Emma (with an Introduction by Austin Dobson)

By Jane Austen

First published at the end of 1815, Jane Austen’s “Emma” is the story of Emma Woodhouse, a young girl from a good home that does not need the financial support of a husband and is determined not to marry. Emma however is not opposed to the idea of marriage for others and is determined to play matchmaker between the local citizens. Greatly overestimating her own matchmaking abilities, the headstrong young girl is blind to the dangers of meddling in the affairs of others. When she confuses the attentions of Mr. Elton, the local vicar, as interest for her friend Harriet Smith, she briefly ruins the opportunity for Harriet to marry a respectable, educated, and well-spoken young farmer named Robert Martin. When Mr. Elton rejects the idea of being matched with Harriet, the girl is heartbroken, and Emma begins to realize that her actions although well-intended maybe doing more harm than good. In spite of Emma’s resolve not to marry she is presented with opportunities for romance throughout the book and eventually considers the prospect of marriage. “Emma,” a lively comedy of manners, is a classic story of 19th century romance and relationships. This edition includes an introduction by Austin Dobson and a biographical afterword.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Digireads.com Publishing
• Release date: Jun 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781420951134

Jane Austen

Jane Austen (1775–1817) was an English novelist whose work centred on social commentary and realism. Her works of romantic fiction are set among the landed gentry, and she is one of the most widely read writers in English literature.

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EMMA

By JANE AUSTEN

Introduction by AUSTIN DOBSON

Emma

By Jane Austen

Introduction by Austin Dobson

Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5112-7

eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5113-4

This edition copyright © 2015. Digireads.com Publishing.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover Image: A detail of an illustration by Charles Edmund Brock which originally appeared in Emma, J. M. Dent, London, 1898.

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Introduction

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVIII

Chapter XXIX

Chapter XXX

Chapter XXXI

Chapter XXXII

Chapter XXXIII

Chapter XXXIV

Chapter XXXV

Chapter XXXVI

Chapter XXXVII

Chapter XXXVIII

Chapter XXXIX

Chapter XL

Chapter XLI

Chapter XLII

Chapter XLIII

Chapter XLIV

Chapter XLV

Chapter XLVI

Chapter XLVII

Chapter XLVIII

Chapter XLIX

Chapter L

Chapter LI

Chapter LII

Chapter LIII

Chapter LIV

Chapter LV

BIOGRAPHICAL AFTERWORD

Introduction

Emma, a Novel: By the Author of Pride and Prejudice; 3 vols., 12mo, price One Guinea, was first announced in the Quarterly’s list of New Publications for January 1816—the year which appears upon its title-page. In common with Miss Austen’s previous efforts, it was anonymous; but whereas Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park had been obscurely put forth by the obscure Mr. Egerton of the ‘Military Library,’ Whitehall, Emma was ushered into the world under the auspices of the great Mr. Murray. How this transfer of publishers came about is not stated; but from the fact that the announcement of Emma is immediately followed by that of the second edition of Mansfield Park, it must be assumed that the author’s fortunes were now wholly entrusted to the Albemarle Street house. Notwithstanding the date upon its title-page, it is clear that (as is often the case) Emma was actually in circulation in the December of the previous year, and at a still earlier date either the proofs or the MS. must have been in the hands of the Quarterly’s reviewers, since the book is noticed at considerable length in the number for October 1815. Upon the growth and progress of the story the published correspondence of the author, as usual, throws no light. It should have been begun, however, shortly after Mansfield Park was finished; and, in November 1815,—while Miss Austen was nursing her sick brother Henry at 23 Hans Place, it was apparently passing through the press with all the tardiness traditionally attached to that operation. Proof of this may be said to be supplied by deprecatory explanations from Mr. Murray, and apologies from Mr. Roworth, the Quarterly printer. But before the leisurely letter which tells Cassandra Austen of these things was ended, the book was proceeding—again after the customary fashion of books at press—by leaps and bounds; and in the next bulletin the author is wrestling with the printer’s reader over the inevitable (and generally invaluable) marginal queries in proof. Before the middle of December, Emma was on the point of issue; and before the year had closed it was in the hands of some of writer’s friends, including, of necessity, that distinguished Patron of Art and Letters, the Prince Regent, to who as already related in the Introduction to Pride and Prejudice,{1} it had been inscribed by invitation. In writing to the Prince’s librarian, Mr. J. S. Clarke, on the subject of the presentation copy, which was to reach His Royal Highness three days before anyone else, Miss Austen (much in the same way as she had done to her sister with regard to Pride and Prejudice) sets forth her own ideas of the new book—the last, as a matter of fact, which she was destined to behold in type. ‘My greatest anxiety at present is that this fourth work should not disgrace what was good in the others. But on this point (she says) I will do myself the justice to declare that, whatever may be my wishes for its success, I am strongly haunted with the idea that to those readers who have preferred Pride and Prejudice it will appear inferior in wit, and to those who have preferred Mansfield Park inferior in good sense.’

Upon any disparities between Emma and its immediate predecessor, Miss Austen must have derived but scant enlightenment from the notice in the Quarterly, which, by some mischance, while professing to summarize her former novels, is absolutely silent as to Mansfield Park. Of the story of Emma it gives a sufficient report, and an extract of considerable length in illustration of Mr. Woodhouse’s peculiarities. The merits of the author are declared to consist in the neatness and point of the narrative, and the quiet comedy of the dialogue, ‘in which the characters of the speakers evolve themselves with dramatic effect’; while the faults are said to lie in the minute detail of the plan, and in a certain tedium in the presentment of such ‘characters of folly kind simplicity’ as Mr. Woodhouse and Miss Bates. This latter deliverance, as may well be imagined, gave but qualified satisfaction to Miss Austen’s first biographer, Mr. Austen-Leigh, nor was it to the taste of her next critic, Dr. Whately, who, five years later, in the same periodical, traversed both these propositions, besides devoting several pages to special examination of the neglected beauties of Mansfield Park. Miss Austen’s minuteness, Dr. Whately argues, even if it can be characterised as tedious, is essential to that complete acquaintance with her characters which is necessary to interest the reader in them; and in regard to the strictures which his forerunner makes upon her fools, he roundly maintains that it requires more genius to paint a fool than a person of sense,—‘that to the eye of a skillful naturalist, the insects on a leaf present as wide differences as exist between the elephant and the lion,’—and that the critics who find Miss Austen’s fools too like nature, must (whatever deference they may outwardly pay to received opinions) also find Twelfth Night and the Merry Wives of Windsor exceedingly tiresome. In this, and in other parts of his paper, which unhappily was not published until after Miss Austen’s death, Dr. Whately struck the note of subsequent criticism by which, with more or less emphasis, these opinions have been reasserted—the comparison with Shakespeare not omitted. ‘The hand which drew Miss Bates, though it could not have drawn Lady Macbeth, could have drawn Dame Quickly or the nurse in Romeo and Juliet.’ So says Mr. Austen-Leigh’s latest successor, Prof. Goldwin Smith. Yet a genuine admirer may perhaps allow that some of the excellent Miss Bates’s speeches, even though they should be taken by the reader in double-quick time, would not be the worse for curtailment. ‘La nature est bonne à imiter, mais non pas jusqu’à l’ennui.’ This, however, is the solitary concession we are disposed to make to the first critic of Emma, whose depressing remarks upon its humorous personages had probably their baneful effect upon the humorous personages of Persuasion.

The prolonged interval which lies between the composition of Mansfield Park and Emma and the composition of Miss Austen’s previously published novels has doubtless prompted the discovery of a difference between the style of the earlier and later work—a difference which is perhaps more expected than apparent. For, if a comparison of style must be made, it should surely be between the books last written and Northanger Abbey, rather than between those books and Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility, since both of these latter were revised by the author at Chawton, while Northanger Abbey was printed precisely as it had been left when the Bath bookseller buried it provisionally in his drawer. But without refining too nicely, it may be granted that the Chawton group of books exhibit just that progress towards perfection which should be expected when we contrast the efforts of a clever girl in her teens with the same person’s productions after she has gained experience of life. We have seen that Miss Austen herself was prepared to be told that Emma was less witty than Pride and Prejudice, and it is manifest that there is a prodigality of sparkle in the one which is—at least—subdued in the other. In Emma, indeed, Miss Austen appears to have adopted Mademoiselle de Lespinasse’s motto of Rien en relief. With the exception of the somewhat labored outburst in Chapter III in favor of the old-fashioned boarding-school as against the new, the style is everywhere carefully subordinated to the needs of the narrative, while the slender thread of the intrigue is followed with the closest tenacity. The heroine, at first, is scarcely as winning as some of her predecessors, certainly she is not so clever. ‘I am going to take a heroine whom no one but myself will much like,’ said Emma’s creator at the outset, and in part she was right; for Emma’s devices to alienate Harriet from Robert Martin do, at first, create a positive prejudice against her. But her character is so subtly and gradually developed, that by the time she has come to see the errors of match-making, and has reached the luminous moment when ‘it darted through her with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself,’ we are almost prepared to forgive her for being rude to Miss Bates. Whether Mr. Knightley really made an ideal husband is impossible to say, since Miss Austen, although she seems to have vouchsafed some supplementary particulars to her family respecting Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax, has, on this topic, preserved a discreet silence. Lord Brabourne, who is only lukewarm about Emma as a novel, is distinctly of opinion that the marriage did not prove a success. But he is unreasonably prejudiced against Mr. Knightley, who, he says, ‘interfered too much.’ Perhaps he does, but he loves Emma through all her faults, and all his fault-finding. Again, Lord Brabourne considers Mr. Knightley too old. But here has Shakespeare against him:—

"Let still the woman take

An elder than herself. So wears she to him,

So sways she level in her husband’s heart."

Emma, let us hope, wore well, for she can only have been forty when her husband was fifty-six. Those, however, who regard Mr. Knightley as the Grandison of Miss Austen’s little gallery will do well to bear in mind her own warning words: ‘They (Mr. Knightley and Edmund Bertram of Mansfield Park) are very far from being what I know English gentlemen often are.’

Of the remaining characters, Frank Churchill is of the race of the Willoughbys and Wickhams, though perhaps more genuinely agreeable; while of Jane Fairfax and blue-eyed Harriet Smith, with the vacuous ‘heart to let,’ there is not much to say. The valetudinarian vagaries of Mr. Woodhouse, with his cultus of thin gruel (which once moved a noble Earl to poetry in a contemporary Keepsake), his horror of the deadly effects of wedding-cake, and his rigid views on the reckless circulation of the muffin, are certain comic, if they do not even rise to tragedy at the point where poor Mrs. Bates is summarily deprived of her sweet bread because the attendant asparagus is decided to be imperfectly cooked. But according to our strenuous modern ideas, Miss Austen would have succeeded in attaching us more closely to Emma’s father if she could have given him some stronger rectifying qualities than amiability and politeness, and it is impossible not to be haunted by the feeling that he receives from those about him rather more consideration and devotion than he rightly deserves. Of Miss Bates and her inimitable (if inordinate) babble enough has been said. But the Eltons are little masterpieces. The husband with his watery acquiescences and stereotyped ‘Exactly so’s,’ and the flashy, rattle-pated wife with her Maple-grove-and-barouche-landau background, are character-sketches of absolute fidelity to nature. Utterly commonplace they may be, but they are also undeniably alive.

Turning the pages of Emma as we close, we are reminded once again of the writer’s limitations, or, to speak with stricter accuracy, of the limitations within which she prefers to exercise her powers. Her characters, as before, are taken from the middle classes; they live in a country village, to which the story is confined; and they are exhibited in enterprises of no greater pith and moment than are involved in the arrangements for a subscription ball at the Crown, or the preliminaries to a picnic at Box Hill. They are unperplexed by problems, social or political: if they are interested in riddles,—transcribed upon hot-pressed paper ‘and ornamented with ciphers and trophies,’—the riddle of, the painful earth has plainly no place in that elegant anthology. There is a clergyman of whose theology we know no more than that lists were made of his texts, not because the discourses thereon were good, but because he himself was good-looking; there are a barrister and a magistrate, to whose practice of their respective vocations about three lines are devoted in three volumes. Books must sometimes have been read even at Highbury; but the evidences of belles lettres are confined to three or four hackneyed quotations (two of which belong to Mrs. Elton) and the casual mention of certain unnamed authors who lie (like Baker’s Chronicle at Sir Roger de Coverley’s) in the window seat at Abbey-Mill Farm. There are references to parochial meetings at the village inn, which must have brought out the relative positions of Mr. Knightley, Mr. Weston, and Mr. Elton, in a way that would have tempted the pen of Anthony Trollope. But all these things Miss Austen passes by. Doubtless, if she could have been interrogated upon the subject she would have replied—much as she did to the equally impertinent suggestions of the egregious Mr. Clarke—that they were, if not necessarily beyond her hand, at all events beside her matter; and that in any case they were by no means indispensable to the safe conduct of three or four couples towards that ultimate consummation which the high-flown Mrs. Elton describes as ‘Hymen’s saffron robe.’ And whatever Miss Austen’s answer might have been, she is justified by her results. The candid reader Emma—unless, of course, he chance to be the ‘severe, sour-complexioned man’ whom Izaak Walton disallows as a competent judge of literary merit—must admit that the narrative, criticize it as he may, carries him on, interested and expectant, from the first page to the last.

There is another noticeable, and probably hitherto unnoticed, difference between Miss Austen’s work and the novel of to-day, and that is, her almost entire disregard of the servants’ hall as a source for her humorous character. It is true that the names of Mr. Woodhouse’s James, Mrs. Elton’s Wright, Mr. Knightley’s Larkins and Harry, reach us vaguely from the lower regions; but the persons themselves are never definitely presented. Yet, as Thackeray would certainly have hinted, James the coachman must have had his own private views as to the dangerous nature of the ‘corner into Vicarage Lane’; and George Eliot would scarcely have omitted to report at least one of the consultations between William Larkins and his master on the management of the Donwell Abbey Estate, besides letting us know pretty distinctly the opinion of the said William with respect to that master’s marriage. Nor can we help believing that Miss Bates’s Patty (if she had encountered her historian in Mrs. Gaskell) would also be found to have entertained from the first very sagacious and profound opinions as to Miss Jane Fairfax and the cause of her mysterious indisposition. The absence of such matters is to the full as remarkable as the sparing use, already referred to in a previous preface, of descriptive detail. Yet even in the present volume Miss Austen shows that she could, if she would, rival the best of the topographers. Take, for example, the following vignette of the Village High Street. ‘Emma went to the door for amusement. Much could not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;—Mr. Perry walking hastily by; Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the office door; Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise; or a stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her full basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling children round the baker’s little boy-window eyeing the gingerbread, she knew she had no reason to complain, and was as amused enough: quite enough still to stand at the door.’ That, we submit, is not only clearly seen, but touched in with the true economy of line.

POSTSCRIPT

In Mr. Clement Shorter’s highly interesting Charlotte Bronte and her Circle is a hitherto unpublished letter from the author of Jane Eyre, which contains a passage relating to the author of Emma. Although unjust to Miss Austen, it is so characteristic of the writer that, with Mr. Shorter’s permission, it is here reproduced:—

"I have likewise read one of Miss Austen’s works—Emma—read it with interest and with just the degree of admiration which Miss Austen herself would have thought sensible and suitable. Anything like warmth or enthusiasm, anything energetic, poignant, heart-felt, is utterly out of place in commending these works: all such demonstration the authoress would have met with a well-bred sneer, would have calmly scorned as outré and extravagant. She does her business of delineating the surface of the lives of genteel English people curiously well. There is a Chinese fidelity, a miniature delicacy, in the painting. She ruffles her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him by nothing profound. The passions are perfectly unknown to her; she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with that stormy sisterhood. Even to the feelings she vouchsafes no more than an occasional graceful but distant recognition—too frequent converse with them would ruffle the smooth elegance of her progress. Her business is not half so much with the human heart as with the human eyes, mouth, hands, and feet. What sees keenly, speaks aptly, moves flexibly, it suits her to study; but what throbs fast and full, though hidden, what the blood rushes through, what is the unseen seat of life and the sentient target of death—this Miss Austen ignores. She no more, with her mind’s eye, beholds the heart of her race than each man, with bodily vision, sees the heart in his heaving breast. Jane Austen was a complete and most sensible lady, but a very incomplete and rather insensible (not senseless) woman. If this is heresy, I cannot help it."

AUSTIN DOBSON

1915.

Chapter I

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.

She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage, been mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman as governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection.

Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse’s family, less as a governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly of Emma. Between them it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even before Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess, the mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any restraint; and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they had been living together as friend and friend very mutually attached, and Emma doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor’s judgment, but directed chiefly by her own.

The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.

Sorrow came—a gentle sorrow—but not at all in the shape of any disagreeable consciousness.—Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor’s loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any continuance. The wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father and herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to cheer a long evening. Her father composed himself to sleep after dinner, as usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost.

The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Weston was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, and pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and promoted the match; but it was a black morning’s work for her. The want of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her past kindness—the kindness, the affection of sixteen years—how she had taught and how she had played with her from five years old—how she had devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health—and how nursed her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large debt of gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven years, the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed Isabella’s marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of hers—one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection for her as could never find fault.

How was she to bear the change?—It was true that her friend was going only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must be the difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a Miss Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural and domestic, she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual solitude. She dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. He could not meet her in conversation, rational or playful.

The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits; for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time.

Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her daily reach; and many a long October and November evening must be struggled through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to fill the house, and give her pleasant society again.

Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town, to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies, and name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses were first in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil, but not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but sigh over it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke, and made it necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He was a nervous man, easily depressed; fond of every body that he was used to, and hating to part with them; hating change of every kind. Matrimony, as the origin of change, was always disagreeable; and he was by no means yet reconciled to his own daughter’s marrying, nor could ever speak of her but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection, when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor too; and from his habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able to suppose that other people could feel differently from himself, he was very much disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for herself as for them, and would have been a great deal happier if she had spent all the rest of her life at Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully as she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but when tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly as he had said at dinner.

Poor Miss Taylor!—I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that Mr. Weston ever thought of her!

I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves a good wife;—and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her own?

A house of her own!—But where is the advantage of a house of her own? This is three times as large.—And you have never any odd humours, my dear.

"How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us!—We shall be always meeting! We must begin; we must go and pay wedding visit very soon."

My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I could not walk half so far.

No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage, to be sure.

The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a little way;—and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our visit?

They are to be put into Mr. Weston’s stable, papa. You know we have settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. Weston last night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going to Randalls, because of his daughter’s being housemaid there. I only doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing, papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you mentioned her—James is so obliged to you!

I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I am sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken girl; I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor to have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will be able to tell her how we all are.

Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, and hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards walked in and made it unnecessary.

Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella’s husband. He lived about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome, and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their mutual connections in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after some days’ absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner, which always did him good; and his many inquiries after poor Isabella and her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr. Woodhouse gratefully observed—

It is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley, to come out at this late hour to call upon us. I am afraid you must have had a shocking walk.

Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I must draw back from your great fire.

But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not catch cold.

Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.

Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.

By the bye—I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of what sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you all behave? Who cried most?

Ah! poor Miss Taylor! ’tis a sad business.

Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say ‘poor Miss Taylor.’ I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it comes to the question of dependence or independence!—At any rate, it must be better to have only one to please than two.

"Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome creature! said Emma playfully. That is what you have in your head, I know—and what you would certainly say if my father were not by."

I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed, said Mr. Woodhouse, with a sigh. I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.

"My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean you, or suppose Mr. Knightley to mean you. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know—in a joke—it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another."

Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew it would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by every body.

Emma knows I never flatter her, said Mr. Knightley, but I meant no reflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons to please; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be a gainer.

Well, said Emma, willing to let it pass—you want to hear about the wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks: not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that we were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting every day.

Dear Emma bears every thing so well, said her father. "But, Mr. Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I am sure she will miss her more than she thinks for."

Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles.

It is impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion, said Mr. Knightley. We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor’s advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor’s time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor must be glad to have her so happily married.

And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me, said Emma, and a very considerable one—that I made the match myself. I made the match, you know, four years ago; and to have it take place, and be proved in the right, when so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again, may comfort me for any thing.

Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, Ah! my dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for whatever you say always comes to pass. Pray do not make any more matches.

I promise you to make none for myself, papa; but I must, indeed, for other people. It is the greatest amusement in the world! And after such success, you know!—Every body said that Mr. Weston would never marry again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied either in his business in town or among his friends here, always acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful—Mr. Weston need not spend a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr. Weston certainly would never marry again. Some people even talked of a promise to his wife on her deathbed, and others of the son and the uncle not letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the subject, but I believed none of it. Ever since the day—about four years ago—that Miss Taylor and I met with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he darted away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from Farmer Mitchell’s, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the match from that hour; and when such success has blessed me in this instance, dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off match-making."

I do not understand what you mean by ‘success,’ said Mr. Knightley. "Success supposes endeavour. Your time has been properly and delicately spent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring about this marriage. A worthy employment for a young lady’s mind! But if, which I rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it, means only your planning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, ‘I think it would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were to marry her,’ and saying it again to yourself every now and then afterwards, why do you talk of success? Where is your merit? What are you proud of? You made a lucky guess; and that is all that can be said."

And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess?—I pity you.—I thought you cleverer—for, depend upon it a lucky guess is never merely luck. There is always some talent in it. And as to my poor word ‘success,’ which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures; but I think there may be a third—a something between the do-nothing and the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston’s visits here, and given many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might not have come to any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield enough to comprehend that.

A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational, unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than good to them, by interference.

Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others, rejoined Mr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. But, my dear, pray do not make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one’s family circle grievously.

Only one more, papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr. Elton, papa,—I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in Highbury who deserves him—and he has been here a whole year, and has fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have him single any longer—and I thought when he was joining their hands to-day, he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same kind office done for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I have of doing him a service.

Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very good young man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to show him any attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day. That will be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as to meet him.

With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time, said Mr. Knightley, laughing, and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much better thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish and the chicken, but leave him to choose his own wife. Depend upon it, a man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself.

Chapter II

Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family, which for the last two or three generations had been rising into gentility and property. He had received a good education, but, on succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged, and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by entering into the militia of his county, then embodied.

Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of his military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great Yorkshire family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was surprised, except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him, and who were full of pride and importance, which the connection would offend.

Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her fortune—though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate—was not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off with due decorum. It was an unsuitable connection, and did not produce much happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thing due to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him; but though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home. They lived beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison of Enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe.

Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills, as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst of the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years’ marriage, he was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain. From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his mother’s, been the means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the little Frank soon after her decease. Some scruples and some reluctance the widower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as they were overcome by other considerations, the child was given up to the care and the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his own comfort to seek, and his own situation to improve as he could.

A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia and engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which brought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury, where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful occupation and the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty years of his life passed cheerfully away. He had, by that time, realised an easy competence—enough to secure the purchase of a little estate adjoining Highbury, which he had always longed for—enough to marry a woman as portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of his own friendly and social disposition.

It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth, it had not shaken his determination of never settling till he could purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to; but he had gone steadily on, with these objects in view, till they were accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. He had never been an unhappy man; his own temper had secured him from that, even in his first marriage; but his second must show him how delightful a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him the pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it.

He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his own; for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as his uncle’s heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, therefore, that he should ever want his father’s assistance. His father had no apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious woman, and governed her husband entirely; but it was not in Mr. Weston’s nature to imagine that any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his son every year in London, and was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine young man had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was looked on as sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and prospects a kind of common concern.

Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit his father had been often talked of but never achieved.

Now, upon his father’s marriage, it was very generally proposed, as a most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not a dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea with Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the visit. Now was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them; and the hope strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his new mother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in Highbury included some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received. I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and he says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life.

It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course, formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a most welcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulation which her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate she might well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and who could ill bear to part with her.

She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think, without pain, of Emma’s losing a single pleasure, or suffering an hour’s ennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston’s disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the week together.

Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs. Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction—her more than satisfaction—her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent, that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprise at his being still able to pity ‘poor Miss Taylor,’ when they left her at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own. But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse’s giving a gentle sigh, and saying—

Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay.

There was no recovering Miss Taylor—nor much likelihood of ceasing to pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse. The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased by being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, which had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. 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 any body; 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 any body’s eating it. He had been at the 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

Reviews for Emma (with an Introduction by Austin Dobson)

[underthebookpile · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Emma is a classic novel that still delights after all this time. It follows the spoilt but well-intentioned titular character as she develops schemes to fix her friends up with suitable husbands. For the most part, they all backfire, leaving some of her acquaintances worse off than they were before. Despite this, you can't help but still like Emma. All of the characters, including her, are very well developed and have humorous quirks and interactions throughout the story. Folks who like the movie "Clueless" might like this book as it is the very closely related basis for the film.

[boundtogetherforgood · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Emma Woodhouse is 21. She lives with her father and from the age of 12 was raised by him and a live-in governess, Miss Taylor who is now the newly married Mrs. Weston. Emma set things rolling for that romance to take hold; at least she believes she did.Emma has a passion for arranging couples. The book follows her as she sets out to arrange a fitting match for Miss Harriet Smith. Readers either cringe or enjoy the ride as they watch Emma woefully mess up Miss Smith's life for a time.Through all of this Emma avers that she has no intention of every marrying. Of course that stand is well challenged by the end of the book.I very much enjoyed reading this Jane Austen novel. The only other book of hers that I have read is Pride and Prejudice which I loved. P&P was a masterpiece. I feel that Emma was a good book but not as witty or as culturally astute as P&P. I eagerly look forward to reading more of Miss Austen's works.Oh, and I can't step away without saying the Mr. Woodhouse, described at the beginning of the book as a "valetudinarian:a person who is excessively concerned about his or her poor health or ailments" really got on my nerves!

[ainjel-3 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Honestly I found this to be one of the harder Austen novels to read. The plot wasn't as captivating as some of her other works, nor were the characters as interesting. Mr. Knightly and Emma are, of course, exceedingly interesting, but everyone else I found rather blah and dull which might have been the point. Emma is an absolute scoundrel and I was constantly reminded of the Austen quote where she tells her sister I believe that Emma is a protagonist only she will like. There are a lot of interesting choices and techniques used in this novel that require some more pondering and close reading, but I will say this: Emma is not the best Austen novel, but it is probably one of the best literary pieces she produced.

All in all, I would recommend this book to the dedicated Austen fans, but I probably wouldn't recommend it as a starter into Jane Austen literature.

[mhanover10 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Maybe I shouldn't have listened to this as an audio book because I found it kind of boring. I'm looking forward to listening to more of her books.

[doingdewey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Although Emma isn’t going to displace Sense & Sensibility and Pride & Prejudice as my favorite Austen, it was definitely a fun read. The introduction mentions that Emma was Austen’s favorite character she created and I can see why. She’s sometimes naive or snobby, but she’s also cheerful, happy, and concerned with the happiness of others. I thought her father and sister were pretty funny, unique characters as well. The way relationships develop between characters is generally slow, subtle, and believable. The end is a bit abrupt and everything wraps up a bit too neatly, but I was in the mood for a light read and actually liked that the resolution wasn’t drawn out too much. Overall, this was a very fun, light read.

This review first published at Doing Dewey.

[kristykay22 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An extremely enjoyable and often hilarious slice of Georgian life featuring the spoiled, snotty, but also weirdly lovable Emma who is very convinced she understands how everyone feels even when she is repeatedly proven wrong (even about herself). Austen has the ability to draw characters that are simultaneously pointed caricatures and lovingly individualistic portraits. It is no wonder she published her novels anonymously during her lifetime, because I'm sure her friends, family, and acquaintances could find themselves in these pages. Not sure how I made it this long without reading this one, but I'm glad I finally did.

[jessiqa_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Emma is from the leading family in Highbury, living alone with her widowed father at Hartfield. She loves to play matchmaker, feeling her skills quite superior after her friend's marriage went exactly as she hoped. Now Emma has set her sights on Harriet, a young woman of unknown parentage whom Emma wishes to match with the local vicar. The book is a comedy of misunderstandings and secrets. People often don't talk about how they really feel, leaving things up for interpretation, and often misinterpretation.I really enjoyed Emma. The prose is very simple, making it an easy read. I like that Emma herself is a flawed character who comes to recognize her flaws and works to correct them. Not everyone in the story is as self-aware as she is, and that's part of the fun. Austen created a cast of characters here whom you could easily recognize in real life. (How many of us know a talkative Miss Bates?) It's a romantic comedy where the matchmaker lead has no desire for marriage herself, which is perhaps unusual in this genre (and also serves to make the story more interesting). I wholeheartedly recommend reading Emma. It's a fun, low-stakes comedy, with lovable characters and a happy ending.

[odinblindeye · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Not the biggest Jane Austin fan, as I find her subject matter not as engaging as some would have me believe. It's a well written book, and her humor is definitely there, but I just don't get the same feeling from Emma as I did from say, Pride and Prejudice. It was alright, but still, I needed to force myself to finish this one off.

[wodenthewanderer · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Not the biggest Jane Austin fan, as I find her subject matter not as engaging as some would have me believe. It's a well written book, and her humor is definitely there, but I just don't get the same feeling from Emma as I did from say, Pride and Prejudice. It was alright, but still, I needed to force myself to finish this one off.

[homeschoolmimzi · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Boo on this one. I can't believe Emma is a classic. If there were soap operas in the 19th century, this would have made an excellent teleplay for one. There were no noble characters; all were rich gossips overly concerned with complexions, tea time and the weather. Everyone was so afraid of being sick because of drafts, rain, lack of good air, etc.. Also annoying was the tedious length it took someone to express a thought (and not a very worthwhile thought at that). What could be expressed in one sentence took about three paragraphs.
Emma was a rich, spoiled busybody who constantly tried to play matchmaker, and she was horrible at it. That's the basic story. Not worth reading. I was going to read some more Jane Austen but I think I need a break for now.

[boredness-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I think this was the first Jane Austen book that I have read. I had no idea what the story was going to be about before reading but I really enjoyed it. It was interesting to read about a match maker who has been setting up her friends. Emma reminded me of someone I could have known in my real life. She's not perfect although she thinks we has a great knack for setting people up. I thought it was interesting how she ended up getting married herself. I didn't really see her as a good match for her future husband. It seems like that part of the story wasn't planned out before the book started to be written. But all in all, I did enjoy this book and would love to read more by this author.

[bookomaniac-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Andermaal is het hoofdthema: misleiding, niets is wat het lijkt. Andermaal happy end. De hoofdfiguur Emma is eigenlijk niet echt sympathiek, eerder meelijwekkend.Wel weer mooi societyportret en vooral enorme psychologische diepgang (in dit opzicht is Austen zelfs een voorloper van Dostojevski). Vlotte dialogen afgewisseld met beschrijving en introspectie. Vormelijk toch wel minder dan P&P, met soms langdradige stukken.

[aeolvey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Love it, love it, love it!

[epictale · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I dallied on purpose through Emma, taking nearly two on-again, off-again months to savor Jane Austen’s delicious prose, her sympathetic and perceptive portrayals of the protagonist and other main characters, and her exquisitely adept, lost-art use of semicolons. I hadn’t expected to discover and enjoy numerous laugh out loud moments, but Austen delivered the goods repeatedly...especially at the expense of pompous Mrs. Elton and hare-brained Miss Bates. Although the social mores of 18C Britain were obviously very different from those of today, Austen conveyed the motivations and behaviors of her characters in a way that modern readers can easily recognize and relate to. Brava!

[jawalter · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

eBook

I really don't know what to say about this. Austen is, as always, a delight to read, and even the fact that you can see what's going to happen from early on in the book (I bet there will be a secret engagement!) doesn't spoil the pleasure.

Emma's a great character if for no other reason than that her flaws actually make her a bad person, which seems strange for what I expect out of an Austen book. The fact that she's redeemed by the end doesn't change the fact that for most of the book, she doesn't seem to deserve the advantages she's been given.

[emcarso1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jane Austen. Enough said - the greatest of romance writers.

[kimmr_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I have enjoyed re-reading Emma this time more than I ever have before. Listening to Nadia May's narration of the audiobook no doubt contributed to this. This novel demonstrates Jane Austen's genius: she gives Emma Woodhouse a whole range of faults - including conceit, vanity, pride and immaturity. And yet Emma is real and she is likeable. She makes you cringe, but you cheer for her when she recognises her mistakes and tries to make things right. Other characters are equally masterful: Miss Bates' sympathetic silliness, Mrs Elton's sheer awfulness, Mr Knightley's calm good sense. I love them all, even though spending the afternoon with some of them would be a major trial!

[narilka · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Although convinced that she herself will never marry, Emma Woodhouse - beautiful, clever, rich and single - imagines herself to be naturally talented in match making. But when she ignores the warnings of her good friend Mr. Knightley and attempts to arrange a suitable match for her friend Harriet Smith, her carefully laid plans soon unravel and have consequences that she never expected. My only experience with Austen before this was Pride and Prejudice, which I quite enjoyed, so I was surprised by how hard a time I had getting into Emma. The story dragged in the beginning for me and I found myself putting the book down quite often. There was a lack of plot and I found that saw things coming that the characters didn't which made their big reveals have less impact. The other issue I had was with Austen's writing style. Her use of language is beautiful. However, at some points when the story seems to be going very slowly it began to grate on me. She also seemed to do a lot of telling rather than showing. That said, by the third act I finally became more involved with the characters. They are funny, witty, annoying and quite memorable. The social commentary provided by the ladies was an interesting insight into the times back then. Some things are vastly different now and in others things haven't changed all that much. I'm glad I stuck it out.

[hobbitprincess · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A delightful book, if not a little irritating in parts. I've read this at least once before, but it's been a few years. Emma lives with her father and fancies herself a matchmaker who will never marry herself. She learns a few lessons along the way that turn her from a spoiled, annoying young woman to someone who is kind and caring. My only complaint with this book is that Mr. Woodhouse and Mrs. Elton annoy me to tears. Otherwise, this is a good read.

[lyzzybee · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

(late 1980s / early 1990s, dated from sticky-backed-plastic covering)How DO you actually review a book by Austen? Hasn’t everything already been said before? This was one of the two least-known of her books to me (the other being “Persuasion”, which I read back in January) but it’s just such a good read, with wonderful characters, and, although I had forgotten much of it, I remembered the well-plotted and satisfying story.As with other classics (see Hardy reads and “Middlemarch“, I have found my reaction to this book changing over time. I found Jane Fairfax unjustly judged now – although that’s obviously part of the story – where I found her annoying before, and I recall being more frustrated with Mr Woodhouse in earlier days – now I can see the worry shining through his dealings with anything at all out of the ordinary, having lost his wife young and only having one daughter left at home. Book blogger Dovegreyreader, who has also recently read and reviewed this book, although for the first time, points out the effects of the loss of her mother on Emma, and you can see that when it’s pointed out to you, with the lack of female guidance (think of Jo from Little Women without her mother) and only her governess to oversee her moral development, someone who is, although full of sense herself, perhaps a little over-indulgent of her dear Emma. And I think that it is to these women of sense, rather than sensibility, that we turn as we get older, isn’t it? Emma perhaps moves from one point to the other over the course of the book, and of course her relationship with Mr Knightley is just perfect! A great read, anyway.

[tehuset · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Det är svårt att tro att man kan bli så intresserad av vardagslivet i ett litet samhälle i 1800-talets England. Men det blir man. Det finns en varm, humoristisk ton genom hela boken som gör den till en riktigt fin läsupplevelse. Bra sommarläsning! "Emma" är en kärlekshistoria men också en utvecklingsroman, där man får följa huvudpersonens mognad till ung kvinna. Mitt bestående intryck är alla de trevliga miljöskildringarna - man går på middag, ställer till med dans, åker på utflykt och går på visiter och promenader. De verkar ha det så trevligt i Highbury!It's hard to believe that you can become so interested in the everyday life in a small town in England, two centuries ago... But it gets you. There is a warm, humorous tone throughout the book that makes it a really nice reading experience. A very good choice for your relaxed summer reading! "Emma" is a love story but also a story where one can follow the main character's maturation into a young woman. My lasting impression is all the nice environment descriptions - you go to dinner, get up to dance, go for trips and walks and visit people. They seem to have such a nice time in Highbury!

[annesanse · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

After reading and loving Pride and Prejudice, I decided to really take my time with Emma and thought it wouldn't come anywhere close to P&P. I am surprised to say that I liked it even better! Having seen a couple of the video adaptions of this, I was already familiar with the story and knew all the major plot points. What you don't get as well in the movies however is the incredible transformation in Emma's way of thinking. It was so beautifully written and yet was also incredibly funny. I loved every single character (even the annoying ones) for what they brought to the story. Also, Mr. Knightley was just completely wonderful. Overall, I have to say that Emma is my new favorite novel. It had everything I want out of a book.

[sarah1e · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Emma is the kind of coming of age story only Jane Austen could produce. Emma Woodhouse seems the perfect young lady; pretty, rich, attentive to her elderly father, polite to all the lesser peoples around her. But she is also as prone to cruelty and silliness as any child. She fancies herself a matchmaker, and makes some efforts at that. Events transpire to bring her back to her senses, and she begins to mature into a sensible woman. What would the moral of the story be? - An Austen heroine always gets her man.

[eilantha_le_fay · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I couldn’t help loving this book, even though I already knew the story. Her imagery is so vivid that I felt it as a time machine, transporting me to nineteenth century England, wandering through uncobbled streets and amazing houses with lady friends wearing beautiful dresses. Meeting gentlemen and speaking in a guarded but still meaningful way, minding respect and propriety above everything else. So much fun!Emma is an adorable heroine. It’s lovely to watch her make mistakes and then try to make things right again on her way. It made me realize women (and men) didn’t change so much in almost two hundred years.

[bherner_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Don't get the fuss. Did not enjoy.

[oliviabiba-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Emma Woodhouse is a young girl of 20 (or 21?), beautiful, lovable and therefore loved by everyone surrounding her, rich, socially privileged... The story begins right after her governess' marriage, a match that Emma proud herself of being responsible for. Now she's left alone with her father, a man that very much reminds us of a hobbit when it comes to his way of thinking and behaving, and so she decides to engage herself in matching another couple (she has decided not to ever get marry).

Despite the fact that I usually like Jane Austen's books VERY much and having enjoyed this reading, I do think that Austen should have taken a closer look at how she portraits Emma. Since she's the protagonist, I felt like I should like her, but it was simply impossible to do so. Nevertheless, I found it really hard to sympathize with a girl who's so spoiled (and I failed to understand how she was so very much loved by all the other characters) and by the end of the book I felt happy not for Emma, but for the other characters. But maybe that was the point, maybe that was a way of portraying England's rural society from early 18th century.

Most of the book consists in dialogues, descriptions of daily life in that society and the relationships between the neighbors. Now, talking about a period novel I always find it really hard to reach an equilibrium point between what was the author's view/intention and what is more of a description (yes, I know there's no such a thing as a description totally absent from the author's opinion, but here I'm referring to what was unintentional). After all I'm reading something from two centuries ago so most of what people speak and/or how they speak is different, so how can I know what was common at that time? In general I always think the way they treat each other to be extremely polite, too formal, which presented some kind of challenge at first, but after a while we tend to understand the characters and get used to the way of acting of each one of them.

I believe this to be a good read for those eager to get an idea of habits and society from that time, especially concerning the social position by birth, how people moved within society and the treatment reserved to each one, which was defined not only by wealth, but also by tradition. Tradition, I believe, is the word that best describes England, even now.

[princess0starr · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very funny and witty, but not one of my particular favorites. It’s more along the lines of Northanger Abbey where it’s very obvious what Austen is making fun of, but there’s only so much to do with a character. Also, very confusing when you have two people referred to as Mr. Knightley which Is not good when one of them is supposed to be the love interest. Still, a good read.

[steelwhisper · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Re-read these days and am still just loving this!

[murphy4jacobs · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I remember reading a foreword in my first edition of Emma -- was it by Margaret Drabble? -- where it was mentioned that Jane Austen thought no one would like the character of Emma but herself.

At first, I thought she was right. I didn't much care for Emma the first time I read the book. I occasionally wanted to smack her smug face. I certainly didn't think she deserved Mr. Knightly and sometimes thought a dotty spinsterhood was her appropriate fate.

But I read the book again and I changed my mind.

Emma isn't the most likable of fictional characters, at least at first, but this is what makes her so splendid. She grows during the book -- something that is always an effective part of a novel for me. She makes mistakes and then learns from them (although she does have to make the same mistakes a few times to really get the point, but so many of us do the same). As I read the book again, I realized what irritated me so much about Emma was how very much she resembled me and many people I knew, in that way that seeing your own worst qualities reflected in someone else is irritating like nothing else. Emma is a mirror, and she does not reflect a flattering portrait.

Once you get over that little hurdle, it's a very funny, very clever book. Austen has her sharp, sardonic wit at the ready and she uses it to show us the little micro-environment that is Highbury in great but never dull detail. We see the proud, the foolish, the overly reserved, the overly demonstrative -- and, unusually, a bit of all of these are in Emma. She is a more rounded, complete character than Austen has created in her previous books. By the time I'd finished the second read, I was nearly as fond of Emma as Austen.

[melissarochelle_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Emma is one of my favorite Jane Austen characters (I think I've raed this one more than P&P). And watching the 2009 Masterpiece Classic version of Emma is so much fun. I love how silly and simple they portray Harriet.