Chapter 1
Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a
man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but
the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour,
and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties
were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating
the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any
unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed
naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the
almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if
every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own
history with an interest which never failed. This was the
page at which the favorite volume always opened:
"ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL.
"Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760, married, July 15, 1784,
Elizabeth, daughter of James Stevenson, Esq. of South Park,
in the county of Gloucester, by which lady (who died 1800)
he has issue Elizabeth, born June 1, 1785; Anne, born August
9, 1787; a still-born son, November 5, 1789; Mary, born
November 20, 1791."
Precisely such had the paragraph originally stood from the
printer's hands; but Sir Walter had improved it by adding,
for the information of himself and his family, these words,
after the date of Mary's birth -- "Married, December 16,
1810, Charles, son and heir of Charles Musgrove, Esq. of
Uppercross, in the county of Somerset," and by inserting
most accurately the day of the month on which he had lost
his wife.
Then followed the history and rise of the ancient and
respectable family, in the usual terms; how it had been
first settled in Cheshire; how mentioned in Dugdale, serving
the office of high sheriff, representing a borough in three
successive parliaments, exertions of loyalty, and dignity of
baronet, in the first year of Charles II, with all the Marys
and Elizabeths they had married; forming altogether two
handsome duodecimo pages, and concluding with the arms and
motto: -- "Principal seat, Kellynch Hall, in the county of
Somerset," and Sir Walter's handwriting again in this finale: --
"Heir presumptive, William Walter Elliot, Esq., great
grandson of the second Sir Walter."
Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's
character; vanity of person and of situation. He had been
remarkably handsome in his youth; and, at fifty-four, was
still a very fine man. Few women could think more of their
personal appearance than he did, nor could the valet of any
new made lord be more delighted with the place he held in
society. He considered the blessing of beauty as inferior
only to the blessing of a baronetcy; and the Sir Walter
Elliot, who united these gifts, was the constant object of
his warmest respect and devotion.
His good looks and his rank had one fair claim on his
attachment; since to them he must have owed a wife of very
superior character to any thing deserved by his own. Lady
Elliot had been an excellent woman, sensible and amiable;
whose judgement and conduct, if they might be pardoned the
youthful infatuation which made her Lady Elliot, had never
required indulgence afterwards. -- She had humoured, or
softened, or concealed his failings, and promoted his real
respectability for seventeen years; and though not the very
happiest being in the world herself, had found enough in her
duties, her friends, and her children, to attach her to
life, and make it no matter of indifference to her when she
was called on to quit them. -- Three girls, the two eldest
sixteen and fourteen, was an awful legacy for a mother to
bequeath, an awful charge rather, to confide to the
authority and guidance of a conceited, silly father. She
had, however, one very intimate friend, a sensible,
deserving woman, who had been brought, by strong attachment
to herself, to settle close by her, in the village of
Kellynch; and on her kindness and advice, Lady Elliot mainly
relied for the best help and maintenance of the good
principles and instruction which she had been anxiously
giving her daughters.
This friend, and Sir Walter, did not marry, whatever might
have been anticipated on that head by their acquaintance.
Thirteen years had passed away since Lady Elliot's death,
and they were still near neighbours and intimate friends,
and one remained a widower, the other a widow.
That Lady Russell, of steady age and character, and
extremely well provided for, should have no thought of a
second marriage, needs no apology to the public, which is
rather apt to be unreasonably discontented when a woman does
marry again, than when she does not; but Sir Walter's
continuing in singleness requires explanation. Be it known
then, that Sir Walter, like a good father, (having met with
one or two private disappointments in very unreasonable
applications), prided himself on remaining single for his
dear daughters' sake. For one daughter, his eldest, he would
really have given up any thing, which he had not been very
much tempted to do. Elizabeth had succeeded, at sixteen, to
all that was possible, of her mother's rights and
consequence; and being very handsome, and very like himself,
her influence had always been great, and they had gone on
together most happily. His two other children were of very
inferior value. Mary had acquired a little artificial
importance, by becoming Mrs Charles Musgrove; but Anne, with
an elegance of mind and sweetness of character, which must
have placed her high with any people of real understanding,
was nobody with either father or sister; her word had no
weight, her convenience was always to give way -- she was
only Anne.
To Lady Russell, indeed, she was a most dear and highly
valued god-daughter, favourite, and friend. Lady Russell
loved them all; but it was only in Anne that she could fancy
the mother to revive again.
A few years before, Anne Elliot had been a very pretty girl,
but her bloom had vanished early; and as even in its height,
her father had found little to admire in her, (so totally
different were her delicate features and mild dark eyes from
his own), there could be nothing in them, now that she was
faded and thin, to excite his esteem. He had never indulged
much hope, he had now none, of ever reading her name in any
other page of his favourite work. All equality of alliance
must rest with Elizabeth, for Mary had merely connected
herself with an old country family of respectability and
large fortune, and had therefore given all the honour and
received none: Elizabeth would, one day or other, marry
suitably.
It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at
twenty-nine than she was ten years before; and, generally
speaking, if there has been neither ill health nor anxiety,
it is a time of life at which scarcely any charm is lost. It
was so with Elizabeth, still the same handsome Miss Elliot
that she had begun to be thirteen years ago, and Sir Walter
might be excused, therefore, in forgetting her age, or, at
least, be deemed only half a fool, for thinking himself and
Elizabeth as blooming as ever, amidst the wreck of the good
looks of everybody else; for he could plainly see how old
all the rest of his family and acquaintance were growing.
Anne haggard, Mary coarse, every face in the neighbourhood
worsting, and the rapid increase of the crow's foot about
Lady Russell's temples had long been a distress to him.
Elizabeth did not quite equal her father in personal
contentment. Thirteen years had seen her mistress of
Kellynch Hall, presiding and directing with a
self-possession and decision which could never have given
the idea of her being younger than she was. For thirteen
years had she been doing the honours, and laying down the
domestic law at home, and leading the way to the chaise and
four, and walking immediately after Lady Russell out of all
the drawing-rooms and dining-rooms in the country. Thirteen
winters' revolving frosts had seen her opening every ball of
credit which a scanty neighbourhood afforded, and thirteen
springs shewn their blossoms, as she travelled up to London
with her father, for a few weeks' annual enjoyment of the
great world. She had the remembrance of all this, she had
the consciousness of being nine-and-twenty to give her some
regrets and some apprehensions; she was fully satisfied of
being still quite as handsome as ever, but she felt her
approach to the years of danger, and would have rejoiced to
be certain of being properly solicited by baronet-blood
within the next twelvemonth or two. Then might she again
take up the book of books with as much enjoyment as in her
early youth, but now she liked it not. Always to be
presented with the date of her own birth and see no marriage
follow but that of a youngest sister, made the book an evil;
and more than once, when her father had left it open on the
table near her, had she closed it, with averted eyes, and
pushed it away.
She had had a disappointment, moreover, which that book, and
especially the history of her own family, must ever present
the remembrance of. The heir presumptive, the very William
Walter Elliot, Esq., whose rights had been so generously
supported by her father, had disappointed her.
She had, while a very young girl, as soon as she had known
him to be, in the event of her having no brother, the future
baronet, meant to marry him, and her father had always meant
that she should. He had not been known to them as a boy; but
soon after Lady Elliot's death, Sir Walter had sought the
acquaintance, and though his overtures had not been met with
any warmth, he had persevered in seeking it, making
allowance for the modest drawing-back of youth; and, in one
of their spring excursions to London, when Elizabeth was in
her first bloom, Mr Elliot had been forced into the
introduction.
He was at that time a very young man, just engaged in the
study of the law; and Elizabeth found him extremely
agreeable, and every plan in his favour was confirmed. He
was invited to Kellynch Hall; he was talked of and expected
all the rest of the year; but he never came. The following
spring he was seen again in town, found equally agreeable,
again encouraged, invited, and expected, and again he did
not come; and the next tidings were that he was married.
Instead of pushing his fortune in the line marked out for
the heir of the house of Elliot, he had purchased
independence by uniting himself to a rich woman of inferior
birth.
Sir Walter has resented it. As the head of the house, he
felt that he ought to have been consulted, especially after
taking the young man so publicly by the hand; "For they must
have been seen together," he observed, "once at Tattersal's,
and twice in the lobby of the House of Commons." His
disapprobation was expressed, but apparently very little
regarded. Mr Elliot had attempted no apology, and shewn
himself as unsolicitous of being longer noticed by the
family, as Sir Walter considered him unworthy of it: all
acquaintance between them had ceased.
This very awkward history of Mr Elliot was still, after an
interval of several years, felt with anger by Elizabeth, who
had liked the man for himself, and still more for being her
father's heir, and whose strong family pride could see only
in him a proper match for Sir Walter Elliot's eldest
daughter. There was not a baronet from A to Z whom her
feelings could have so willingly acknowledged as an equal.
Yet so miserably had he conducted himself, that though she
was at this present time (the summer of 1814) wearing black
ribbons for his wife, she could not admit him to be worth
thinking of again. The disgrace of his first marriage might,
perhaps, as there was no reason to suppose it perpetuated by
offspring, have been got over, had he not done worse; but he
had, as by the accustomary intervention of kind friends,
they had been informed, spoken most disrespectfully of them
all, most slightingly and contemptuously of the very blood
he belonged to, and the honours which were hereafter to be
his own. This could not be pardoned.
Such were Elizabeth Elliot's sentiments and sensations; such
the cares to alloy, the agitations to vary, the sameness and
the elegance, the prosperity and the nothingness of her
scene of life; such the feelings to give interest to a long,
uneventful residence in one country circle, to fill the
vacancies which there were no habits of utility abroad, no
talents or accomplishments for home, to occupy.
But now, another occupation and solicitude of mind was
beginning to be added to these. Her father was growing
distressed for money. She knew, that when he now took up the
Baronetage, it was to drive the heavy bills of his
tradespeople, and the unwelcome hints of Mr Shepherd, his
agent, from his thoughts. The Kellynch property was good,
but not equal to Sir Walter's apprehension of the state
required in its possessor. While Lady Elliot lived, there
had been method, moderation, and economy, which had just
kept him within his income; but with her had died all such
right-mindedness, and from that period he had been
constantly exceeding it. It had not been possible for him to
spend less; he had done nothing but what Sir Walter Elliot
was imperiously called on to do; but blameless as he was, he
was not only growing dreadfully in debt, but was hearing of
it so often, that it became vain to attempt concealing it
longer, even partially, from his daughter. He had given her
some hints of it the last spring in town; he had gone so far
even as to say, "Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that
there is any one article in which we can retrench?" and
Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of
female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and
had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut
off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new
furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she
afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no
present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom.
But these measures, however good in themselves, were
insufficient for the real extent of the evil, the whole of
which Sir Walter found himself obliged to confess to her
soon afterwards. Elizabeth had nothing to propose of deeper
efficacy. She felt herself ill-used and unfortunate, as did
her father; and they were neither of them able to devise any
means of lessening their expenses without compromising their
dignity, or relinquishing their comforts in a way not to be
borne.
There was only a small part of his estate that Sir Walter
could dispose of; but had every acre been alienable, it
would have made no difference. He had condescended to
mortgage as far as he had the power, but he would never
condescend to sell. No; he would never disgrace his name so
far. The Kellynch estate should be transmitted whole and
entire, as he had received it.
Their two confidential friends, Mr Shepherd, who lived in
the neighbouring market town, and Lady Russell, were called
to advise them; and both father and daughter seemed to
expect that something should be struck out by one or the
other to remove their embarrassments and reduce their
expenditure, without involving the loss of any indulgence of
taste or pride.