His own stomach
could bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people
to be different from himself. What was unwholesome to him he
regarded as unfit for anybody; and he had, therefore, earnestly
tried to dissuade them from having any wedding-cake at all, and
when that proved vain, as earnestly tried to prevent anybody's
eating it. He had been at pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the
apothecary, on the subject. Mr. Perry was an intelligent, gentlemanlike
man, whose frequent visits were one of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse's
life; and, upon being applied to, he could not but acknowledge
(though it seemed rather against the bias of inclination) that
wedding-cake might certainly disagree with many - perhaps with
most people, unless taken moderately. With such an opinion, in
confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence every
visitor of the newly-married pair; but still the cake was eaten;
and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all
gone. -
Chapter 1
Mr. Woodhouse
was fond of society in his own way. He liked very much to have
his friends come and see him; and from various united causes,
from his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, his
fortune, his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits
of his own little circle, in a great measure, as he liked. He
had not much intercourse with any families beyond that circle;
his horror of late hours, and large dinner-parties, made him
unfit for any acquaintance but such as would visit him on his
own terms. /.../ Not unfrequently, through Emma's persuasion,
he had some of the chosen and best to dine with him: but evening
parties were what he preferred; and unless he fancied himself
at any time unequal to company, there was scarcely an evening
in the week in which Emma could not make up a card-table for
him.
- Chapter 3
Upon such occasions
poor Mr. Woodhouse's feelings were in sad warfare. He loved to
have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion in his youth,
but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome made him
rather sorry to see anything put on it; and while his hospitality
would have welcomed his visitors to everything, his care for
their health made him grieve if they would eat. Such another
small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he could, with
thorough self-approbation, recommend... - Chapter 3
...and Isabella,
the usual doer of all commissions, must not be applied to because
it was December, and Mr. Woodhouse could not bear the idea of
her stirring out of her house in the fogs of December. - Chapter 6
She read it to
him, just as he liked to have anything read, slowly and distinctly,
and two or three times over, with explanations of every part
as she proceeded... -
Chapter 9
...who (Mr. Woodhouse)
could not be induced to get so far as London, even for poor Isabella's
sake; and who, consequently, was now most nervously and apprehensively
happy in forestalling this too short visit. He thought much of
the evils of the journey for her, and not a little of the fatigues
of his own horses and coachman, who were to bring some of the
party the last half of the way...the bustle and joy of such an
arrival, the many talked to, welcomed, encouraged, and variously
dispersed and disposed of, produced a noise and confusion which
his nerves could not have borne under any other cause, nor have
endured much longer even for this... - Chapter 11
After a little
more discourse in praise of gruel, with some wondering at its
not being taken by everybody /.../ the gruel came, and supplied
a great deal to be said - and much praise and many comments -
undoubting decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution,
and pretty severe philippics upon the many houses where it was
never met with tolerable... - Chapter 12
Mr Woodhouse
was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his friend Perry,
to whom he had in fact, though unconsciously, been attributing
many of his own feelings and expressions; but the soothing attentions
of his daughters gradually removed the present evil... - Chapter 12
Mr. Weston would
take no denial; they must all dine at Randalls one day;--even
Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded to think it a possible thing in preference
to a division of the party. How they were all to be conveyed,
he would have made a difficulty if he could, but as his son and
daughter's carriage and horses were actually at Hartfield, he
was not able to make more than a simple question on that head;
it hardly amounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Emma long to
convince him that they might in one of the carriages find room
for Harriet also. Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their
own especial set, were the only persons invited to meet them;--the
hours were to be early, as well as the numbers few; Mr. Woodhouse's
habits and inclination being consulted in every thing. - Chapter 13
Mr. Woodhouse
had so completely made up his mind to the visit, that in spite
of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea of shrinking
from it, and set forward at last most punctually with his eldest
daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent consciousness
of the weather than either of the others; too full of the wonder
of his own going, and the pleasure it was to afford at Randalls
to see that it was cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it. - Chapter 13
Mr. Woodhouse
very soon followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting
long after dinner, was a confinement that he could not endure.
Neither wine nor conversation was any thing to him; and gladly
did he move to those with whom he was always comfortable. - Chapter 14
Mr. Woodhouse
was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his tea he
was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his three companions
could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of the
hour, before the other gentlemen appeared. - Chapter 15
To Isabella,
the relief of such tidings was very great, and they were scarcely
less acceptable to Emma on her father's account, who was immediately
set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous constitution
allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be appeased
so as to admit of any comfort for him while he continued at Randalls.
He was satisfied of there being no present danger in returning
home, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe to
stay. /.../ The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the
first object on such occasions, was carefully attended to his
own by Mr. Knightley and Mr. Weston; but not all that either
could say could prevent some renewal of alarm at the sight of
the snow which had actually fallen, and the discovery of a much
darker night than he had been prepared for. He was afraid they
should have a very bad drive. He was afraid poor Isabella would
not like it. And there would be poor Emma in the carriage behind.
He did not know what they had best do. They must keep as much
together as they could; and James was talked to, and given a
charge to go very slow and wait for the other carriage. - Chapter 15
Her own father's
perfect exemption from any thought of the kind, the entire deficiency
in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion, was a most
comfortable circumstance. Happily, he was not further from approving
matrimony than from foretelling it. Though always objecting to
every marriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand
from the apprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think
so ill of any two persons' understanding as to suppose them meant
to marry till it were proved against them. - Chapter 23
...and it being
chiefly settled among themselves how it might be done without
neglecting his comfort - how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs.
Bates, might be depended on for bearing him company - Mr. Woodhouse
was to be talked into acquiescence of his daughter's going out
to dinner on a day now near at hand, and spending the whole evening
away from him. As for his going, Emma did not wish him to think
it possible; the hours would be too late, and the party too numerous.
He was soon pretty well resigned. - Chapter 25
He did, on the
condition of some promises on her side; such as that, if she
came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly;
if hungry, she would take something to eat; and that her own
maid should sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should
see that everything were safe in the house as usual. - Chapter 25
No, he thought
it very 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. - Chapter 29
Her father's
feelings were quite distinct. He thought principally of Mrs.
Churchill's illness, and wanted to know how she was treated;
and as for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed;
but they would all be safer at home. - Chapter 30
Mr. Woodhouse
considered eight persons at dinner together as the utmost his
nerves could bear...
- Chapter 34
Her attention
was now claimed by Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his
custom on such occasions, making the circle of his guests, and
paying particular compliments to the ladies /.../ the kind-hearted,
polite old man might then sit down and feel that he had done
his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy. - Chapter 34
Poor Mr. Woodhouse
trembled as he sat, and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely
be satisfied without their promising never to go beyond the shrubbery
again. It was some comfort to him that many inquiries after himself
and Miss Woodhouse (for his neighbours knew that he loved to
be inquired after), as well as Miss Smith, were coming in during
the rest of the day; and he had the pleasure of returning for
answer, that they were all indifferent; which, though not exactly
true, for she was perfectly well, and Harriet not much otherwise,
Emma would not interfere with. She had an unhappy state of health
in general for the child of such a man, for she hardly knew what
indisposition was and if he did not invent illnesses for her,
she would make no figure in the message. - Chapter 39
The quietness
of the game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse,
who had often been distressed by the more animated sort, which
Mr. Weston had occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily
occupied in lamenting, with tender melancholy, over the departure
of the 'poor little boys,' or in fondly pointing out, as he took
up any stray letter, how beautifully Emma had written it. - Chapter 41
He did consent.
He had not been at Donwell for two years. Some fine morning,
he, Emma, and Harriet could go very well; and he could sit with
Mrs. Weston while the dear girls walked about the gardens. He
did not suppose they could be damp now, in the middle of the
day. He should like to see the old house again exceedingly, and
should be happy to meet Mr. and Mrs. Elton, and any other of
his neighbours. He could not see any objection at all to this,
and Emma's, and Harriet's going there some very fine morning.
He thought it very well done of Mr. Knightley to invited them;
very kind and sensible; much cleverer than dining out. He was
not fond of dining out. /.../ Under a bright mid-day sun, at
almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhouse was safely conveyed in his carriage,
with one window down, to partake of this al fresco party; and
in one of the most comfortable rooms in the Abbey, especially
prepared for him by a fire all the morning, he was happily placed,
quite at his ease, ready to talk with pleasure of what had been
achieved, and advise everybody to come and sit down, and not
to heat themselves." - Chapter 42
Mr. Woodhouse,
who had already taken his little round in the highest part of
the gardens, where no damps from the river were imagined even
by him, stirred no more... - Chapter 42
...fortunate
in having no other resemblance to a child, than in total want
of taste for what he saw, for he was slow, constant, and methodical.
- Chapter
42
In the hope of
diverting her father's thoughts from the disagreeableness of
Mr. Knightley's going to London, and going so suddenly, and going
on horseback, which she knew would be all very bad, Emma communicated
the news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence on the effect was
justified; it supplied a very useful check - interested, without
disturbing him. He had long made up his mind to Jane Fairfax's
going out as a governess, and could talk of it cheerfully, but
Mr. Knightley's going to London had been an unexpected blow.
- Chapter
45
The weather affected
Mr. Woodhouse; and he could only be kept tolerably comfortable
by almost ceaseless attention his daughter's side... - Chapter 48
Poor Mr. Woodhouse
little suspected what was plotting against him in the breast
of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and so anxiously
hoping might not have taken cold from his ride. Could he have
seen the heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs:
but without the most distant imagination of the impending evil,
without the slightest perception of anything extraordinary, in
the looks or ways of either, he repeated to them very comfortably
all the articles of news he had received from Mr. Perry, and
talked on with much self-contentment, totally unsuspicious of
what they could have told him in return. - Chapter 50
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." Chapter 54
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-- evidently by the ingenuity of man.
Other poultry-yards in the neighbourhood also suffered.--Pilfering
was housebreaking 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 strength,
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. - Chapter 55
