a present of game.
Lady Middleton was not more than six or seven and twenty; her face was handsome, her figure tall and striking, and her address graceful. Her manners had all the elegance which her husband’s wanted.
But they would have been improved by some share of his frankness and warmth; and her visit was long enough to detract something from their first admiration, by showing that, though perfectly well-bred, she was reserved, cold, and had nothing to say for herself beyond the most common-place inquiry or remark.

A Miracle at Forty

The Dashwoods just agreed to dine at Barton Park. Is thirty-five too old for love?
The next day, the Dashwoods dined at Barton Park. Sir John Middleton apologized to the company that he couldn't find any smart young gentlemen to join them, except for his unmarried 35-year-old friend, Colonel Brandon. We're told that the colonel was silent and grave, and though his appearance was "not unpleasing," in the eyes of Marianne and Margaret he was "an absolute old bachelor, for he was on the wrong side of five and thirty."Also in attendance was Lady Middleton's mother, Mrs. Jennings, who was much more like her boisterous son-in-law Sir John, than she was like her pretentious daughter. She teased Elinor and Marianne all evening about the broken hearts they may have left behind in Sussex.After dinner, Marianne played the pianoforte and sang. She was able to play all the music Lady Middleton had on hand without even practicing in advance. Lady Middleton, on the other hand, had locked up her instruments and given up playing upon marriage—a common habit in an era when music was practiced primarily to attract a husband. While Sir John talked loudly over the music and Lady Middleton offered polite platitudes, only one guest truly listened.
Jane Austen
Colonel Brandon alone, of all the party, heard her without being in raptures. He paid her only the compliment of attention; and she felt a respect for him on the occasion, which the others had reasonably forfeited by their shameless want of taste.
His pleasure in music, though it amounted not to that ecstatic delight which alone could sympathize with her own, was estimable when contrasted against the horrible insensibility of the others; and she was reasonable enough to allow that a man of five and thirty might well have outlived all acuteness of feeling and every exquisite power of enjoyment.
Seeing how attentively he listened, Mrs. Jennings immediately declared Colonel Brandon in love. She teased Brandon at the park and then teased Marianne at the cottage. Marianne complained to her mother that Mrs. Jennings was cruel to mock Brandon. It seemed inconceivable to Marianne that Mrs. Jennings might be serious about the prospect of Marianne and Colonel Brandon together, due to his advanced age, but Mrs. Jennings was likely earnest in her matchmaking. She's a wealthy widow who has already married off her own daughters, and now she's made a full-time hobby out of matchmaking for every single person she meets.
Jane Austen
Mrs. Dashwood, who could not think a man five years younger than herself, so exceedingly ancient as he appeared to the youthful fancy of her daughter, ventured to clear Mrs. Jennings from the probability of wishing to throw ridicule on his age.
Marianne Dashwood
But at least, Mama, you cannot deny the absurdity of the accusation, though you may not think it intentionally ill-natured. Colonel Brandon is certainly younger than Mrs. Jennings, but he is old enough to be my father; and if he were ever animated enough to be in love, must have long outlived every sensation of the kind. It is too ridiculous! When is a man to be safe from such wit, if age and infirmity will not protect him?
Elinor Dashwood
Infirmity! Do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I can easily suppose that his age may appear much greater to you than to my mother; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the use of his limbs!
Marianne Dashwood
Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism? and is not that the commonest infirmity of declining life?
Mrs. Dashwood
My dearest child, at this rate you must be in continual terror of my decay; and it must seem to you a miracle that my life has been extended to the advanced age of forty.
Marianne Dashwood
Mama, you are not doing me justice. I know very well that Colonel Brandon is not old enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of losing him in the course of nature. He may live twenty years longer. But thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony.
Elinor Dashwood
Perhaps thirty-five and seventeen had better not have any thing to do with matrimony together. But if there should by any chance happen to be a woman who is single at seven and twenty, I should not think Colonel Brandon’s being thirty-five any objection to his marrying her.
Marianne Dashwood
A woman of seven and twenty can never hope to feel or inspire affection again, and if her home be uncomfortable, or her fortune small, I can suppose that she might bring herself to submit to the offices of a nurse, for the sake of the provision and security of a wife.
Elinor Dashwood
I must object to your dooming Colonel Brandon and his wife to the constant confinement of a sick chamber, merely because he chanced to complain yesterday (a very cold damp day) of a slight rheumatic feel in one of his shoulders.
Marianne Dashwood
But he talked of flannel waistcoats, and with me a flannel waistcoat is invariably connected with aches, cramps, rheumatisms, and every species of ailment that can afflict the old and the feeble.
In Marianne's view, a 27-year-old woman and a 35-year-old man are far too old for romantic love. In reality, a healthy Regency gentleman or lady could expect to live into their early 60s. Still, a woman of 27 was widely considered past her prime for receiving marriage proposals. Jane Austen is having some fun with this dialogue: around the age of 27, Austen herself received a proposal from Harris Bigg-Wither, heir to substantial estates. She accepted that evening, but withdrew her acceptance the next morning, well aware that this proposal could be her last chance at financial independence. Here is how Jane's niece, Caroline Austen, later recounted the event.
Caroline Austen
I conjecture that the advantages he could offer, and her gratitude for his love, and her long friendship with his family, induced my aunt to decide that she would marry him when he should ask her, but that having accepted him she found she was miserable.
To be sure, she should not have said 'Yes' overnight; but I have always respected her for her courage in cancelling that 'Yes' the next morning; all worldly advantages would have been to her, and she was of an age to know this quite well (she was nearly twenty-seven).
My aunts had very small fortunes; and on their father's death, they and their mother would be, they were aware, but poorly off. I believe most young women so circumstanced would have gone on trusting to love after marriage.
Back at the cottage, after Elinor left the room, Marianne told her mother that she suspected Edward Ferrars might be ill. After all, it has been almost a fortnight (14 days) since they arrived in Devonshire, and he still has not visited.She found their romance completely bewildering, calling their Norland farewell cold and languid. Unlike Marianne, Elinor had never wept when leaving Norland, nor did she seem dejected at Barton. Through the lens of sensibility, Elinor's quiet restraint was impossible to understand. But in the next chapter, we get to see a romantic encounter as Marianne thinks it ought to look.

Walked Out of a Book

Edward is still absent. Will Marianne's storybook rescuer prove real?
One of the delights of Barton Cottage is that it's surrounded by all these beautiful walks, which is a great boon since they don't have a carriage. Sir John has generously offered his, but Mrs. Dashwood is too proud to borrow it. After about two days of being locked inside by the rain, Marianne and Margaret, the youngest sister, decide to go out and explore on foot. Clouds loom overhead, but the sisters are confident in their judgment (or "penetration") of the weather.
One of the delights of Barton Cottage is that it's surrounded by all these beautiful walks, which is a great boon since they don't have a carriage. Sir John has generously offered his, but Mrs. Dashwood is too proud to borrow it. After about two days of being locked inside by the rain, Marianne and Margaret, the youngest sister, decide to go out and explore on foot. Clouds loom overhead, but the sisters are confident in their judgment (or "penetration") of the weather.
One of the delights of Barton Cottage is that it's surrounded by all these beautiful walks, which is a great boon since they don't have a carriage. Sir John has generously offered his, but Mrs. Dashwood is too proud to borrow it. After about two days of being locked inside by the rain, Marianne and Margaret, the youngest sister, decide to go out and explore on foot. Clouds loom overhead, but the sisters are confident in their judgment (or "penetration") of the weather.
Jane Austen
They gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their own penetration at every glimpse of blue sky; and when they caught in their faces the animating gales of a high south-westerly wind, they pitied the fears which had prevented their mother and Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations.
Marianne Dashwood
Is there a felicity in the world, superior to this?—Margaret, we will walk here at least two hours.
Jane Austen
Margaret agreed, and they pursued their way against the wind, resisting it with laughing delight for about twenty minutes longer, when suddenly the clouds united over their heads, and a driving rain set full in their face. Chagrined and surprised, they were obliged, though unwillingly, to turn back, for no shelter was nearer than their own house.
One consolation however remained for them, to which the exigence of the moment gave more than usual propriety,—it was that of running with all possible speed down the steep side of the hill which led immediately to their garden gate.They set off. Marianne had at first the advantage, but a false step brought her suddenly to the ground; and Margaret, unable to stop herself to assist her, was involuntarily hurried along, and reached the bottom in safety.
A gentleman carrying a gun, with two pointers playing round him, was passing up the hill and within a few yards of Marianne, when her accident happened. He put down his gun and ran to her assistance. She had raised herself from the ground, but her foot had been twisted in her fall, and she was scarcely able to stand.
The gentleman offered his services; and perceiving that her modesty declined what her situation rendered necessary, took her up in his arms without farther delay, and carried her down the hill. Then passing through the garden, the gate of which had been left open by Margaret, he bore her directly into the house, whither Margaret was just arrived, and quitted not his hold till he had seated her in a chair in the parlour.
Elinor and her mother rose up in amazement at their entrance, and while the eyes of both were fixed on him with an evident wonder and a secret admiration which equally sprung from his appearance, he apologized for his intrusion by relating its cause, in a manner so frank and so graceful that his person, which was uncommonly handsome, received additional charms from his voice and expression.
His name was Willoughby, and his present home was at Allenham, from whence he hoped she would allow him the honour of calling tomorrow to enquire after Miss Dashwood. The honour was readily granted, and he then departed, to make himself still more interesting, in the midst of a heavy rain.
His manly beauty and more than common gracefulness were instantly the theme of general admiration, and the laugh which his gallantry raised against Marianne received particular spirit from his exterior attractions. Marianne herself had seen less of his person than the rest, for the confusion which crimsoned over her face, on his lifting her up, had robbed her of the power of regarding him after their entering the house.
But she had seen enough of him to join in all the admiration of the others, and with an energy which always adorned her praise. His person and air were equal to what her fancy had ever drawn for the hero of a favourite story; and in his carrying her into the house with so little previous formality, there was a rapidity of thought which particularly recommended the action to her. Every circumstance belonging to him was interesting.
His name was good, his residence was in their favourite village, and she soon found out that of all manly dresses a shooting-jacket was the most becoming. Her imagination was busy, her reflections were pleasant, and the pain of a sprained ankle was disregarded.
Willoughby's rescue certainly crosses a social boundary—it would not have been considered appropriate for a man to carry a young woman—but Marianne's twisted ankle is just the justification they need.Here is an excerpt from an anonymous conduct book first published in 1811 called "The Mirror of the Graces." It advised women on how to dress, cultivate accomplishments, behave, and preserve health and beauty—along with strict rules about touching the opposite sex. It warns of the "coxcomb," a vain, conceited man who assumes an intimacy he has not earned.
Mirror Of Graces
The present familiarity between the sexes is both shocking to delicacy, and to the interests of women. Woman is now treated by the generality of men with a freedom that levels her with the commonest and most vulgar objects of their amusements. She is addressed as unceremoniously, treated as cavalierly, and left as abruptly, as the veriest puppet they could pick up at a Bartholomew Fair.
We no longer see the respectful bow, the look of polite attention, when a gentleman approaches a lady. He runs up to her; he seizes her by the hand, shakes it roughly, asks a few questions, and, to show that he has no interest in her answers, flies off again before she can make a reply.
To cure our coxcombs of this conceited impertinence, I would strongly exhort my young and lovely readers. When any man, who is not privileged by the right of friendship or of kindred, to address her with an air of affection, attempts to take her hand, let her withdraw it immediately, with an air so declarative of displeasure, that he shall not presume to repeat the offence.
This meet-cute is plausible. Marianne walks, and Willoughby hunts. It's also idealistic. This is exactly the type of encounter that Marianne has read about in her books. Emma Thompson adapted this rescue scene for the 1995 film, with Kate Winslet playing Marianne and Greg Wise playing Willoughby. Here is Thompson writing in her journal about that specific scene. She borrows a phrase from horsemanship: allowing desire “its head” means giving the impulse freedom instead of reining it in.
Emma Thompson
The image of the man carrying the woman is horribly effective. Male strength - the desire to be cradled again? Had sage discussion with John Jordan (focus puller, very gentle) over the barrel of the lens about allowing all those politically incorrect desires their head. I'd love someone to pick me up and carry me off. Frightening.
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