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<h2> CHAPTER VI </h2>
<p>Mr. Bertram set off for————, and Miss Crawford was
prepared to find a great chasm in their society, and to miss him decidedly
in the meetings which were now becoming almost daily between the families;
and on their all dining together at the Park soon after his going, she
retook her chosen place near the bottom of the table, fully expecting to
feel a most melancholy difference in the change of masters. It would be a
very flat business, she was sure. In comparison with his brother, Edmund
would have nothing to say. The soup would be sent round in a most
spiritless manner, wine drank without any smiles or agreeable trifling,
and the venison cut up without supplying one pleasant anecdote of any
former haunch, or a single entertaining story, about "my friend such a
one." She must try to find amusement in what was passing at the upper end
of the table, and in observing Mr. Rushworth, who was now making his
appearance at Mansfield for the first time since the Crawfords' arrival.
He had been visiting a friend in the neighbouring county, and that friend
having recently had his grounds laid out by an improver, Mr. Rushworth was
returned with his head full of the subject, and very eager to be improving
his own place in the same way; and though not saying much to the purpose,
could talk of nothing else. The subject had been already handled in the
drawing-room; it was revived in the dining-parlour. Miss Bertram's
attention and opinion was evidently his chief aim; and though her
deportment showed rather conscious superiority than any solicitude to
oblige him, the mention of Sotherton Court, and the ideas attached to it,
gave her a feeling of complacency, which prevented her from being very
ungracious.</p>
<p>"I wish you could see Compton," said he; "it is the most complete thing! I
never saw a place so altered in my life. I told Smith I did not know where
I was. The approach <i>now</i>, is one of the finest things in the
country: you see the house in the most surprising manner. I declare, when
I got back to Sotherton yesterday, it looked like a prison—quite a
dismal old prison."</p>
<p>"Oh, for shame!" cried Mrs. Norris. "A prison indeed? Sotherton Court is
the noblest old place in the world."</p>
<p>"It wants improvement, ma'am, beyond anything. I never saw a place that
wanted so much improvement in my life; and it is so forlorn that I do not
know what can be done with it."</p>
<p>"No wonder that Mr. Rushworth should think so at present," said Mrs. Grant
to Mrs. Norris, with a smile; "but depend upon it, Sotherton will have <i>every</i>
improvement in time which his heart can desire."</p>
<p>"I must try to do something with it," said Mr. Rushworth, "but I do not
know what. I hope I shall have some good friend to help me."</p>
<p>"Your best friend upon such an occasion," said Miss Bertram calmly, "would
be Mr. Repton, I imagine."</p>
<p>"That is what I was thinking of. As he has done so well by Smith, I think
I had better have him at once. His terms are five guineas a day."</p>
<p>"Well, and if they were <i>ten</i>," cried Mrs. Norris, "I am sure <i>you</i>
need not regard it. The expense need not be any impediment. If I were you,
I should not think of the expense. I would have everything done in the
best style, and made as nice as possible. Such a place as Sotherton Court
deserves everything that taste and money can do. You have space to work
upon there, and grounds that will well reward you. For my own part, if I
had anything within the fiftieth part of the size of Sotherton, I should
be always planting and improving, for naturally I am excessively fond of
it. It would be too ridiculous for me to attempt anything where I am now,
with my little half acre. It would be quite a burlesque. But if I had more
room, I should take a prodigious delight in improving and planting. We did
a vast deal in that way at the Parsonage: we made it quite a different
place from what it was when we first had it. You young ones do not
remember much about it, perhaps; but if dear Sir Thomas were here, he
could tell you what improvements we made: and a great deal more would have
been done, but for poor Mr. Norris's sad state of health. He could hardly
ever get out, poor man, to enjoy anything, and <i>that</i> disheartened me
from doing several things that Sir Thomas and I used to talk of. If it had
not been for <i>that</i>, we should have carried on the garden wall, and
made the plantation to shut out the churchyard, just as Dr. Grant has
done. We were always doing something as it was. It was only the spring
twelvemonth before Mr. Norris's death that we put in the apricot against
the stable wall, which is now grown such a noble tree, and getting to such
perfection, sir," addressing herself then to Dr. Grant.</p>
<p>"The tree thrives well, beyond a doubt, madam," replied Dr. Grant. "The
soil is good; and I never pass it without regretting that the fruit should
be so little worth the trouble of gathering."</p>
<p>"Sir, it is a Moor Park, we bought it as a Moor Park, and it cost us—that
is, it was a present from Sir Thomas, but I saw the bill—and I know
it cost seven shillings, and was charged as a Moor Park."</p>
<p>"You were imposed on, ma'am," replied Dr. Grant: "these potatoes have as
much the flavour of a Moor Park apricot as the fruit from that tree. It is
an insipid fruit at the best; but a good apricot is eatable, which none
from my garden are."</p>
<p>"The truth is, ma'am," said Mrs. Grant, pretending to whisper across the
table to Mrs. Norris, "that Dr. Grant hardly knows what the natural taste
of our apricot is: he is scarcely ever indulged with one, for it is so
valuable a fruit; with a little assistance, and ours is such a remarkably
large, fair sort, that what with early tarts and preserves, my cook
contrives to get them all."</p>
<p>Mrs. Norris, who had begun to redden, was appeased; and, for a little
while, other subjects took place of the improvements of Sotherton. Dr.
Grant and Mrs. Norris were seldom good friends; their acquaintance had
begun in dilapidations, and their habits were totally dissimilar.</p>
<p>After a short interruption Mr. Rushworth began again. "Smith's place is
the admiration of all the country; and it was a mere nothing before Repton
took it in hand. I think I shall have Repton."</p>
<p>"Mr. Rushworth," said Lady Bertram, "if I were you, I would have a very
pretty shrubbery. One likes to get out into a shrubbery in fine weather."</p>
<p>Mr. Rushworth was eager to assure her ladyship of his acquiescence, and
tried to make out something complimentary; but, between his submission to
<i>her</i> taste, and his having always intended the same himself, with
the superadded objects of professing attention to the comfort of ladies in
general, and of insinuating that there was one only whom he was anxious to
please, he grew puzzled, and Edmund was glad to put an end to his speech
by a proposal of wine. Mr. Rushworth, however, though not usually a great
talker, had still more to say on the subject next his heart. "Smith has
not much above a hundred acres altogether in his grounds, which is little
enough, and makes it more surprising that the place can have been so
improved. Now, at Sotherton we have a good seven hundred, without
reckoning the water meadows; so that I think, if so much could be done at
Compton, we need not despair. There have been two or three fine old trees
cut down, that grew too near the house, and it opens the prospect
amazingly, which makes me think that Repton, or anybody of that sort,
would certainly have the avenue at Sotherton down: the avenue that leads
from the west front to the top of the hill, you know," turning to Miss
Bertram particularly as he spoke. But Miss Bertram thought it most
becoming to reply—</p>
<p>"The avenue! Oh! I do not recollect it. I really know very little of
Sotherton."</p>
<p>Fanny, who was sitting on the other side of Edmund, exactly opposite Miss
Crawford, and who had been attentively listening, now looked at him, and
said in a low voice—</p>
<p>"Cut down an avenue! What a pity! Does it not make you think of Cowper?
'Ye fallen avenues, once more I mourn your fate unmerited.'"</p>
<p>He smiled as he answered, "I am afraid the avenue stands a bad chance,
Fanny."</p>
<p>"I should like to see Sotherton before it is cut down, to see the place as
it is now, in its old state; but I do not suppose I shall."</p>
<p>"Have you never been there? No, you never can; and, unluckily, it is out
of distance for a ride. I wish we could contrive it."</p>
<p>"Oh! it does not signify. Whenever I do see it, you will tell me how it
has been altered."</p>
<p>"I collect," said Miss Crawford, "that Sotherton is an old place, and a
place of some grandeur. In any particular style of building?"</p>
<p>"The house was built in Elizabeth's time, and is a large, regular, brick
building; heavy, but respectable looking, and has many good rooms. It is
ill placed. It stands in one of the lowest spots of the park; in that
respect, unfavourable for improvement. But the woods are fine, and there
is a stream, which, I dare say, might be made a good deal of. Mr.
Rushworth is quite right, I think, in meaning to give it a modern dress,
and I have no doubt that it will be all done extremely well."</p>
<p>Miss Crawford listened with submission, and said to herself, "He is a
well-bred man; he makes the best of it."</p>
<p>"I do not wish to influence Mr. Rushworth," he continued; "but, had I a
place to new fashion, I should not put myself into the hands of an
improver. I would rather have an inferior degree of beauty, of my own
choice, and acquired progressively. I would rather abide by my own
blunders than by his."</p>
<p>"<i>You</i> would know what you were about, of course; but that would not
suit <i>me</i>. I have no eye or ingenuity for such matters, but as they
are before me; and had I a place of my own in the country, I should be
most thankful to any Mr. Repton who would undertake it, and give me as
much beauty as he could for my money; and I should never look at it till
it was complete."</p>
<p>"It would be delightful to <i>me</i> to see the progress of it all," said
Fanny.</p>
<p>"Ay, you have been brought up to it. It was no part of my education; and
the only dose I ever had, being administered by not the first favourite in
the world, has made me consider improvements <i>in</i> <i>hand</i> as the
greatest of nuisances. Three years ago the Admiral, my honoured uncle,
bought a cottage at Twickenham for us all to spend our summers in; and my
aunt and I went down to it quite in raptures; but it being excessively
pretty, it was soon found necessary to be improved, and for three months
we were all dirt and confusion, without a gravel walk to step on, or a
bench fit for use. I would have everything as complete as possible in the
country, shrubberies and flower-gardens, and rustic seats innumerable: but
it must all be done without my care. Henry is different; he loves to be
doing."</p>
<p>Edmund was sorry to hear Miss Crawford, whom he was much disposed to
admire, speak so freely of her uncle. It did not suit his sense of
propriety, and he was silenced, till induced by further smiles and
liveliness to put the matter by for the present.</p>
<p>"Mr. Bertram," said she, "I have tidings of my harp at last. I am assured
that it is safe at Northampton; and there it has probably been these ten
days, in spite of the solemn assurances we have so often received to the
contrary." Edmund expressed his pleasure and surprise. "The truth is, that
our inquiries were too direct; we sent a servant, we went ourselves: this
will not do seventy miles from London; but this morning we heard of it in
the right way. It was seen by some farmer, and he told the miller, and the
miller told the butcher, and the butcher's son-in-law left word at the
shop."</p>
<p>"I am very glad that you have heard of it, by whatever means, and hope
there will be no further delay."</p>
<p>"I am to have it to-morrow; but how do you think it is to be conveyed? Not
by a wagon or cart: oh no! nothing of that kind could be hired in the
village. I might as well have asked for porters and a handbarrow."</p>
<p>"You would find it difficult, I dare say, just now, in the middle of a
very late hay harvest, to hire a horse and cart?"</p>
<p>"I was astonished to find what a piece of work was made of it! To want a
horse and cart in the country seemed impossible, so I told my maid to
speak for one directly; and as I cannot look out of my dressing-closet
without seeing one farmyard, nor walk in the shrubbery without passing
another, I thought it would be only ask and have, and was rather grieved
that I could not give the advantage to all. Guess my surprise, when I
found that I had been asking the most unreasonable, most impossible thing
in the world; had offended all the farmers, all the labourers, all the hay
in the parish! As for Dr. Grant's bailiff, I believe I had better keep out
of <i>his</i> way; and my brother-in-law himself, who is all kindness in
general, looked rather black upon me when he found what I had been at."</p>
<p>"You could not be expected to have thought on the subject before; but when
you <i>do</i> think of it, you must see the importance of getting in the
grass. The hire of a cart at any time might not be so easy as you suppose:
our farmers are not in the habit of letting them out; but, in harvest, it
must be quite out of their power to spare a horse."</p>
<p>"I shall understand all your ways in time; but, coming down with the true
London maxim, that everything is to be got with money, I was a little
embarrassed at first by the sturdy independence of your country customs.
However, I am to have my harp fetched to-morrow. Henry, who is good-nature
itself, has offered to fetch it in his barouche. Will it not be honourably
conveyed?"</p>
<p>Edmund spoke of the harp as his favourite instrument, and hoped to be soon
allowed to hear her. Fanny had never heard the harp at all, and wished for
it very much.</p>
<p>"I shall be most happy to play to you both," said Miss Crawford; "at least
as long as you can like to listen: probably much longer, for I dearly love
music myself, and where the natural taste is equal the player must always
be best off, for she is gratified in more ways than one. Now, Mr. Bertram,
if you write to your brother, I entreat you to tell him that my harp is
come: he heard so much of my misery about it. And you may say, if you
please, that I shall prepare my most plaintive airs against his return, in
compassion to his feelings, as I know his horse will lose."</p>
<p>"If I write, I will say whatever you wish me; but I do not, at present,
foresee any occasion for writing."</p>
<p>"No, I dare say, nor if he were to be gone a twelvemonth, would you ever
write to him, nor he to you, if it could be helped. The occasion would
never be foreseen. What strange creatures brothers are! You would not
write to each other but upon the most urgent necessity in the world; and
when obliged to take up the pen to say that such a horse is ill, or such a
relation dead, it is done in the fewest possible words. You have but one
style among you. I know it perfectly. Henry, who is in every other respect
exactly what a brother should be, who loves me, consults me, confides in
me, and will talk to me by the hour together, has never yet turned the
page in a letter; and very often it is nothing more than—'Dear Mary,
I am just arrived. Bath seems full, and everything as usual. Yours
sincerely.' That is the true manly style; that is a complete brother's
letter."</p>
<p>"When they are at a distance from all their family," said Fanny, colouring
for William's sake, "they can write long letters."</p>
<p>"Miss Price has a brother at sea," said Edmund, "whose excellence as a
correspondent makes her think you too severe upon us."</p>
<p>"At sea, has she? In the king's service, of course?"</p>
<p>Fanny would rather have had Edmund tell the story, but his determined
silence obliged her to relate her brother's situation: her voice was
animated in speaking of his profession, and the foreign stations he had
been on; but she could not mention the number of years that he had been
absent without tears in her eyes. Miss Crawford civilly wished him an
early promotion.</p>
<p>"Do you know anything of my cousin's captain?" said Edmund; "Captain
Marshall? You have a large acquaintance in the navy, I conclude?"</p>
<p>"Among admirals, large enough; but," with an air of grandeur, "we know
very little of the inferior ranks. Post-captains may be very good sort of
men, but they do not belong to <i>us</i>. Of various admirals I could tell
you a great deal: of them and their flags, and the gradation of their pay,
and their bickerings and jealousies. But, in general, I can assure you
that they are all passed over, and all very ill used. Certainly, my home
at my uncle's brought me acquainted with a circle of admirals. Of <i>Rears</i>
and <i>Vices</i> I saw enough. Now do not be suspecting me of a pun, I
entreat."</p>
<p>Edmund again felt grave, and only replied, "It is a noble profession."</p>
<p>"Yes, the profession is well enough under two circumstances: if it make
the fortune, and there be discretion in spending it; but, in short, it is
not a favourite profession of mine. It has never worn an amiable form to
<i>me</i>."</p>
<p>Edmund reverted to the harp, and was again very happy in the prospect of
hearing her play.</p>
<p>The subject of improving grounds, meanwhile, was still under consideration
among the others; and Mrs. Grant could not help addressing her brother,
though it was calling his attention from Miss Julia Bertram.</p>
<p>"My dear Henry, have <i>you</i> nothing to say? You have been an improver
yourself, and from what I hear of Everingham, it may vie with any place in
England. Its natural beauties, I am sure, are great. Everingham, as it <i>used</i>
to be, was perfect in my estimation: such a happy fall of ground, and such
timber! What would I not give to see it again?"</p>
<p>"Nothing could be so gratifying to me as to hear your opinion of it," was
his answer; "but I fear there would be some disappointment: you would not
find it equal to your present ideas. In extent, it is a mere nothing; you
would be surprised at its insignificance; and, as for improvement, there
was very little for me to do—too little: I should like to have been
busy much longer."</p>
<p>"You are fond of the sort of thing?" said Julia.</p>
<p>"Excessively; but what with the natural advantages of the ground, which
pointed out, even to a very young eye, what little remained to be done,
and my own consequent resolutions, I had not been of age three months
before Everingham was all that it is now. My plan was laid at Westminster,
a little altered, perhaps, at Cambridge, and at one-and-twenty executed. I
am inclined to envy Mr. Rushworth for having so much happiness yet before
him. I have been a devourer of my own."</p>
<p>"Those who see quickly, will resolve quickly, and act quickly," said
Julia. "<i>You</i> can never want employment. Instead of envying Mr.
Rushworth, you should assist him with your opinion."</p>
<p>Mrs. Grant, hearing the latter part of this speech, enforced it warmly,
persuaded that no judgment could be equal to her brother's; and as Miss
Bertram caught at the idea likewise, and gave it her full support,
declaring that, in her opinion, it was infinitely better to consult with
friends and disinterested advisers, than immediately to throw the business
into the hands of a professional man, Mr. Rushworth was very ready to
request the favour of Mr. Crawford's assistance; and Mr. Crawford, after
properly depreciating his own abilities, was quite at his service in any
way that could be useful. Mr. Rushworth then began to propose Mr.
Crawford's doing him the honour of coming over to Sotherton, and taking a
bed there; when Mrs. Norris, as if reading in her two nieces' minds their
little approbation of a plan which was to take Mr. Crawford away,
interposed with an amendment.</p>
<p>"There can be no doubt of Mr. Crawford's willingness; but why should not
more of us go? Why should not we make a little party? Here are many that
would be interested in your improvements, my dear Mr. Rushworth, and that
would like to hear Mr. Crawford's opinion on the spot, and that might be
of some small use to you with <i>their</i> opinions; and, for my own part,
I have been long wishing to wait upon your good mother again; nothing but
having no horses of my own could have made me so remiss; but now I could
go and sit a few hours with Mrs. Rushworth, while the rest of you walked
about and settled things, and then we could all return to a late dinner
here, or dine at Sotherton, just as might be most agreeable to your
mother, and have a pleasant drive home by moonlight. I dare say Mr.
Crawford would take my two nieces and me in his barouche, and Edmund can
go on horseback, you know, sister, and Fanny will stay at home with you."</p>
<p>Lady Bertram made no objection; and every one concerned in the going was
forward in expressing their ready concurrence, excepting Edmund, who heard
it all and said nothing.</p>
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