Volume I: Chapter III

by Jane Austen

　　Mr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way. He liked very muchto have his friends come and see him; and from various united causes,from his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature,from his fortune, his house, and his daughter, he could command thevisits of his own little circle, in a great measure, as he liked.He had not much intercourse with any families beyond that circle;his horror of late hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfitfor any acquaintance but such as would visit him on his own terms.Fortunately for him, Highbury, including Randalls in the same parish,and Donwell Abbey in the parish adjoining, the seat of Mr. Knightley,comprehended many such. Not unfrequently, through Emma's persuasion,he had some of the chosen and the best to dine with him: but eveningparties were what he preferred; and, unless he fancied himself at anytime unequal to company, there was scarcely an evening in the weekin which Emma could not make up a card-table for him.

　　Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr. Knightley;and by Mr. Elton, a young man living alone without liking it,the privilege of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitudefor the elegancies and society of Mr. Woodhouse's drawing-room,and the smiles of his lovely daughter, was in no danger of beingthrown away.

　　After these came a second set; among the most come-at-ableof whom were Mrs. and Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard, three ladiesalmost always at the service of an invitation from Hartfield,and who were fetched and carried home so often, that Mr. Woodhousethought it no hardship for either James or the horses. Had ittaken place only once a year, it would have been a grievance.

　　Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was avery old lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille.She lived with her single daughter in a very small way, and wasconsidered with all the regard and respect which a harmless old lady,under such untoward circumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyeda most uncommon degree of popularity for a woman neither young,handsome, rich, nor married. Miss Bates stood in the very worstpredicament in the world for having much of the public favour;and she had no intellectual superiority to make atonement to herself,or frighten those who might hate her into outward respect.She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her youthhad passed without distinction, and her middle of life was devotedto the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a smallincome go as far as possible. And yet she was a happy woman,and a woman whom no one named without good-will. It was her ownuniversal good-will and contented temper which worked such wonders.She loved every body, was interested in every body's happiness,quicksighted to every body's merits; thought herself a most fortunatecreature, and surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother,and so many good neighbours and friends, and a home that wantedfor nothing. The simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature,her contented and grateful spirit, were a recommendation to every body,and a mine of felicity to herself. She was a great talker uponlittle matters, which exactly suited Mr. Woodhouse, full of trivialcommunications and harmless gossip.

　　Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a School--not of a seminary,or an establishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences ofrefined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality,upon new principles and new systems--and where young ladies forenormous pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity--buta real, honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonablequantity of accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price,and where girls might be sent to be out of the way, and scramblethemselves into a little education, without any danger of comingback prodigies. Mrs. Goddard's school was in high repute--andvery deservedly; for Highbury was reckoned a particularly healthyspot: she had an ample house and garden, gave the children plentyof wholesome food, let them run about a great deal in the summer,and in winter dressed their chilblains with her own hands.It was no wonder that a train of twenty young couple now walkedafter her to church. She was a plain, motherly kind of woman,who had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitledto the occasional holiday of a tea-visit; and having formerlyowed much to Mr. Woodhouse's kindness, felt his particular claimon her to leave her neat parlour, hung round with fancy-work,whenever she could, and win or lose a few sixpences by his fireside.

　　These were the ladies whom Emma found herself very frequentlyable to collect; and happy was she, for her father's sake,in the power; though, as far as she was herself concerned,it was no remedy for the absence of Mrs. Weston. She was delightedto see her father look comfortable, and very much pleased withherself for contriving things so well; but the quiet prosingsof three such women made her feel that every evening so spentwas indeed one of the long evenings she had fearfully anticipated.

　　As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a closeof the present day, a note was brought from Mrs. Goddard, requesting,in most respectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her;a most welcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen,whom Emma knew very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in,on account of her beauty. A very gracious invitation was returned,and the evening no longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion.

　　Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody. Somebody hadplaced her, several years back, at Mrs. Goddard's school,and somebody had lately raised her from the condition of scholarto that of parlour-boarder. This was all that was generally knownof her history. She had no visible friends but what had beenacquired at Highbury, and was now just returned from a long visitin the country to some young ladies who had been at school there with her.

　　She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sortwhich Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair,with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features,and a look of great sweetness, and, before the end of the evening,Emma was as much pleased with her manners as her person, and quitedetermined to continue the acquaintance.

　　She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith'sconversation, but she found her altogether very engaging--notinconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk--and yet so far from pushing,shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantlygrateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlesslyimpressed by the appearance of every thing in so superior a styleto what she had been used to, that she must have good sense,and deserve encouragement. Encouragement should be given.Those soft blue eyes, and all those natural graces, should not bewasted on the inferior society of Highbury and its connexions.The acquaintance she had already formed were unworthy of her.The friends from whom she had just parted, though very good sortof people, must be doing her harm. They were a family of the nameof Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a large farmof Mr. Knightley, and residing in the parish of Donwell--very creditably,she believed--she knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of them--but theymust be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the intimatesof a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and eleganceto be quite perfect. She would notice her; she would improve her;she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce herinto good society; she would form her opinions and her manners.It would be an interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking;highly becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers.

　　She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talkingand listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, thatthe evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table,which always closed such parties, and for which she had beenused to sit and watch the due time, was all set out and ready,and moved forwards to the fire, before she was aware. With analacrity beyond the common impulse of a spirit which yet was neverindifferent to the credit of doing every thing well and attentively,with the real good-will of a mind delighted with its own ideas,did she then do all the honours of the meal, and help and recommendthe minced chicken and scalloped oysters, with an urgency which sheknew would be acceptable to the early hours and civil scruples of their guests.

　　Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouses feelings were in sad warfare.He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashionof his youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesomemade him rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while hishospitality would have welcomed his visitors to every thing,his care for their health made him grieve that they would eat.

　　Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all thathe could, with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though hemight constrain himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearingthe nicer things, to say:

　　"Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs.An egg boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boilingan egg better than any body. I would not recommend an egg boiledby any body else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small,you see--one of our small eggs will not hurt you. Miss Bates,let Emma help you to a little bit of tart--a very little bit.Ours are all apple-tarts. You need not be afraid of unwholesomepreserves here. I do not advise the custard. Mrs. Goddard, what sayyou to half a glass of wine? A small half-glass, put into a tumblerof water? I do not think it could disagree with you."

　　Emma allowed her father to talk--but supplied her visitors ina much more satisfactory style, and on the present evening hadparticular pleasure in sending them away happy. The happinessof Miss Smith was quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhousewas so great a personage in Highbury, that the prospect of theintroduction had given as much panic as pleasure; but the humble,grateful little girl went off with highly gratified feelings,delighted with the affability with which Miss Woodhouse had treatedher all the evening, and actually shaken hands with her at last!