Chapter XI

by Jane Austen

　　The day at Sotherton, with all its imperfections,afforded the Miss Bertrams much more agreeable feelingsthan were derived from the letters from Antigua,which soon afterwards reached Mansfield. It was muchpleasanter to think of Henry Crawford than of their father;and to think of their father in England again withina certain period, which these letters obliged them to do,was a most unwelcome exercise.November was the black month fixed for his return.Sir Thomas wrote of it with as much decision as experienceand anxiety could authorise. His business was so nearlyconcluded as to justify him in proposing to take hispassage in the September packet, and he consequentlylooked forward with the hope of being with his belovedfamily again early in November.Maria was more to be pitied than Julia; for to her thefather brought a husband, and the return of the friend mostsolicitous for her happiness would unite her to the lover,on whom she had chosen that happiness should depend.It was a gloomy prospect, and all she could do was tothrow a mist over it, and hope when the mist clearedaway she should see something else. It would hardlybe _early_ in November, there were generally delays,a bad passage or _something_; that favouring _something_which everybody who shuts their eyes while they look,or their understandings while they reason, feels thecomfort of. It would probably be the middle of Novemberat least; the middle of November was three months off.Three months comprised thirteen weeks. Much might happenin thirteen weeks.Sir Thomas would have been deeply mortified by a suspicionof half that his daughters felt on the subject of his return,and would hardly have found consolation in a knowledge of theinterest it excited in the breast of another young lady.Miss Crawford, on walking up with her brother to spendthe evening at Mansfield Park, heard the good news;and though seeming to have no concern in the affairbeyond politeness, and to have vented all her feelingsin a quiet congratulation, heard it with an attentionnot so easily satisfied. Mrs. Norris gave the particularsof the letters, and the subject was dropt; but after tea,as Miss Crawford was standing at an open window withEdmund and Fanny looking out on a twilight scene,while the Miss Bertrams, Mr. Rushworth, and Henry Crawfordwere all busy with candles at the pianoforte, she suddenlyrevived it by turning round towards the group, and saying,"How happy Mr. Rushworth looks! He is thinking of November."Edmund looked round at Mr. Rushworth too, but had nothingto say."Your father's return will be a very interesting event.""It will, indeed, after such an absence; an absencenot only long, but including so many dangers.""It will be the forerunner also of other interesting events:your sister's marriage, and your taking orders.""Yes.""Don't be affronted," said she, laughing, "but it doesput me in mind of some of the old heathen heroes, who,after performing great exploits in a foreign land,offered sacrifices to the gods on their safe return.""There is no sacrifice in the case," replied Edmund,with a serious smile, and glancing at the pianoforte again;"it is entirely her own doing.""Oh yes I know it is. I was merely joking. She hasdone no more than what every young woman would do;and I have no doubt of her being extremely happy.My other sacrifice, of course, you do not understand.""My taking orders, I assure you, is quite as voluntaryas Maria's marrying.""It is fortunate that your inclination and your father'sconvenience should accord so well. There is a very goodliving kept for you, I understand, hereabouts.""Which you suppose has biassed me?""But _that_ I am sure it has not," cried Fanny."Thank you for your good word, Fanny, but it is more thanI would affirm myself. On the contrary, the knowingthat there was such a provision for me probably didbias me. Nor can I think it wrong that it should.There was no natural disinclination to be overcome,and I see no reason why a man should make a worse clergymanfor knowing that he will have a competence early in life.I was in safe hands. I hope I should not have beeninfluenced myself in a wrong way, and I am sure my fatherwas too conscientious to have allowed it. I have no doubtthat I was biased, but I think it was blamelessly.""It is the same sort of thing," said Fanny, after ashort pause, "as for the son of an admiral to go intothe navy, or the son of a general to be in the army,and nobody sees anything wrong in that. Nobody wondersthat they should prefer the line where their friends canserve them best, or suspects them to be less in earnestin it than they appear.""No, my dear Miss Price, and for reasons good. The profession,either navy or army, is its own justification. It haseverything in its favour: heroism, danger, bustle, fashion.Soldiers and sailors are always acceptable in society.Nobody can wonder that men are soldiers and sailors.""But the motives of a man who takes orders with the certaintyof preferment may be fairly suspected, you think?"said Edmund. "To be justified in your eyes, he mustdo it in the most complete uncertainty of any provision.""What! take orders without a living! No; that ismadness indeed; absolute madness.""Shall I ask you how the church is to be filled, if a manis neither to take orders with a living nor without?No; for you certainly would not know what to say.But I must beg some advantage to the clergyman fromyour own argument. As he cannot be influenced by thosefeelings which you rank highly as temptation and rewardto the soldier and sailor in their choice of a profession,as heroism, and noise, and fashion, are all against him,he ought to be less liable to the suspicion of wantingsincerity or good intentions in the choice of his.""Oh! no doubt he is very sincere in preferring an incomeready made, to the trouble of working for one; and hasthe best intentions of doing nothing all the rest of hisdays but eat, drink, and grow fat. It is indolence,Mr. Bertram, indeed. Indolence and love of ease; a wantof all laudable ambition, of taste for good company,or of inclination to take the trouble of being agreeable,which make men clergymen. A clergyman has nothingto do but be slovenly and selfish--read the newspaper,watch the weather, and quarrel with his wife. His curatedoes all the work, and the business of his own life isto dine.""There are such clergymen, no doubt, but I think theyare not so common as to justify Miss Crawford in esteemingit their general character. I suspect that in thiscomprehensive and (may I say) commonplace censure, you arenot judging from yourself, but from prejudiced persons,whose opinions you have been in the habit of hearing.It is impossible that your own observation can have givenyou much knowledge of the clergy. You can have beenpersonally acquainted with very few of a set of men youcondemn so conclusively. You are speaking what you havebeen told at your uncle's table.""I speak what appears to me the general opinion;and where an opinion is general, it is usually correct.Though _I_ have not seen much of the domestic livesof clergymen, it is seen by too many to leave any deficiencyof information.""Where any one body of educated men, of whatever denomination,are condemned indiscriminately, there must be a deficiencyof information, or (smiling) of something else.Your uncle, and his brother admirals, perhaps knew littleof clergymen beyond the chaplains whom, good or bad,they were always wishing away.""Poor William! He has met with great kindness fromthe chaplain of the Antwerp," was a tender apostropheof Fanny's, very much to the purpose of her own feelingsif not of the conversation."I have been so little addicted to take my opinions frommy uncle," said Miss Crawford, "that I can hardly suppose--and since you push me so hard, I must observe, that I amnot entirely without the means of seeing what clergymen are,being at this present time the guest of my own brother,Dr. Grant. And though Dr. Grant is most kind and obligingto me, and though he is really a gentleman, and, I dare say,a good scholar and clever, and often preaches good sermons,and is very respectable, _I_ see him to be an indolent,selfish _bon_ _vivant_, who must have his palate consultedin everything; who will not stir a finger for the convenienceof any one; and who, moreover, if the cook makes a blunder,is out of humour with his excellent wife. To own the truth,Henry and I were partly driven out this very eveningby a disappointment about a green goose, which he couldnot get the better of. My poor sister was forced to stayand bear it.""I do not wonder at your disapprobation, upon my word.It is a great defect of temper, made worse by a very faultyhabit of self-indulgence; and to see your sister sufferingfrom it must be exceedingly painful to such feelingsas yours. Fanny, it goes against us. We cannot attemptto defend Dr. Grant.""No," replied Fanny, "but we need not give up his professionfor all that; because, whatever profession Dr. Granthad chosen, he would have taken a--not a good temper into it;and as he must, either in the navy or army, have had agreat many more people under his command than he has now,I think more would have been made unhappy by him as asailor or soldier than as a clergyman. Besides, I cannotbut suppose that whatever there may be to wish otherwisein Dr. Grant would have been in a greater danger ofbecoming worse in a more active and worldly profession,where he would have had less time and obligation--where he might have escaped that knowledge of himself,the _frequency_, at least, of that knowledge which itis impossible he should escape as he is now. A man--a sensible man like Dr. Grant, cannot be in the habitof teaching others their duty every week, cannot goto church twice every Sunday, and preach such very goodsermons in so good a manner as he does, without beingthe better for it himself. It must make him think;and I have no doubt that he oftener endeavours to restrainhimself than he would if he had been anything but a clergyman.""We cannot prove to the contrary, to be sure; but I wishyou a better fate, Miss Price, than to be the wife of a manwhose amiableness depends upon his own sermons; for thoughhe may preach himself into a good-humour every Sunday,it will be bad enough to have him quarrelling about greengeese from Monday morning till Saturday night.""I think the man who could often quarrel with Fanny,"said Edmund affectionately, "must be beyond the reachof any sermons."Fanny turned farther into the window; and MissCrawford had only time to say, in a pleasant manner,"I fancy Miss Price has been more used to deservepraise than to hear it"; when, being earnestly invitedby the Miss Bertrams to join in a glee, she tripped offto the instrument, leaving Edmund looking after herin an ecstasy of admiration of all her many virtues,from her obliging manners down to her light and graceful tread."There goes good-humour, I am sure," said he presently."There goes a temper which would never give pain!How well she walks! and how readily she falls in with theinclination of others! joining them the moment she is asked.What a pity," he added, after an instant's reflection,"that she should have been in such hands!"Fanny agreed to it, and had the pleasure of seeing him continueat the window with her, in spite of the expected glee;and of having his eyes soon turned, like hers, towards thescene without, where all that was solemn, and soothing,and lovely, appeared in the brilliancy of an unclouded night,and the contrast of the deep shade of the woods. Fanny spokeher feelings. "Here's harmony!" said she; "here's repose!Here's what may leave all painting and all music behind,and what poetry only can attempt to describe! Here's whatmay tranquillise every care, and lift the heart to rapture!When I look out on such a night as this, I feel as if therecould be neither wickedness nor sorrow in the world;and there certainly would be less of both if the sublimityof Nature were more attended to, and people were carriedmore out of themselves by contemplating such a scene.""I like to hear your enthusiasm, Fanny. It is a lovely night,and they are much to be pitied who have not been taughtto feel, in some degree, as you do; who have not,at least, been given a taste for Nature in early life.They lose a great deal.""_You_ taught me to think and feel on the subject, cousin.""I had a very apt scholar. There's Arcturus lookingvery bright.""Yes, and the Bear. I wish I could see Cassiopeia.""We must go out on the lawn for that. Should you be afraid?""Not in the least. It is a great while since we havehad any star-gazing."Yes; I do not know how it has happened." The glee began."We will stay till this is finished, Fanny," said he,turning his back on the window; and as it advanced,she had the mortification of seeing him advance too,moving forward by gentle degrees towards the instrument,and when it ceased, he was close by the singers, among the mosturgent in requesting to hear the glee again.Fanny sighed alone at the window till scolded awayby Mrs. Norris's threats of catching cold.