Larger Font   Reset Font Size   Smaller Font  

Jane Austen's Mansfield Park: Abridged

Emma Laybourn




  JANE AUSTEN’S MANSFIELD PARK: ABRIDGED

  Edited by Emma Laybourn

  Copyright 2013 Emma Laybourn

  Preface

  This edition of Mansfield Park has been shortened to about two-thirds of its original length, the aim being to preserve the character of the book as far as possible whilst making it more easily approachable. It is designed for those who wish to read Jane Austen but are daunted by the length and density of the full text.

  Although there is little in Jane Austen’s writing that is superfluous, this version omits that material which it is hoped will cause least damage to the sense and feeling of the book. No scenes have been removed: however, many sentences have been simplified, and some obscure or ambiguous words have been changed to make the meaning clearer. A very few spellings have been modernised (notably “choose” for “chuse” and “show” for “shew”); and some new paragraph breaks have been introduced.

  If you are studying Mansfield Park as a set text and thinking of using this book as an easier option than the original, please think again. You will miss many of Jane Austen’s subtleties, and be at high risk of misquotation. The unabridged book may be downloaded free from Project Gutenberg, whose copy of the 1814 edition was the source text for this version.

  Emma Laybourn

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 1

  About thirty years ago Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with a handsome house and large income. She had two sisters to benefit from her elevation; but while Miss Ward and Miss Frances were thought to be quite as handsome as Miss Maria, there are not so many rich men in the world as there are pretty women to deserve them. Miss Ward, after half a dozen years, found herself obliged to be married to the Rev. Mr. Norris, a friend of her brother-in-law, with scarcely any private fortune, and Miss Frances fared yet worse.

  Miss Ward's match was not contemptible: Sir Thomas was happily able to give his friend an income in the living of Mansfield. But Miss Frances married, as they say, to disoblige her family, and by fixing on a lieutenant of marines, without education, fortune, or connexions, did it very thoroughly.

  Sir Thomas Bertram, having a general wish of doing right, and a desire of seeing those connected with him respectably situated, would have gladly used his influence for Lady Bertram's sister; but her husband's profession was such as no influence could reach. Before he could devise any method of assisting them, an absolute breach between the sisters had taken place.

  It was such as a very imprudent marriage almost always produces. To save herself from remonstrance, Mrs. Price never wrote to her family about her marriage till actually married. Lady Bertram, a woman of tranquil feelings and an easy temper, would have contented herself with merely giving up her sister, and thinking no more of it; but Mrs. Norris could not be satisfied till she had written a long and angry letter to Fanny, to point out the folly of her conduct.

  Mrs. Price, in her turn, was injured and angry; and her bitter, disrespectful answer, which Mrs. Norris could not possibly keep to herself, put an end to all intercourse between them for a long period. They hardly heard of each other during the next eleven years; and Sir Thomas was surprised that Mrs. Norris should ever have it in her power to tell them, as she now and then did, in an angry voice, that Fanny had got another child.

  By the end of eleven years, however, Mrs. Price could no longer afford to cherish resentment, or to lose a connexion that might assist her. A large family, an husband disabled for active service but still equal to good liquor, and a very small income, made her eager to regain her friends; and she sent Lady Bertram a letter which spoke of so much contrition, such a superfluity of children, and such a want of almost everything else, as could only lead to a reconciliation. She was preparing for the arrival of her ninth child; and could not conceal how important she felt her relatives might be to the maintenance of the other eight. Her eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine spirited fellow, who longed to be out in the world. Was there any chance of his being useful to Sir Thomas in the concerns of his West Indian property? or elsewhere?

  The letter re-established peace and kindness. Sir Thomas sent friendly advice, Lady Bertram dispatched money and baby-linen, and Mrs. Norris wrote the letters.

  Within a year a more important advantage to Mrs. Price resulted from it. Mrs. Norris was often observing to the others that she could not get her poor sister out of her head; and at length she owned it to be her wish that poor Mrs. Price should be relieved from the expense of one child entirely. "What if they were to undertake the care of her eldest daughter, a girl now nine years old? The trouble would be nothing, compared with the benevolence of the action." Lady Bertram agreed with her instantly. "I think we cannot do better," said she; "let us send for the child."

  Sir Thomas could not consent so swiftly. He hesitated;—it was a serious charge;—the girl must be adequately provided for, or it would be cruel to take her from her family. He thought of his own four children, of his two sons, of cousins in love, etc.;—but no sooner had he begun to state his objections, than Mrs. Norris interrupted him.

  "My dear Sir Thomas, I perfectly comprehend you, and I entirely agree with you in the main. Do not let us be frightened from a good deed by a trifle. Give a girl an education, and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one she has the means of settling well, without farther expense to anybody. A niece of yours, Sir Thomas, would grow up here with many advantages. I dare say she would not be so handsome as her cousins; but she would probably make a creditable marriage. You are thinking of your sons—but that is unlikely to happen, brought up as they would be like brothers and sisters. It is, in fact, a sure way of providing against the connexion. Suppose her a pretty girl, and seen by Tom or Edmund for the first time seven years hence, and I dare say there would be mischief. But bring her up with them now, and she will never be more to either than a sister."

  "There is much truth in what you say," replied Sir Thomas. "I only meant to observe that we must provide for the child as a gentlewoman, if no such marriage should occur."

  "I thoroughly understand you," cried Mrs. Norris, "you are everything that is generous and considerate. I am always ready to do whatever I can for those I love; and, though I could never feel for th
is little girl the hundredth part of the regard I bear your own dear children, I should hate myself if I neglected her. I have a warm heart; and, poor as I am, would rather deny myself the necessaries of life than be ungenerous. So, if you are not against it, I will write to my poor sister tomorrow, and make the proposal; and I will engage to get the child to Mansfield; you shall have no trouble. My own trouble, you know, I never regard. I will send Nanny to London, and she may have a bed at her cousin the saddler's, and the child may meet her there. They may easily get the child from Portsmouth to London by the coach, under the care of any creditable person that may chance to be going. I dare say there is always some tradesman's wife or other going up."

  A more respectable, though less economical rendezvous being substituted, everything was settled. Sir Thomas was resolved to be the real patron of the child, and Mrs. Norris had not the least intention of being at any expense whatever in her maintenance. Nobody knew better how to dictate liberality to others; but she knew quite as well how to save her own money as to spend that of her friends. Having married on a narrow income, she had, from the first, fancied very strict economy necessary; and what began as prudence, soon grew into a matter of choice. With no family to provide for, there was nothing to impede her frugality; yet she walked home to the Parsonage, after this conversation, in the happy belief of being the most generous sister and aunt in the world.

  When the subject was raised again, her views were more fully explained. In reply to Lady Bertram's calm inquiry of "Where shall the child come to first, sister, to you or to us?" Sir Thomas heard with some surprise that it would be totally out of Mrs. Norris's power to take any share in the personal charge of her. He had been considering her as a welcome companion to Mrs Norris at the Parsonage; but he found himself mistaken. Mrs. Norris was sorry to say that the little girl's staying with them was quite out of the question. Poor Mr. Norris's indifferent state of health made it an impossibility. Poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time.

  "Then she had better come to us," said Lady Bertram, with composure. Sir Thomas added, "Yes, let her home be in this house. She will, at least, have companions of her own age, and a regular instructress."

  "Very true," cried Mrs. Norris. "I only wish I could be more useful; but you see I do all in my power. Nanny shall fetch her, however it may inconvenience me to have my chief counsellor away for three days. I suppose, sister, you will put the child in the little white attic. It will be the best place for her, close by the housemaids, who could help to dress her, you know, and take care of her clothes."

  Lady Bertram made no opposition.

  "I hope she will prove a well-disposed girl," continued Mrs. Norris.

  "Should her disposition be really bad," said Sir Thomas, "we must not, for our own children's sake, continue her in the family; but there is no reason to expect so great an evil. We must prepare ourselves for gross ignorance, some meanness of opinions, and distressing vulgarity of manner; but these are not incurable faults; nor can they be dangerous for her associates. Had my daughters been younger, I should have considered the introduction of such a companion as a very serious matter; but, as it is, there can be nothing to fear for them, and everything to hope for her, from the association."

  "That is exactly what I think," cried Mrs. Norris, "It will be an education for the child, only being with her cousins; if Miss Lee taught her nothing, she would learn to be good and clever from them."

  "I hope she will not tease my poor pug," said Lady Bertram; "I have only just got Julia to leave it alone."

  "There will be some difficulty, Mrs. Norris," observed Sir Thomas, "as to the distinction to be made between the girls as they grow up: how to preserve in the minds of my daughters the consciousness of what they are, without making them think too lowly of their cousin; and how, without depressing her spirits too far, to make her remember that she is not a Miss Bertram. I should wish to see them very good friends, and would not authorise in my girls any arrogance towards their relation; but they cannot be equals. It is a point of great delicacy, and you must assist us in our endeavours to choose exactly the right line of conduct."

  Mrs. Norris was quite at his service, and encouraged him to hope that between them it would be easily managed.

  Mrs. Norris did not write to her sister in vain. Mrs. Price seemed surprised that a girl should be fixed on, when she had so many fine boys, but accepted the offer thankfully, assuring them of her daughter's being a very well-disposed, good-humoured girl. She spoke of her as somewhat delicate, but hoped of her being better for change of air. Poor woman! she probably thought change of air might agree with many of her children.

  CHAPTER 2