Chapter V

by Jane Austen

　　The young people were pleased with each other fromthe first. On each side there was much to attract,and their acquaintance soon promised as early an intimacyas good manners would warrant. Miss Crawford'sbeauty did her no disservice with the Miss Bertrams.They were too handsome themselves to dislike any womanfor being so too, and were almost as much charmed as theirbrothers with her lively dark eye, clear brown complexion,and general prettiness. Had she been tall, full formed,and fair, it might have been more of a trial: but as it was,there could be no comparison; and she was most allowablya sweet, pretty girl, while they were the finest youngwomen in the country.Her brother was not handsome: no, when they first saw himhe was absolutely plain, black and plain; but still hewas the gentleman, with a pleasing address. The secondmeeting proved him not so very plain: he was plain,to be sure, but then he had so much countenance, and histeeth were so good, and he was so well made, that onesoon forgot he was plain; and after a third interview,after dining in company with him at the Parsonage,he was no longer allowed to be called so by anybody.He was, in fact, the most agreeable young man the sistershad ever known, and they were equally delighted with him.Miss Bertram's engagement made him in equity the propertyof Julia, of which Julia was fully aware; and before he hadbeen at Mansfield a week, she was quite ready to be fallenin love with.Maria's notions on the subject were more confusedand indistinct. She did not want to see or understand."There could be no harm in her liking an agreeable man--everybody knew her situation--Mr. Crawford must take careof himself." Mr. Crawford did not mean to be in any danger!the Miss Bertrams were worth pleasing, and were readyto be pleased; and he began with no object but of makingthem like him. He did not want them to die of love;but with sense and temper which ought to have made himjudge and feel better, he allowed himself great latitudeon such points."I like your Miss Bertrams exceedingly, sister," said he,as he returned from attending them to their carriageafter the said dinner visit; "they are very elegant,agreeable girls.""So they are indeed, and I am delighted to hear you say it.But you like Julia best.""Oh yes! I like Julia best.""But do you really? for Miss Bertram is in general thoughtthe handsomest.""So I should suppose. She has the advantage in every feature,and I prefer her countenance; but I like Julia best;Miss Bertram is certainly the handsomest, and I have foundher the most agreeable, but I shall always like Julia best,because you order me.""I shall not talk to you, Henry, but I know you _will_like her best at last.""Do not I tell you that I like her best _at_ _first_?""And besides, Miss Bertram is engaged. Remember that,my dear brother. Her choice is made.""Yes, and I like her the better for it. An engagedwoman is always more agreeable than a disengaged.She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over,and she feels that she may exert all her powers of pleasingwithout suspicion. All is safe with a lady engaged:no harm can be done.""Why, as to that, Mr. Rushworth is a very good sortof young man, and it is a great match for her.""But Miss Bertram does not care three straws for him;_that_ is your opinion of your intimate friend. _I_ donot subscribe to it. I am sure Miss Bertram is very muchattached to Mr. Rushworth. I could see it in her eyes,when he was mentioned. I think too well of Miss Bertramto suppose she would ever give her hand without her heart.""Mary, how shall we manage him?""We must leave him to himself, I believe. Talking doesno good. He will be taken in at last.""But I would not have him _taken_ _in_; I would not havehim duped; I would have it all fair and honourable.""Oh dear! let him stand his chance and be taken in.It will do just as well. Everybody is taken in at someperiod or other.""Not always in marriage, dear Mary.""In marriage especially. With all due respect to suchof the present company as chance to be married, my dearMrs. Grant, there is not one in a hundred of either sexwho is not taken in when they marry. Look where I will,I see that it _is_ so; and I feel that it _must_ be so,when I consider that it is, of all transactions, the onein which people expect most from others, and are leasthonest themselves.""Ah! You have been in a bad school for matrimony,in Hill Street.""My poor aunt had certainly little cause to lovethe state; but, however, speaking from my own observation,it is a manoeuvring business. I know so many whohave married in the full expectation and confidenceof some one particular advantage in the connexion,or accomplishment, or good quality in the person, who havefound themselves entirely deceived, and been obligedto put up with exactly the reverse. What is this but a take in?""My dear child, there must be a little imagination here.I beg your pardon, but I cannot quite believe you.Depend upon it, you see but half. You see the evil,but you do not see the consolation. There will belittle rubs and disappointments everywhere, and weare all apt to expect too much; but then, if one schemeof happiness fails, human nature turns to another;if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better:we find comfort somewhere--and those evil-minded observers,dearest Mary, who make much of a little, are more takenin and deceived than the parties themselves.""Well done, sister! I honour your _esprit_ _du_ _corps_.When I am a wife, I mean to be just as staunch myself;and I wish my friends in general would be so too. It wouldsave me many a heartache.""You are as bad as your brother, Mary; but we will cureyou both. Mansfield shall cure you both, and withoutany taking in. Stay with us, and we will cure you."The Crawfords, without wanting to be cured, were verywilling to stay. Mary was satisfied with the Parsonageas a present home, and Henry equally ready to lengthenhis visit. He had come, intending to spend only a fewdays with them; but Mansfield promised well, and therewas nothing to call him elsewhere. It delighted Mrs. Grantto keep them both with her, and Dr. Grant was exceedinglywell contented to have it so: a talking pretty youngwoman like Miss Crawford is always pleasant societyto an indolent, stay-at-home man; and Mr. Crawford'sbeing his guest was an excuse for drinking claret every day.The Miss Bertrams' admiration of Mr. Crawford was morerapturous than anything which Miss Crawford's habits madeher likely to feel. She acknowledged, however, that theMr. Bertrams were very fine young men, that two suchyoung men were not often seen together even in London,and that their manners, particularly those of the eldest,were very good. _He_ had been much in London,and had more liveliness and gallantry than Edmund,and must, therefore, be preferred; and, indeed, his beingthe eldest was another strong claim. She had felt an earlypresentiment that she _should_ like the eldest best.She knew it was her way.Tom Bertram must have been thought pleasant, indeed, at any rate;he was the sort of young man to be generally liked,his agreeableness was of the kind to be oftener foundagreeable than some endowments of a higher stamp, for hehad easy manners, excellent spirits, a large acquaintance,and a great deal to say; and the reversion of Mansfield Park,and a baronetcy, did no harm to all this. Miss Crawfordsoon felt that he and his situation might do. She lookedabout her with due consideration, and found almost everythingin his favour: a park, a real park, five miles round,a spacious modern-built house, so well placed and wellscreened as to deserve to be in any collection of engravingsof gentlemen's seats in the kingdom, and wanting only to becompletely new furnished--pleasant sisters, a quiet mother,and an agreeable man himself--with the advantage ofbeing tied up from much gaming at present by a promiseto his father, and of being Sir Thomas hereafter.It might do very well; she believed she should accept him;and she began accordingly to interest herself a littleabout the horse which he had to run at the B------- races.These races were to call him away not long after theiracquaintance began; and as it appeared that the familydid not, from his usual goings on, expect him backagain for many weeks, it would bring his passion to anearly proof. Much was said on his side to induce herto attend the races, and schemes were made for a largeparty to them, with all the eagerness of inclination,but it would only do to be talked of.And Fanny, what was _she_ doing and thinking all thiswhile? and what was _her_ opinion of the newcomers?Few young ladies of eighteen could be less called onto speak their opinion than Fanny. In a quiet way,very little attended to, she paid her tribute of admirationto Miss Crawford's beauty; but as she still continuedto think Mr. Crawford very plain, in spite of her twocousins having repeatedly proved the contrary, she nevermentioned _him_. The notice, which she excited herself,was to this effect. "I begin now to understand you all,except Miss Price," said Miss Crawford, as she waswalking with the Mr. Bertrams. "Pray, is she out,or is she not? I am puzzled. She dined at the Parsonage,with the rest of you, which seemed like being _out_;and yet she says so little, that I can hardly supposeshe _is_."Edmund, to whom this was chiefly addressed, replied, "I believeI know what you mean, but I will not undertake to answerthe question. My cousin is grown up. She has the ageand sense of a woman, but the outs and not outs are beyond me.""And yet, in general, nothing can be more easily ascertained.The distinction is so broad. Manners as well asappearance are, generally speaking, so totally different.Till now, I could not have supposed it possible to bemistaken as to a girl's being out or not. A girl notout has always the same sort of dress: a close bonnet,for instance; looks very demure, and never says a word.You may smile, but it is so, I assure you; and exceptthat it is sometimes carried a little too far, it isall very proper. Girls should be quiet and modest.The most objectionable part is, that the alterationof manners on being introduced into company is frequentlytoo sudden. They sometimes pass in such very littletime from reserve to quite the opposite--to confidence!_That_ is the faulty part of the present system.One does not like to see a girl of eighteen or nineteenso immediately up to every thing--and perhaps when onehas seen her hardly able to speak the year before.Mr. Bertram, I dare say _you_ have sometimes met withsuch changes.""I believe I have, but this is hardly fair; I see what youare at. You are quizzing me and Miss Anderson.""No, indeed. Miss Anderson! I do not know who or whatyou mean. I am quite in the dark. But I _will_ quiz youwith a great deal of pleasure, if you will tell me what about.""Ah! you carry it off very well, but I cannot be quiteso far imposed on. You must have had Miss Andersonin your eye, in describing an altered young lady.You paint too accurately for mistake. It was exactly so.The Andersons of Baker Street. We were speaking of themthe other day, you know. Edmund, you have heard me mentionCharles Anderson. The circumstance was precisely as thislady has represented it. When Anderson first introducedme to his family, about two years ago, his sister wasnot _out_, and I could not get her to speak to me.I sat there an hour one morning waiting for Anderson,with only her and a little girl or two in the room,the governess being sick or run away, and the motherin and out every moment with letters of business, and Icould hardly get a word or a look from the young lady--nothing like a civil answer--she screwed up her mouth,and turned from me with such an air! I did not seeher again for a twelvemonth. She was then _out_.I met her at Mrs. Holford's, and did not recollect her.She came up to me, claimed me as an acquaintance, stared meout of countenance; and talked and laughed till I did notknow which way to look. I felt that I must be the jestof the room at the time, and Miss Crawford, it is plain,has heard the story.""And a very pretty story it is, and with more truthin it, I dare say, than does credit to Miss Anderson.It is too common a fault. Mothers certainly have not yetgot quite the right way of managing their daughters.I do not know where the error lies. I do not pretend to setpeople right, but I do see that they are often wrong.""Those who are showing the world what female manners_should_ be," said Mr. Bertram gallantly, "are doinga great deal to set them right.""The error is plain enough," said the less courteous Edmund;"such girls are ill brought up. They are given wrong notionsfrom the beginning. They are always acting upon motivesof vanity, and there is no more real modesty in theirbehaviour _before_ they appear in public than afterwards.""I do not know," replied Miss Crawford hesitatingly."Yes, I cannot agree with you there. It is certainlythe modestest part of the business. It is much worse tohave girls not out give themselves the same airs and takethe same liberties as if they were, which I have seen done.That is worse than anything--quite disgusting!""Yes, _that_ is very inconvenient indeed," said Mr. Bertram."It leads one astray; one does not know what to do.The close bonnet and demure air you describe so well (andnothing was ever juster), tell one what is expected;but I got into a dreadful scrape last year from the wantof them. I went down to Ramsgate for a week with a friendlast September, just after my return from the West Indies.My friend Sneyd--you have heard me speak of Sneyd, Edmund--his father, and mother, and sisters, were there, all newto me. When we reached Albion Place they were out;we went after them, and found them on the pier: Mrs. andthe two Miss Sneyds, with others of their acquaintance.I made my bow in form; and as Mrs. Sneyd was surroundedby men, attached myself to one of her daughters,walked by her side all the way home, and made myselfas agreeable as I could; the young lady perfectly easyin her manners, and as ready to talk as to listen.I had not a suspicion that I could be doing anything wrong.They looked just the same: both well-dressed, with veilsand parasols like other girls; but I afterwards foundthat I had been giving all my attention to the youngest,who was not _out_, and had most excessively offendedthe eldest. Miss Augusta ought not to have been noticedfor the next six months; and Miss Sneyd, I believe, has neverforgiven me.""That was bad indeed. Poor Miss Sneyd. "Though I have noyounger sister, I feel for her. To be neglected beforeone's time must be very vexatious; but it was entirelythe mother's fault. Miss Augusta should have been withher governess. Such half-and-half doings never prosper.But now I must be satisfied about Miss Price.Does she go to balls? Does she dine out every where,as well as at my sister's?""No," replied Edmund; "I do not think she has ever beento a ball. My mother seldom goes into company herself,and dines nowhere but with Mrs. Grant, and Fanny stays athome with _her_.""Oh! then the point is clear. Miss Price is not out."