feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/Sense and Sensibility/section_1_part_9.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapter 19
feat_summary_id: chapter 19
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 19", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210419170735/https://www.gradesaver.com/sense-and-sensibility/study-guide/summary-chapters-11-20", "summary": "Edward stays with them for a week, and has a much better time there than at Norland or in London; still, he rejects Mrs. Dashwood's invitation to stay longer, since he feels he must leave. Edward laments that he has no occupation to take up his time, and again shows that he is unhappy in his current state. He takes his leave shortly after, and his unhappiness pains Elinor; she wishes he could be helped out of it, but is also hurt that his old affection seems to have been shaken. Elinor does not wallow in her grief at this, but busies herself about the house and tries not to appear disturbed. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings come to the cottage to introduce Mrs. Jennings' other daughter, Mrs. Palmer, and her husband to the family. Mrs. Palmer is much like her mother, very merry and chatty, whereas her husband is completely silent and not sociable at all. The girls are invited up to the house to dine with the party, though they expect no great joy in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer; still, they have to accept, as Sir John is a gracious host and they can't possibly refuse him.", "analysis": "Marianne and Elinor are again shown to be foils in their responses to misfortune in their love lives; Elinor does the opposite of Marianne, keeping herself from feeling too much grief, and distracts herself by taking up other activities. However, Elinor's good sense and discipline does not mean that she feels any less than Marianne does, just that she expresses and conducts herself differently. This chapter shows a certain confrontation between the gossipy mirth of Mrs. Jennings and her daughter, and the propriety, and perhaps even unsociability, shown by Lady Middleton and Mr. Palmer. Manners throughout the party vary, and this makes the society that they form somewhat uneasy, and a little unpleasant, for Elinor and Marianne. Still, the girls are powerless to defy the rules of hospitality, as their indebtedness to the graciousness of Sir John means that they are obliged to accept his invitations, whether they wish to or not"}
text: 
  
  Edward remained a week at the cottage; he was earnestly pressed by Mrs.
  Dashwood to stay longer; but, as if he were bent only on
  self-mortification, he seemed resolved to be gone when his enjoyment
  among his friends was at the height.  His spirits, during the last two
  or three days, though still very unequal, were greatly improved--he
  grew more and more partial to the house and environs--never spoke of
  going away without a sigh--declared his time to be wholly
  disengaged--even doubted to what place he should go when he left
  them--but still, go he must.  Never had any week passed so quickly--he
  could hardly believe it to be gone.  He said so repeatedly; other
  things he said too, which marked the turn of his feelings and gave the
  lie to his actions.  He had no pleasure at Norland; he detested being
  in town; but either to Norland or London, he must go.  He valued their
  kindness beyond any thing, and his greatest happiness was in being with
  them.  Yet, he must leave them at the end of a week, in spite of their
  wishes and his own, and without any restraint on his time.
  
  Elinor placed all that was astonishing in this way of acting to his
  mother's account; and it was happy for her that he had a mother whose
  character was so imperfectly known to her, as to be the general excuse
  for every thing strange on the part of her son.  Disappointed, however,
  and vexed as she was, and sometimes displeased with his uncertain
  behaviour to herself, she was very well disposed on the whole to regard
  his actions with all the candid allowances and generous qualifications,
  which had been rather more painfully extorted from her, for
  Willoughby's service, by her mother.  His want of spirits, of openness,
  and of consistency, were most usually attributed to his want of
  independence, and his better knowledge of Mrs. Ferrars's disposition
  and designs.  The shortness of his visit, the steadiness of his purpose
  in leaving them, originated in the same fettered inclination, the same
  inevitable necessity of temporizing with his mother.  The old
  well-established grievance of duty against will, parent against child,
  was the cause of all.  She would have been glad to know when these
  difficulties were to cease, this opposition was to yield,--when Mrs.
  Ferrars would be reformed, and her son be at liberty to be happy.  But
  from such vain wishes she was forced to turn for comfort to the renewal
  of her confidence in Edward's affection, to the remembrance of every
  mark of regard in look or word which fell from him while at Barton, and
  above all to that flattering proof of it which he constantly wore round
  his finger.
  
  "I think, Edward," said Mrs. Dashwood, as they were at breakfast the
  last morning, "you would be a happier man if you had any profession to
  engage your time and give an interest to your plans and actions.  Some
  inconvenience to your friends, indeed, might result from it--you would
  not be able to give them so much of your time.  But (with a smile) you
  would be materially benefited in one particular at least--you would
  know where to go when you left them."
  
  "I do assure you," he replied, "that I have long thought on this point,
  as you think now.  It has been, and is, and probably will always be a
  heavy misfortune to me, that I have had no necessary business to engage
  me, no profession to give me employment, or afford me any thing like
  independence.  But unfortunately my own nicety, and the nicety of my
  friends, have made me what I am, an idle, helpless being.  We never
  could agree in our choice of a profession.  I always preferred the
  church, as I still do.  But that was not smart enough for my family.
  They recommended the army.  That was a great deal too smart for me.
  The law was allowed to be genteel enough; many young men, who had
  chambers in the Temple, made a very good appearance in the first
  circles, and drove about town in very knowing gigs.  But I had no
  inclination for the law, even in this less abstruse study of it, which
  my family approved.  As for the navy, it had fashion on its side, but I
  was too old when the subject was first started to enter it--and, at
  length, as there was no necessity for my having any profession at all,
  as I might be as dashing and expensive without a red coat on my back as
  with one, idleness was pronounced on the whole to be most advantageous
  and honourable, and a young man of eighteen is not in general so
  earnestly bent on being busy as to resist the solicitations of his
  friends to do nothing.  I was therefore entered at Oxford and have been
  properly idle ever since."
  
  "The consequence of which, I suppose, will be," said Mrs. Dashwood,
  "since leisure has not promoted your own happiness, that your sons will
  be brought up to as many pursuits, employments, professions, and trades
  as Columella's."
  
  "They will be brought up," said he, in a serious accent, "to be as
  unlike myself as is possible.  In feeling, in action, in condition, in
  every thing."
  
  "Come, come; this is all an effusion of immediate want of spirits,
  Edward.  You are in a melancholy humour, and fancy that any one unlike
  yourself must be happy.  But remember that the pain of parting from
  friends will be felt by every body at times, whatever be their
  education or state.  Know your own happiness.  You want nothing but
  patience--or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope.  Your
  mother will secure to you, in time, that independence you are so
  anxious for; it is her duty, and it will, it must ere long become her
  happiness to prevent your whole youth from being wasted in discontent.
  How much may not a few months do?"
  
  "I think," replied Edward, "that I may defy many months to produce any
  good to me."
  
  This desponding turn of mind, though it could not be communicated to
  Mrs. Dashwood, gave additional pain to them all in the parting, which
  shortly took place, and left an uncomfortable impression on Elinor's
  feelings especially, which required some trouble and time to subdue.
  But as it was her determination to subdue it, and to prevent herself
  from appearing to suffer more than what all her family suffered on his
  going away, she did not adopt the method so judiciously employed by
  Marianne, on a similar occasion, to augment and fix her sorrow, by
  seeking silence, solitude and idleness.  Their means were as different
  as their objects, and equally suited to the advancement of each.
  
  Elinor sat down to her drawing-table as soon as he was out of the
  house, busily employed herself the whole day, neither sought nor
  avoided the mention of his name, appeared to interest herself almost as
  much as ever in the general concerns of the family, and if, by this
  conduct, she did not lessen her own grief, it was at least prevented
  from unnecessary increase, and her mother and sisters were spared much
  solicitude on her account.
  
  Such behaviour as this, so exactly the reverse of her own, appeared no
  more meritorious to Marianne, than her own had seemed faulty to her.
  The business of self-command she settled very easily;--with strong
  affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have no merit.
  That her sister's affections WERE calm, she dared not deny, though she
  blushed to acknowledge it; and of the strength of her own, she gave a
  very striking proof, by still loving and respecting that sister, in
  spite of this mortifying conviction.
  
  Without shutting herself up from her family, or leaving the house in
  determined solitude to avoid them, or lying awake the whole night to
  indulge meditation, Elinor found every day afforded her leisure enough
  to think of Edward, and of Edward's behaviour, in every possible
  variety which the different state of her spirits at different times
  could produce,--with tenderness, pity, approbation, censure, and doubt.
  There were moments in abundance, when, if not by the absence of her
  mother and sisters, at least by the nature of their employments,
  conversation was forbidden among them, and every effect of solitude was
  produced.  Her mind was inevitably at liberty; her thoughts could not
  be chained elsewhere; and the past and the future, on a subject so
  interesting, must be before her, must force her attention, and engross
  her memory, her reflection, and her fancy.
  
  From a reverie of this kind, as she sat at her drawing-table, she was
  roused one morning, soon after Edward's leaving them, by the arrival of
  company.  She happened to be quite alone.  The closing of the little
  gate, at the entrance of the green court in front of the house, drew
  her eyes to the window, and she saw a large party walking up to the
  door.  Amongst them were Sir John and Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings,
  but there were two others, a gentleman and lady, who were quite unknown
  to her.  She was sitting near the window, and as soon as Sir John
  perceived her, he left the rest of the party to the ceremony of
  knocking at the door, and stepping across the turf, obliged her to open
  the casement to speak to him, though the space was so short between the
  door and the window, as to make it hardly possible to speak at one
  without being heard at the other.
  
  "Well," said he, "we have brought you some strangers.  How do you like
  them?"
  
  "Hush! they will hear you."
  
  "Never mind if they do.  It is only the Palmers.  Charlotte is very
  pretty, I can tell you.  You may see her if you look this way."
  
  As Elinor was certain of seeing her in a couple of minutes, without
  taking that liberty, she begged to be excused.
  
  "Where is Marianne? Has she run away because we are come? I see her
  instrument is open."
  
  "She is walking, I believe."
  
  They were now joined by Mrs. Jennings, who had not patience enough to
  wait till the door was opened before she told HER story.  She came
  hallooing to the window, "How do you do, my dear?  How does Mrs.
  Dashwood do?  And where are your sisters?  What! all alone! you will be
  glad of a little company to sit with you.  I have brought my other son
  and daughter to see you.  Only think of their coming so suddenly!  I
  thought I heard a carriage last night, while we were drinking our tea,
  but it never entered my head that it could be them.  I thought of
  nothing but whether it might not be Colonel Brandon come back again; so
  I said to Sir John, I do think I hear a carriage; perhaps it is Colonel
  Brandon come back again"--
  
  Elinor was obliged to turn from her, in the middle of her story, to
  receive the rest of the party; Lady Middleton introduced the two
  strangers; Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret came down stairs at the same
  time, and they all sat down to look at one another, while Mrs. Jennings
  continued her story as she walked through the passage into the parlour,
  attended by Sir John.
  
  Mrs. Palmer was several years younger than Lady Middleton, and totally
  unlike her in every respect.  She was short and plump, had a very
  pretty face, and the finest expression of good humour in it that could
  possibly be.  Her manners were by no means so elegant as her sister's,
  but they were much more prepossessing.  She came in with a smile,
  smiled all the time of her visit, except when she laughed, and smiled
  when she went away.  Her husband was a grave looking young man of five
  or six and twenty, with an air of more fashion and sense than his wife,
  but of less willingness to please or be pleased.  He entered the room
  with a look of self-consequence, slightly bowed to the ladies, without
  speaking a word, and, after briefly surveying them and their
  apartments, took up a newspaper from the table, and continued to read
  it as long as he staid.
  
  Mrs. Palmer, on the contrary, who was strongly endowed by nature with a
  turn for being uniformly civil and happy, was hardly seated before her
  admiration of the parlour and every thing in it burst forth.
  
  "Well! what a delightful room this is! I never saw anything so
  charming!  Only think, Mama, how it is improved since I was here last!
  I always thought it such a sweet place, ma'am! (turning to Mrs.
  Dashwood) but you have made it so charming!  Only look, sister, how
  delightful every thing is! How I should like such a house for myself!
  Should not you, Mr. Palmer?"
  
  Mr. Palmer made her no answer, and did not even raise his eyes from the
  newspaper.
  
  "Mr. Palmer does not hear me," said she, laughing; "he never does
  sometimes.  It is so ridiculous!"
  
  This was quite a new idea to Mrs. Dashwood; she had never been used to
  find wit in the inattention of any one, and could not help looking with
  surprise at them both.
  
  Mrs. Jennings, in the meantime, talked on as loud as she could, and
  continued her account of their surprise, the evening before, on seeing
  their friends, without ceasing till every thing was told.  Mrs. Palmer
  laughed heartily at the recollection of their astonishment, and every
  body agreed, two or three times over, that it had been quite an
  agreeable surprise.
  
  "You may believe how glad we all were to see them," added Mrs.
  Jennings, leaning forward towards Elinor, and speaking in a low voice
  as if she meant to be heard by no one else, though they were seated on
  different sides of the room; "but, however, I can't help wishing they
  had not travelled quite so fast, nor made such a long journey of it,
  for they came all round by London upon account of some business, for
  you know (nodding significantly and pointing to her daughter) it was
  wrong in her situation.  I wanted her to stay at home and rest this
  morning, but she would come with us; she longed so much to see you all!"
  
  Mrs. Palmer laughed, and said it would not do her any harm.
  
  "She expects to be confined in February," continued Mrs. Jennings.
  
  Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation, and
  therefore exerted herself to ask Mr. Palmer if there was any news in
  the paper.
  
  "No, none at all," he replied, and read on.
  
  "Here comes Marianne," cried Sir John.  "Now, Palmer, you shall see a
  monstrous pretty girl."
  
  He immediately went into the passage, opened the front door, and
  ushered her in himself.  Mrs. Jennings asked her, as soon as she
  appeared, if she had not been to Allenham; and Mrs. Palmer laughed so
  heartily at the question, as to show she understood it.  Mr. Palmer
  looked up on her entering the room, stared at her some minutes, and
  then returned to his newspaper.  Mrs. Palmer's eye was now caught by
  the drawings which hung round the room.  She got up to examine them.
  
  "Oh! dear, how beautiful these are!  Well! how delightful!  Do but
  look, mama, how sweet! I declare they are quite charming; I could look
  at them for ever." And then sitting down again, she very soon forgot
  that there were any such things in the room.
  
  When Lady Middleton rose to go away, Mr. Palmer rose also, laid down
  the newspaper, stretched himself and looked at them all around.
  
  "My love, have you been asleep?" said his wife, laughing.
  
  He made her no answer; and only observed, after again examining the
  room, that it was very low pitched, and that the ceiling was crooked.
  He then made his bow, and departed with the rest.
  
  Sir John had been very urgent with them all to spend the next day at
  the park.  Mrs. Dashwood, who did not chuse to dine with them oftener
  than they dined at the cottage, absolutely refused on her own account;
  her daughters might do as they pleased.  But they had no curiosity to
  see how Mr. and Mrs. Palmer ate their dinner, and no expectation of
  pleasure from them in any other way.  They attempted, therefore,
  likewise, to excuse themselves; the weather was uncertain, and not
  likely to be good.  But Sir John would not be satisfied--the carriage
  should be sent for them and they must come.  Lady Middleton too, though
  she did not press their mother, pressed them.  Mrs. Jennings and Mrs.
  Palmer joined their entreaties, all seemed equally anxious to avoid a
  family party; and the young ladies were obliged to yield.
  
  "Why should they ask us?" said Marianne, as soon as they were gone.
  "The rent of this cottage is said to be low; but we have it on very
  hard terms, if we are to dine at the park whenever any one is staying
  either with them, or with us."
  
  "They mean no less to be civil and kind to us now," said Elinor, "by
  these frequent invitations, than by those which we received from them a
  few weeks ago.  The alteration is not in them, if their parties are
  grown tedious and dull.  We must look for the change elsewhere."
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 19
target: Edward stays with them for a week, and has a much better time there than at Norland or in London; still, he rejects Mrs. Dashwood's invitation to stay longer, since he feels he must leave. Edward laments that he has no occupation to take up his time, and again shows that he is unhappy in his current state. He takes his leave shortly after, and his unhappiness pains Elinor; she wishes he could be helped out of it, but is also hurt that his old affection seems to have been shaken. Elinor does not wallow in her grief at this, but busies herself about the house and tries not to appear disturbed. Sir John and Mrs. Jennings come to the cottage to introduce Mrs. Jennings' other daughter, Mrs. Palmer, and her husband to the family. Mrs. Palmer is much like her mother, very merry and chatty, whereas her husband is completely silent and not sociable at all. The girls are invited up to the house to dine with the party, though they expect no great joy in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer; still, they have to accept, as Sir John is a gracious host and they can't possibly refuse him.
feat_summary_analysis: Marianne and Elinor are again shown to be foils in their responses to misfortune in their love lives; Elinor does the opposite of Marianne, keeping herself from feeling too much grief, and distracts herself by taking up other activities. However, Elinor's good sense and discipline does not mean that she feels any less than Marianne does, just that she expresses and conducts herself differently. This chapter shows a certain confrontation between the gossipy mirth of Mrs. Jennings and her daughter, and the propriety, and perhaps even unsociability, shown by Lady Middleton and Mr. Palmer. Manners throughout the party vary, and this makes the society that they form somewhat uneasy, and a little unpleasant, for Elinor and Marianne. Still, the girls are powerless to defy the rules of hospitality, as their indebtedness to the graciousness of Sir John means that they are obliged to accept his invitations, whether they wish to or not