by Jane Austen
The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving an account of a little alarm she had been under the evening before, from the infant’s appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish, but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of sending for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston had been almost as uneasy as herself. In ten minutes, however, the child had been perfectly well again. This was her history; and particularly interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her very much for thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done it. “She should always send for Perry, if the child appeared in the slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment. She could not be too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps, that he had not come last night; for, though the child seemed well now, very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry had seen it.”
Frank Churchill caught the name.
“Perry!” said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss Fairfax’s eye. “My friend Mr. Perry! What are they saying about Mr. Perry? Has he been here this morning? And how does he travel now? Has he set up his carriage?”
Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the laugh, it was evident from Jane’s countenance that she too was really hearing him, though trying to seem deaf.
“Such an extraordinary dream of mine!” he cried. “I can never think of it without laughing. She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do not you see that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter, which sent me the report, is passing under her eye; that the whole blunder is spread before her; that she can attend to nothing else, though pretending to listen to the others?”
Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yet steady voice,—
“How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me! They will sometimes obtrude: but how can you court them?”
He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly; but Emma’s feelings were chiefly with Jane in the argument: and on leaving Randalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men, she felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill, and really regarding him as she did with friendship, she, had never been more sensible of Mr. Knightley’s high superiority of character. The happiness of this most happy day received its completion in the animated contemplation of his worth which this comparison produced.
Chapter XIX.
If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, a momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of her attachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man from unbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from the recurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party from London; and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour alone with Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied, unaccountable as it was, that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley, and was now forming all her views of happiness.
Harriet was a little distressed—did look a little foolish at first; but having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with the words, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend’s approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations. Harriet was most happy to give every particular of the evening at Astley’s, and the dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all with the utmost delight. But what did such particulars explain? The fact was, as Emma could now acknowledge, that Harriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his continuing to love her had been irresistible. Beyond this, it must ever be unintelligible to Emma.
The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her fresh reason for thinking so. Harriet’s parentage became known. She proved to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough to have always wished for concealment. Such was the blood of gentility which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for! It was likely to be as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman; but what a connection had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley, or for the Churchills, or even for Mr. Elton! The stain of illegitimacy, unbleached by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed.
No objection was raised on the father’s side; the young man was treated liberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fully acknowledged on him all the appearance of sense and worth which could bid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet’s happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he offered, there would be the hope of more, of security, stability, and improvement. She would be placed in the midst of those who loved her, and who had better sense than herself; retired enough for safety, and occupied enough for cheerfulness. She would be never led into temptation, nor left for it to find her out. She would be respectable and happy; and Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the world, to have created so steady and persevering an affection in such a man; or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself.
Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins, was less and less at Hartfield, which was not to be regretted. The intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change into a calmer sort of good-will; and, fortunately, what ought to be, and must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural manner.
Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood before them, could impair. Perhaps, indeed, at that time, she scarcely saw Mr. Elton, but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall on herself. Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of the three, were the first to be married.
Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells. The Mr. Churchills were also in town; and they were only waiting for November.
The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, by Emma and Mr. Knightley. They had determined that their marriage ought to be concluded, while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to allow them the fortnight’s absence in a tour to the sea-side, which was the plan. John and Isabella, and every other friend, were agreed in approving it. But Mr. Woodhouse—how was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced to consent?—he, who had never yet alluded to their marriage but as a distant event.
When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they were almost hopeless. A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain. He began to think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it—a very promising step of the mind on its way to resignation. Still, however, he was not happy. Nay, he appeared so much otherwise, that his daughter’s courage failed. She could not bear to see him suffering, to know him fancying himself neglected; and though her understanding almost acquiesced in the assurance of both the Mr. Knightleys, that when once the event were over, his distress would be soon over too, she hesitated—she could not proceed.
In this state of suspense, they were befriended, not by any sudden illumination of Mr. Woodhouse’s mind, or any wonderful change of his nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another way. Mrs. Weston’s poultry-house was robbed one night of all her turkeys,—evidendy by the ingenuity of man. Other poultry-yards in the neighbourhood also suffered. Pilfering was house-breaking to Mr. Woodhouse’s fears. He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his son-in-law’s protection, would have been under wretched alarm every night of his life. The strengt
h, resolution, and presence of mind of the Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of them protected him and his, Hartfield was safe. But Mr. John Knightley must be in London again by the end of the first week in November.
The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary, cheerful consent, than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at the moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day; and Mr. Elton was called on, within a month from the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Martin, to join the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse.
The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very inferior to her own. “Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a most pitiful business! Selina would stare when she heard of it.” But, in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.
THE END.
Endnotes
1 (p. 25) he would read something aloud out of the Elegant Extracts.... Children of the Abbey: Elegant Extracts was one of a number of popular anthologies for younger readers first published during the 1780s and reprinted during the early decades of the nineteenth century. The Vicar of Wakefield, by Oliver Goldsmith, was published in 1766; TheRomance of the Forest (1791) is by Ann Radcliffe; Regina Maria Dalton Roche wrote the tale The Children of the Abbey (1796). Although Martin has read the universally popular novel by Goldsmith, he remains untouched by the Gothic romances, whose original audiences were said to be very largely composed of women.
2 (p. 62) My first doth affliction ... to soften and heal: The answer is woman—that is, woe + man. Riddles, charades, and conundrums, popularly used as pastimes, combine verse and wordplay.
3 (p. 67) “The course of true love never did run smooth”: Emma is quoting a line from William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (act 1, scene 1).
4 (p. 67) “to speak to him, at Michaelmas”: Harriet is referring to the season surrounding the feast of Saint Michael, celebrated on September 29.
5 (p. 70) “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid ... So fatal to my suit before”: This is the first stanza of a well-known riddle, said to have been written by actor David Garrick (1717-1779). The answer is chimney-sweeper.
6 (p. 86) Cobham: This small Surrey town in the south of England is, some readers have claimed, the model for Highbury. However, no positive attribution of an actual village has ever been convincingly demonstrated.
7 (p. 94) philippics: Originally this term referred to the heated orations delivered by the Greek statesman Demosthenes (384—322 B.C.) against Philip II, the leader of Macedonia. Now “philippic” is used to indicate any bitter, goading invective.
8 (p. 141) “she fills the whole paper and crosses half”: To conserve paper, a letter in Jane Austen’s time would be written with script running both horizontally and either vertically or diagonally on the same sheet.
9 (p. 157) “our lot is cast in a goodly heritage”: This is a slightly inaccurate reference to the Bible, Psalm 16:5—7 (King James Version).
10 (p. 196) this piano-forte had arrived from Broadwood’s: Broadwood‘s, a London manufacturer renowned for the quality of its piano-fortes, was a pioneer in the technological development of the modern instrument. Beethoven used one of the instruments that they sent him.
11 (p. 218) Cramer: Johann Baptist Cramer (1771—1858), a leading pianist and prolific composer, founded a successful London music publishing firm in 1824.
12 (p. 219) “She is playing Robin Adair”: This romantic song, written in the 1750s by Lady Caroline Keppel, describes the singer’s heart-break at having lost her love, Robin Adair.
13 (p. 245) “They will have their barouche-landau”: This four-seat carriage had a collapsible top, making it convenient for exploring the countryside or for taking a turn in the park. Mrs. Elton mentions her brother’s barouche-landau in order to identify him as a person of wealth and social distinction.
14 (p. 246) “where the waters do agree”: The mineral waters of the resort town Bath, in Somerset, England, were taken as a restorative for every conceivable ailment. Bath, as a setting, features prominently in the literature of Austen’s time.
15 (p. 253) “Full many a flower ... on the desert air”: Emma would have been familiar with these lines from the well-known poem “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” by Thomas Gray (1716-1771). This is not the only occasion on which Mrs. Elton inappropriately introduces a quotation.
16 (p. 277) “before Hymen’s saffron robe”: In Greek mythology, Hymen is the god of marriage. John Milton refers to Hymen’s saffron robe in “L’Allegro” (1631).
17 (p. 307) a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box: In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, resident artisans in the region of Tunbridge Wells, Kent, produced wooden boxes, tables, and toys notable for their detailed wood mosaic inlays.
18 (p. 313) Myself creating what I saw: This is a reference to William Cowper’s (1731-1800) best-known poem, “The Task.”
19 (p. 351) Goldsmith tells us, that when lovely woman stoops to folly: The narrator is referring to Oliver Goldsmith’s novel The Vicar of Wakefield (1766).
20 (p. 363) “the world is not theirs, nor the world’s law”: Emma is recalling a line from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet (act 5, scene 1), in which Romeo says, “The world is not thy friend, nor the world’s law; / The world affords no law to make thy rich.”
21 (p. 375) for chance and circumstance (as second causes): The first cause is God or religion, in this context a heavenly design. The second cause, in this case, is chance or circumstance, decidedly undesigned. Austen’s lines echo Alexander Pope’s The Dunciad IV.
22 (p. 410) “For when a lady’s in the case, ... things give place”: These lines are from the satirical fable “The Hare and Many Friends,” by John Gay (1685-1732). At the end of the tale, the hounds eat the hare (lady).
23 (p. 417) “in Madame de Genlis’ Adelaide and Theodore”: Emma, like Austen, probably read the novel Adelaide and Theodore, by Stéphanie Félicité Brulart de Genlis, marchioness De Sillery, in its 1783 English translation.
24 (p. 419) “in the building in which N. takes M. for better, for worse”: The building referred to is the wedding chapel; Emma will use Mr. Knightley’s first name only during the wedding ceremony. “For better, for worse” are words taken from that ceremony as it is printed in the Book of Common Prayer of the Anglican Church.
25 (p. 426) “join their party the same evening to Astley’s”: They are going to a circus founded by trick rider and theatrical manager Philip Astley (1742—1814) and held in the Royal Amphitheater of Arts.
Inspired by Emma
FILM
In 1995 four of Jane Austen’s novels were made into films: Ang Lee’s Sense and Sensibility; Simon Langton’s four-and-a-half-hour miniseries Pride and Prejudice; the BBC’s production of Persuasion; and Clueless, a modernization of Emma.
Clueless is particularly innovative in its adaptation of Jane Austen. Written and directed by Amy Heckerling, the film shifts the story to a modern-day Beverly Hills high school and an environment furnished with liposuction, drug abuse, and Starbucks. Alicia Silverstone is irresistible as the charismatic Cher, the rich, spoiled, and totally irresponsible matchmaking character based on Emma. She is inviting, affectionate, warm-hearted, and well-intentioned as she wanders through her plastic world, always aiming to improve the lives of others. She acts as a matchmaker for her teachers, makes over a coarse Brooklyn transplant, and keeps her stressed father’s cholesterol at acceptable levels. The film reproduces the confused romances of the novel, and the change in period allows for humorous translations: In the novel, gypsies harass Harriet; in the movie, boys at the mall hang Tai over the railing. Both subtle and self-mocking, Clueless was such a hit that it led to a television series—though one that l
argely ignored its origins in Jane Austen.
Douglas McGrath’s Emma (1996) is a stricter adaptation of Austen. In this light and finely toned version, Gwyneth Paltrow shines in the title role, supported by Toni Collette as Harriet, Jeremy Northam as Mr. Knightley, Alan Cumming as Mr. Elton, and Ewan McGregor in the role of Frank Churchill. Paltrow brings to life the nuances of gesture, facial expression, and manner of Austen’s Emma. The film’s production design is subtle and precise: in one scene, potted orange trees in a lush room frame a posing Emma; the lace, curtains, and croquet sets adorning the estates are pitch-perfect. In the opening sequence, a globe of the world spins amid the stars as the credits roll by, an ironic gesture that underscores the unimportance of village life in the grand scheme of things.
A ROOM OF ONE’S OWN
Virginia Woolf invokes Jane Austen with reverence in her landmark feminist tract A Room of One’s Own (1929). Lamenting the paucity of great woman writers in history, Woolf ascribes the phenomenon partially to the fact that writers need privacy to compose their works—a room of their own, which Austen lacked. Woolf describes the remarkable conditions in which Austen composed her masterpieces: in the family sitting-room, subject to frequent interruption, hiding her works with blotting paper whenever visitors entered. Yet despite these impediments and the confining patriarchal society in which she lived, Austen was, as Woolf put it, able to compose “without hate, without bitterness, without fear, without protest, without preaching. That was how Shakespeare wrote.”
Comments & Questions
In this section, we aim to provide the reader with an array of perspectives on the text, as well as questions that challenge those perspectives. The commentary has been culled from sources as diverse as reviews contemporaneous with the work, letters written by the author, literary criticism of later generations, and appreciations written throughout the work’s history. Following the commentary, a series of questions seeks to filter Jane Austen’s Emma through a variety of points of view and bring about a richer understanding of this enduring work.