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Emma
by Jane Austen
VOLUME II
CHAPTER XI
It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have
been known of young people passing many, many months successively,
without being at any ball of any description, and no material injury
accrue either to body or mind;--but when a beginning is made-- when
the felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly,
felt--it must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.
Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance
again; and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse
was persuaded to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed
by the two young people in schemes on the subject. Frank's was the
first idea; and his the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady
was the best judge of the difficulties, and the most solicitous
for accommodation and appearance. But still she had inclination
enough for shewing people again how delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill
and Miss Woodhouse danced--for doing that in which she need not
blush to compare herself with Jane Fairfax--and even for simple
dancing itself, without any of the wicked aids of vanity--to assist
him first in pacing out the room they were in to see what it could
be made to hold--and then in taking the dimensions of the other
parlour, in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that Mr. Weston
could say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little the
largest.
His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr.
Cole's should be finished there--that the same party should be collected,
and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence.
Mr. Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs.
Weston most willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish
to dance; and the interesting employment had followed, of reckoning
up exactly who there would be, and portioning out the indispensable
division of space to every couple.
"You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and
the two Miss Coxes five," had been repeated many times over.
"And there will be the two Gilberts, young Cox, my father,
and myself, besides Mr. Knightley. Yes, that will be quite enough
for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three,
and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five couple there will be plenty
of room."
But soon it came to be on one side,
"But will there be good room for five couple?--I really do
not think there will."
On another,
"And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth
while to stand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously
about it. It will not do to invite five couple. It can be allowable
only as the thought of the moment."
Somebody said that Miss Gilbert was expected at her brother's,
and must be invited with the rest. Somebody else believed Mrs. Gilbert
would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word
was put in for a second young Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston naming
one family of cousins who must be included, and another of very
old acquaintance who could not be left out, it became a certainty
that the five couple would be at least ten, and a very interesting
speculation in what possible manner they could be disposed of.
The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. "Might
not they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?" It
seemed the best scheme; and yet it was not so good but that many
of them wanted a better. Emma said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston
was in distress about the supper; and Mr. Woodhouse opposed it earnestly,
on the score of health. It made him so very unhappy, indeed, that
it could not be persevered in.
"Oh! no," said he; "it would be the extreme of imprudence.
I could not bear it for Emma!--Emma is not strong. She would catch
a dreadful cold. So would poor little Harriet. So you would all.
Mrs. Weston, you would be quite laid up; do not let them talk of
such a wild thing. Pray do not let them talk of it. That young man
(speaking lower) is very thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but
that young man is not quite the thing. He has been opening the doors
very often this evening, and keeping them open very inconsiderately.
He does not think of the draught. I do not mean to set you against
him, but indeed he is not quite the thing!"
Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the importance
of it, and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door
was now closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme
of dancing only in the room they were in resorted to again; and
with such good-will on Frank Churchill's part, that the space which
a quarter of an hour before had been deemed barely sufficient for
five couple, was now endeavoured to be made out quite enough for
ten.
"We were too magnificent," said he. "We allowed
unnecessary room. Ten couple may stand here very well."
Emma demurred. "It would be a crowd--a sad crowd; and what
could be worse than dancing without space to turn in?"
"Very true," he gravely replied; "it was very bad."
But still he went on measuring, and still he ended with,
"I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple."
"No, no," said she, "you are quite unreasonable.
It would be dreadful to be standing so close! Nothing can be farther
from pleasure than to be dancing in a crowd--and a crowd in a little
room!"
"There is no denying it," he replied. "I agree with
you exactly. A crowd in a little room--Miss Woodhouse, you have
the art of giving pictures in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!--Still,
however, having proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter
up. It would be a disappointment to my father--and altogether--I
do not know that--I am rather of opinion that ten couple might stand
here very well."
Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little self-willed,
and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of dancing
with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave the rest. Had
she intended ever to marry him, it might have been worth while to
pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference,
and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their
acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.
Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he
entered the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance
of the scheme. It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement.
"Well, Miss Woodhouse," he almost immediately began,
"your inclination for dancing has not been quite frightened
away, I hope, by the terrors of my father's little rooms. I bring
a new proposal on the subject:--a thought of my father's, which
waits only your approbation to be acted upon. May I hope for the
honour of your hand for the two first dances of this little projected
ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the Crown Inn?"
"The Crown!"
"Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust
you cannot, my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit
him there. Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a
less grateful welcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs.
Weston sees no objection to it, provided you are satisfied. This
is what we all feel. Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in
either of the Randalls rooms, would have been insufferable!--Dreadful!--I
felt how right you were the whole time, but was too anxious for
securing any thing to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange?--You
consent-- I hope you consent?"
"It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if Mr.
and Mrs. Weston do not. I think it admirable; and, as far as I can
answer for myself, shall be most happy--It seems the only improvement
that could be. Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?"
She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully comprehended;
and then, being quite new, farther representations were necessary
to make it acceptable.
"No; he thought it very far from an improvement--a very bad
plan-- much worse than the other. A room at an inn was always damp
and dangerous; never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If
they must dance, they had better dance at Randalls. He had never
been in the room at the Crown in his life--did not know the people
who kept it by sight.--Oh! no--a very bad plan. They would catch
worse colds at the Crown than anywhere."
"I was going to observe, sir," said Frank Churchill,
"that one of the great recommendations of this change would
be the very little danger of any body's catching cold-- so much
less danger at the Crown than at Randalls! Mr. Perry might have
reason to regret the alteration, but nobody else could."
"Sir," said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, "you are
very much mistaken if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character.
Mr. Perry is extremely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do
not understand how the room at the Crown can be safer for you than
your father's house."
"From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall
have no occasion to open the windows at all--not once the whole
evening; and it is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting
in cold air upon heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does
the ischief."
"Open the windows!--but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would
think of opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent!
I never heard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows!--I am
sure, neither your father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that
was) would suffer it."
"Ah! sir--but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step
behind a window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being
suspected. I have often known it done myself."
"Have you indeed, sir?--Bless me! I never could have supposed
it. But I live out of the world, and am often astonished at what
I hear. However, this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when
we come to talk it over--but these sort of things require a good
deal of consideration. One cannot resolve upon them in a hurry.If
Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so obliging as to call here one morning,
we may talk it over, and see what can be done."
"But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited--"
"Oh!" interrupted Emma, "there will be plenty of
time for talking every thing over. There is no hurry at all. If
it can be contrived to be at the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient
for the horses. They will be so near their own stable."
"So they will, my dear. That is a great thing. Not that James
ever complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can.
If I could be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired--but is Mrs.
Stokes to be trusted? I doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight."
"I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because
it will be under Mrs. Weston's care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct
the whole."
"There, papa!--Now you must be satisfied--Our own dear Mrs.
Weston, who is carefulness itself. Do not you remember what Mr.
Perry said, so many years ago, when I had the measles? `If Miss
Taylor undertakes to wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears,
sir.' How often have I heard you speak of it as such a compliment
to her!"
"Aye, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget
it. Poor little Emma! You were very bad with the measles; that is,
you would have been very bad, but for Perry's great attention. He
came four times a day for a week. He said, from the first, it was
a very good sort--which was our great comfort; but the measles are
a dreadful complaint. I hope whenever poor Isabella's little ones
have the measles, she will send for Perry."
"My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,"
said Frank Churchill, "examining the capabilities of the house.
I left them there and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion,
and hoping you might be persuaded to join them and give your advice
on the spot. I was desired to say so from both. It would be the
greatest pleasure to them, if you could allow me to attend you there.
They can do nothing satisfactorily without you."
Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father,
engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young
people set off together without delay for the Crown. There were
Mr. and Mrs. Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation,
very busy and very happy in their different way; she, in some little
distress; and he, finding every thing perfect.
"Emma," said she, "this paper is worse than I expected.
Look! in places you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot
is more yellow and forlorn than any thing I could have imagined."
"My dear, you are too particular," said her husband.
"What does all that signify? You will see nothing of it by
candlelight. It will be as clean as Randalls by candlelight. We
never see any thing of it on our club-nights."
The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, "Men
never know when things are dirty or not;" and the gentlemen
perhaps thought each to himself, "Women will have their little
nonsenses and needless cares."
One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain.
It regarded a supper-room. At the time of the ballroom's being built,
suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining,
was the only addition. What was to be done? This card-room would
be wanted as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted
unnecessary by their four selves, still was it not too small for
any comfortable supper? Another room of much better size might be
secured for the purpose; but it was at the other end of the house,
and a long awkward passage must be gone through to get at it. This
made a difficulty. Mrs. Weston was afraid of draughts for the young
people in that passage; and neither Emma nor the gentlemen could
tolerate the prospect of being miserably crowded at supper.
Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches,
&c., set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a wretched
suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was
pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and
Mrs. Weston must not speak of it again. She then took another line
of expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed,
"I do not think it is so very small. We shall not be many,you
know."
And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps
through the passage, was calling out,
"You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear.
It is a mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the
stairs."
"I wish," said Mrs. Weston, "one could know which
arrangement our guests in general would like best. To do what would
be most generally pleasing must be our object--if one could but
tell what that would be."
"Yes, very true," cried Frank, "very true. You want
your neighbours' opinions. I do not wonder at you. If one could
ascertain what the chief of them--the Coles, for instance. They
are not far off. Shall I call upon them? Or Miss Bates? She is still
nearer.-- And I do not know whether Miss Bates is not as likely
to understand the inclinations of the rest of the people as any
body. I think we do want a larger council. Suppose I go and invite
Miss Bates to join us?"
"Well--if you please," said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating,
"if you think she will be of any use."
"You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,"
said Emma. "She will be all delight and gratitude, but she
will tell you nothing. She will not even listen to your questions.
I see no advantage in consulting Miss Bates."
"But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing! I am very fond
of hearing Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family,
you know."
Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed,
gave it his decided approbation.
"Aye, do, Frank.--Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end
the matter at once. She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I
do not know a properer person for shewing us how to do away difficulties.
Fetch Miss Bates. We are growing a little too nice. She is a standing
lesson of how to be happy. But fetch them both. Invite them both."
"Both sir! Can the old lady?" . . .
"The old lady! No, the young lady, to be sure. I shall think
you a great blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the
niece."
"Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did not immediately recollect.
Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both."
And away he ran.
Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving
aunt, and her elegant niece,--Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered
woman and a good wife, had examined the passage again, and found
the evils of it much less than she had supposed before-- indeed
very trifling; and here ended the difficulties of decision. All
the rest, in speculation at least, was perfectly smooth. All the
minor arrangements of table and chair, lights and music, tea and
supper, made themselves; or were left as mere trifles to be settled
at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Stokes.-- Every body invited,
was certainly to come; Frank had already written to Enscombe to
propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight, which could not
possibly be refused. And a delightful dance it was to be.
Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it
must. As a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a
much safer character,) she was truly welcome. Her approbation, at
once general and minute, warm and incessant, could not but please;
and for another half-hour they were all walking to and fro, between
the different rooms, some suggesting, some attending, and all in
happy enjoyment of the future. The party did not break up without
Emma's being positively secured for the two first dances by the
hero of the evening, nor without her overhearing Mr. Weston whisper
to his wife, "He has asked her, my dear. That's right. I knew
he would!"
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