Barton Park was about half a mile from the
cottage. The ladies had
passed near it in their way along the valley, but it was screened from
their view at home by the projection of a hill. The house was large
and handsome; and the Middletons lived in a style of equal
hospitality
and
elegance. The former was for Sir John's gratification, the
latter for that of his lady. There were scarcely ever without some
friends staying with them in the house, and they kept more company
of every kind than any other family in the neighbourhood. It was
necessary to the happiness of both; for however
dissimilar in temper
and outward behaviour, they strongly resembled each other in that
total want of talent and taste which confined their employments,
unconnected with such as society produced, within a very narrow pass. Sir
John was a
sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother. He hunted and shot, and
she humoured her children; and these were their only resources. Lady
Middleton had the advantage of being able to spoil her children all
the year round, while Sir John's independent employments were in
existence only half the time. Continual engagements at home and
abroad, however, supplied all the
deficiencies of nature and
education; supported the good spirits of Sir John, and gave exercise
to the good breeding of his wife.
Lady Middleton piqued herself upon the elegance of her table,
and of all her domestic arrangements; and from this kind of vanity was
her greatest enjoyment in any of their parties. But Sir John's
satisfaction in society was much more real; he delighted in collecting
about him more young people than his house would hold, and the noisier
they were the better was he pleased. He was a blessing to all the
juvenile part of the neighbourhood; for in summer he was for ever
forming parties to eat cold ham and chicken out of doors, and in
winter his private balls were numerous enough for any young lady who
was not suffering under the unsatiable appetite of fifteen.
The arrival of a new family in the country was always a matter
of joy to him; and in every point of view he was charmed with the
inhabitants he had now procured for his cottage at Barton. The
Misses Dashwood were young, pretty, and unaffected. It was enough to
secure his good opinion; for to be unaffected was all that a pretty
girl could want to make her mind as captivating as her person. The
friendliness of his disposition made him happy in accommodating those,
whose situation might be considered, in comparison with the past, as
unfortunate. In showing kindness to his cousins, therefore, he had the
real satisfaction of a good heart; and in settling a family of females
only in his cottage, he had all the satisfaction of a sportsman; for a
sportsman, though he esteems only those of his sex who are sportsmen
likewise, is not often desirous of encouraging their taste by
admitting them to a residence within his own manor.
Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters were met at the door of the
house by Sir John, who welcomed them to Barton Park with unaffected
sincerity; and as he attended them to the drawingroom repeated to
the young ladies the concern which the same subject had drawn from him
the day before, at being unable to get any smart young men to meet
them. They would see, he said, only one gentleman there besides
himself; a particular friend who was staying at the Park, but who
was neither very young nor very gay. He hoped they would all excuse
the smallness of the party, and could assure them it should never
happen so again. He had been to several families that morning, in
hopes of procuring some addition to their number, but it was
moonlight, and every body was full of engagements. Luckily Lady
Middleton's mother had arrived at Barton within the last hour; and
as she was a very cheerful, agreeable woman, be hoped the young ladies
would not find it so very dull as they might imagine. The young
ladies, as well as their mother, were perfectly satisfied with
having two entire strangers of the party, and wished for no more.
Mrs. Jennings, Lady Middleton's mother, was a good-humoured,
merry, fat, elderly woman, who talked a great deal, seemed very happy,
and rather vulgar. She was full of jokes and laughter, and before
dinner was over, had said many witty things on the subject of lovers
and husbands; hoped they had not left their hearts behind them in
Sussex, and pretended to see them blush whether they did or not.
Marianne was vexed at it for her sister's sake, and turned her eyes
towards Elinor to see how she bore these attacks, with an
earnestness which gave Elinor far more pain than could arise from such
common-place raillery as Mrs. Jennings's.
Colonel Brandon, the friend of Sir John, seemed no more adapted by
resemblance of manner to be his friend, than Lady Middleton was to
be his wife, or Mrs. Jennings to be Lady Middleton's mother. He was
silent and grave. His appearance, however, was not unpleasing, in
spite of his being, in the opinion of Marianne and Margaret, an
absolute old bachelor, for he was on the wrong side of
five-and-thirty; but though his face was not handsome, his countenance
was sensible, and his address was particularly gentlemanlike.
There was nothing in any of the party which could recommend them
as companions to the Dashwoods; but the cold insipidity of Lady
Middleton was so particularly repulsive, that in comparison of it
the gravity of Colonel Brandon, and even the boisterous mirth of Sir
John and his mother-in-law, was interesting. Lady Middleton seemed
to be roused to enjoyment only by the entrance of her four noisy
children after dinner, who pulled her about, tore her clothes, and put
an end to every kind of discourse except what related to themselves.
In the evening, as Marianne was discovered to be musical, she
was invited to play. The instrument was unlocked, every body
prepared to be charmed, and Marianne, who sang very well, at their
request went through the chief of the songs which Lady Middleton had
brought into the family on her marriage, and which, perhaps, had
lain ever since in the same position on the piano-forte; for her
ladyship had celebrated that event by giving up music, although, by
her mother's account, she had played extremely well, and by her own
was very fond of it.
Marianne's performance was highly applauded. Sir John was loud
in his admiration at the end of every song, and as loud in his
conversation with the others while every song lasted. Lady Middleton
frequently called him to order, wondered how any one's attention could
be diverted from music for a moment, and asked Marianne to sing a
particular song which Marianne had just finished. Colonel Brandon
alone, of all the party, heard her without being in raptures. He
paid her only the compliment of attention; and she felt a respect
for him on the occasion, which the others had reasonably forfeited
by their shameless want of taste. His pleasure in music, though it
amounted not to that ecstatic delight which alone could sympathise
with her own, was estimable when contrasted against the horrible
insensibility of the others; and she was reasonable enough to allow
that a man of five-and-thirty might well have outlived all acuteness
of feeling, and every exquisite power of enjoyment. She was
perfectly disposed to make every allowance for the colonel's
advanced state of life which humanity required.
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