feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/cliffnotes/Sense and Sensibility/section_8_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Sense and Sensibility.chapters 11-12
feat_summary_id: chapters 11-12
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapters 11-12", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201101060302/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/s/sense-and-sensibility/summary-and-analysis/chapters-1112", "summary": "As soon as Marianne's leg healed, the private balls began at Barton Hall. Willoughby and Marianne \"were partners for half the time; and when obliged to separate for a couple of dances, were careful to stand together, and scarcely spoke a word to anyone else.\" Marianne was ecstatically happy, but Elinor was lonely, finding no one congenial in the company. Mrs. Jennings was too voluble, and Lady Middleton insipid: \"In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new acquaintances, did Elinor find a person who could in any degree claim the respect of abilities, excite the interest of friendship, or give pleasure as a companion.\" One day the colonel asked Elinor about Marianne's dislike for \"second attachments.\" The colonel began to talk about a young lady who greatly resembled Marianne \"in temper and mind.\" However, he broke off suddenly, leaving Elinor under the impression that he was referring to a tragic experience in his past. On the following day, during a walk, Marianne told Elinor that Willoughby was giving her a horse. Elinor, pained at Marianne's impropriety, told her sister they could not afford to keep a horse or a man to look after it. She also doubted the correctness of receiving such a gift from a man whom Marianne scarcely knew. Marianne replied warmly that she knew Willoughby better than \"any other creature in the world\" except her mother and Elinor. However, she finally yielded to Elinor's good judgment and explained to Willoughby that she could not accept the horse. Elinor, overhearing their conversation, inferred that the two were engaged. This feeling was confirmed by Margaret's seeing Marianne give Willoughby a lock of her hair. One evening at Barton Park, when Mrs. Jennings tried to find out \"who was Elinor's particular favorite,\" Margaret tactlessly told the company, \"there was such a man once, and his name begins with an F.\" Elinor, embarrassed, was grateful to Lady Middleton, who changed the subject. That evening a parry was formed for an excursion the next day to an estate belonging to a brother-in-law of Colonel Brandon.", "analysis": "Marianne and Willoughby seem to be overstepping social rules to a dangerous degree. In the eighteenth century, it was not seen as correct for two people to spend so much time together without being engaged. Marianne's acceptance of the horse, as well as her giving away a lock of her hair -- a very intimate item in those times -- would be considered promiscuous behavior unless the couple were actually engaged. Also, in Austen's day, courtesy required that young ladies be addressed as \"Miss,\" followed by their Christian name. Thus even the thirteen-year-old Margaret is addressed as \"Miss Margaret\" by Mrs. Jennings. Elinor, the eldest daughter in the family, is correctly addressed as \"Miss Dashwood.\" Thus when Elinor heard Willoughby address Marianne by her Christian name, she justifiably concluded that they must be engaged."}
text: 
  
  Little had Mrs. Dashwood or her daughters imagined when they first came
  into Devonshire, that so many engagements would arise to occupy their
  time as shortly presented themselves, or that they should have such
  frequent invitations and such constant visitors as to leave them little
  leisure for serious employment.  Yet such was the case.  When Marianne
  was recovered, the schemes of amusement at home and abroad, which Sir
  John had been previously forming, were put into execution.  The private
  balls at the park then began; and parties on the water were made and
  accomplished as often as a showery October would allow.  In every
  meeting of the kind Willoughby was included; and the ease and
  familiarity which naturally attended these parties were exactly
  calculated to give increasing intimacy to his acquaintance with the
  Dashwoods, to afford him opportunity of witnessing the excellencies of
  Marianne, of marking his animated admiration of her, and of receiving,
  in her behaviour to himself, the most pointed assurance of her
  affection.
  
  Elinor could not be surprised at their attachment.  She only wished
  that it were less openly shewn; and once or twice did venture to
  suggest the propriety of some self-command to Marianne.  But Marianne
  abhorred all concealment where no real disgrace could attend unreserve;
  and to aim at the restraint of sentiments which were not in themselves
  illaudable, appeared to her not merely an unnecessary effort, but a
  disgraceful subjection of reason to common-place and mistaken notions.
  Willoughby thought the same; and their behaviour at all times, was an
  illustration of their opinions.
  
  When he was present she had no eyes for any one else.  Every thing he
  did, was right.  Every thing he said, was clever.  If their evenings at
  the park were concluded with cards, he cheated himself and all the rest
  of the party to get her a good hand.  If dancing formed the amusement
  of the night, they were partners for half the time; and when obliged to
  separate for a couple of dances, were careful to stand together and
  scarcely spoke a word to any body else.  Such conduct made them of
  course most exceedingly laughed at; but ridicule could not shame, and
  seemed hardly to provoke them.
  
  Mrs. Dashwood entered into all their feelings with a warmth which left
  her no inclination for checking this excessive display of them.  To her
  it was but the natural consequence of a strong affection in a young and
  ardent mind.
  
  This was the season of happiness to Marianne.  Her heart was devoted to
  Willoughby, and the fond attachment to Norland, which she brought with
  her from Sussex, was more likely to be softened than she had thought it
  possible before, by the charms which his society bestowed on her
  present home.
  
  Elinor's happiness was not so great.  Her heart was not so much at
  ease, nor her satisfaction in their amusements so pure.  They afforded
  her no companion that could make amends for what she had left behind,
  nor that could teach her to think of Norland with less regret than
  ever.  Neither Lady Middleton nor Mrs. Jennings could supply to her the
  conversation she missed; although the latter was an everlasting talker,
  and from the first had regarded her with a kindness which ensured her a
  large share of her discourse.  She had already repeated her own history
  to Elinor three or four times; and had Elinor's memory been equal to
  her means of improvement, she might have known very early in their
  acquaintance all the particulars of Mr. Jennings's last illness, and
  what he said to his wife a few minutes before he died.  Lady Middleton
  was more agreeable than her mother only in being more silent.  Elinor
  needed little observation to perceive that her reserve was a mere
  calmness of manner with which sense had nothing to do.  Towards her
  husband and mother she was the same as to them; and intimacy was
  therefore neither to be looked for nor desired.  She had nothing to say
  one day that she had not said the day before.  Her insipidity was
  invariable, for even her spirits were always the same; and though she
  did not oppose the parties arranged by her husband, provided every
  thing were conducted in style and her two eldest children attended her,
  she never appeared to receive more enjoyment from them than she might
  have experienced in sitting at home;--and so little did her presence
  add to the pleasure of the others, by any share in their conversation,
  that they were sometimes only reminded of her being amongst them by her
  solicitude about her troublesome boys.
  
  In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new acquaintance, did Elinor find
  a person who could in any degree claim the respect of abilities, excite
  the interest of friendship, or give pleasure as a companion.
  Willoughby was out of the question.  Her admiration and regard, even
  her sisterly regard, was all his own; but he was a lover; his
  attentions were wholly Marianne's, and a far less agreeable man might
  have been more generally pleasing.  Colonel Brandon, unfortunately for
  himself, had no such encouragement to think only of Marianne, and in
  conversing with Elinor he found the greatest consolation for the
  indifference of her sister.
  
  Elinor's compassion for him increased, as she had reason to suspect
  that the misery of disappointed love had already been known to him.
  This suspicion was given by some words which accidentally dropped from
  him one evening at the park, when they were sitting down together by
  mutual consent, while the others were dancing.  His eyes were fixed on
  Marianne, and, after a silence of some minutes, he said, with a faint
  smile, "Your sister, I understand, does not approve of second
  attachments."
  
  "No," replied Elinor, "her opinions are all romantic."
  
  "Or rather, as I believe, she considers them impossible to exist."
  
  "I believe she does.  But how she contrives it without reflecting on
  the character of her own father, who had himself two wives, I know not.
  A few years however will settle her opinions on the reasonable basis of
  common sense and observation; and then they may be more easy to define
  and to justify than they now are, by any body but herself."
  
  "This will probably be the case," he replied; "and yet there is
  something so amiable in the prejudices of a young mind, that one is
  sorry to see them give way to the reception of more general opinions."
  
  "I cannot agree with you there," said Elinor.  "There are
  inconveniences attending such feelings as Marianne's, which all the
  charms of enthusiasm and ignorance of the world cannot atone for.  Her
  systems have all the unfortunate tendency of setting propriety at
  nought; and a better acquaintance with the world is what I look forward
  to as her greatest possible advantage."
  
  After a short pause he resumed the conversation by saying,--
  
  "Does your sister make no distinction in her objections against a
  second attachment? or is it equally criminal in every body?  Are those
  who have been disappointed in their first choice, whether from the
  inconstancy of its object, or the perverseness of circumstances, to be
  equally indifferent during the rest of their lives?"
  
  "Upon my word, I am not acquainted with the minutiae of her principles.
  I only know that I never yet heard her admit any instance of a second
  attachment's being pardonable."
  
  "This," said he, "cannot hold; but a change, a total change of
  sentiments--No, no, do not desire it; for when the romantic refinements
  of a young mind are obliged to give way, how frequently are they
  succeeded by such opinions as are but too common, and too dangerous!  I
  speak from experience.  I once knew a lady who in temper and mind
  greatly resembled your sister, who thought and judged like her, but who
  from an inforced change--from a series of unfortunate circumstances"--
  Here he stopt suddenly; appeared to think that he had said too much,
  and by his countenance gave rise to conjectures, which might not
  otherwise have entered Elinor's head.  The lady would probably have
  passed without suspicion, had he not convinced Miss Dashwood that what
  concerned her ought not to escape his lips.  As it was, it required but
  a slight effort of fancy to connect his emotion with the tender
  recollection of past regard.  Elinor attempted no more.  But Marianne,
  in her place, would not have done so little.  The whole story would
  have been speedily formed under her active imagination; and every thing
  established in the most melancholy order of disastrous love.
  
  
  
  
  As Elinor and Marianne were walking together the next morning the
  latter communicated a piece of news to her sister, which in spite of
  all that she knew before of Marianne's imprudence and want of thought,
  surprised her by its extravagant testimony of both.  Marianne told her,
  with the greatest delight, that Willoughby had given her a horse, one
  that he had bred himself on his estate in Somersetshire, and which was
  exactly calculated to carry a woman.  Without considering that it was
  not in her mother's plan to keep any horse, that if she were to alter
  her resolution in favour of this gift, she must buy another for the
  servant, and keep a servant to ride it, and after all, build a stable
  to receive them, she had accepted the present without hesitation, and
  told her sister of it in raptures.
  
  "He intends to send his groom into Somersetshire immediately for it,"
  she added, "and when it arrives we will ride every day.  You shall
  share its use with me.  Imagine to yourself, my dear Elinor, the
  delight of a gallop on some of these downs."
  
  Most unwilling was she to awaken from such a dream of felicity to
  comprehend all the unhappy truths which attended the affair; and for
  some time she refused to submit to them.  As to an additional servant,
  the expense would be a trifle; Mama she was sure would never object to
  it; and any horse would do for HIM; he might always get one at the
  park; as to a stable, the merest shed would be sufficient.  Elinor then
  ventured to doubt the propriety of her receiving such a present from a
  man so little, or at least so lately known to her.  This was too much.
  
  "You are mistaken, Elinor," said she warmly, "in supposing I know very
  little of Willoughby.  I have not known him long indeed, but I am much
  better acquainted with him, than I am with any other creature in the
  world, except yourself and mama.  It is not time or opportunity that is
  to determine intimacy;--it is disposition alone.  Seven years would be
  insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven
  days are more than enough for others.  I should hold myself guilty of
  greater impropriety in accepting a horse from my brother, than from
  Willoughby.  Of John I know very little, though we have lived together
  for years; but of Willoughby my judgment has long been formed."
  
  Elinor thought it wisest to touch that point no more.  She knew her
  sister's temper.  Opposition on so tender a subject would only attach
  her the more to her own opinion.  But by an appeal to her affection for
  her mother, by representing the inconveniences which that indulgent
  mother must draw on herself, if (as would probably be the case) she
  consented to this increase of establishment, Marianne was shortly
  subdued; and she promised not to tempt her mother to such imprudent
  kindness by mentioning the offer, and to tell Willoughby when she saw
  him next, that it must be declined.
  
  She was faithful to her word; and when Willoughby called at the
  cottage, the same day, Elinor heard her express her disappointment to
  him in a low voice, on being obliged to forego the acceptance of his
  present.  The reasons for this alteration were at the same time
  related, and they were such as to make further entreaty on his side
  impossible.  His concern however was very apparent; and after
  expressing it with earnestness, he added, in the same low voice,--"But,
  Marianne, the horse is still yours, though you cannot use it now.  I
  shall keep it only till you can claim it.  When you leave Barton to
  form your own establishment in a more lasting home, Queen Mab shall
  receive you."
  
  This was all overheard by Miss Dashwood; and in the whole of the
  sentence, in his manner of pronouncing it, and in his addressing her
  sister by her Christian name alone, she instantly saw an intimacy so
  decided, a meaning so direct, as marked a perfect agreement between
  them.  From that moment she doubted not of their being engaged to each
  other; and the belief of it created no other surprise than that she, or
  any of their friends, should be left by tempers so frank, to discover
  it by accident.
  
  Margaret related something to her the next day, which placed this
  matter in a still clearer light.  Willoughby had spent the preceding
  evening with them, and Margaret, by being left some time in the parlour
  with only him and Marianne, had had opportunity for observations,
  which, with a most important face, she communicated to her eldest
  sister, when they were next by themselves.
  
  "Oh, Elinor!" she cried, "I have such a secret to tell you about
  Marianne.  I am sure she will be married to Mr. Willoughby very soon."
  
  "You have said so," replied Elinor, "almost every day since they first
  met on High-church Down; and they had not known each other a week, I
  believe, before you were certain that Marianne wore his picture round
  her neck; but it turned out to be only the miniature of our great
  uncle."
  
  "But indeed this is quite another thing.  I am sure they will be
  married very soon, for he has got a lock of her hair."
  
  "Take care, Margaret.  It may be only the hair of some great uncle of
  HIS."
  
  "But, indeed, Elinor, it is Marianne's. I am almost sure it is, for I
  saw him cut it off.  Last night after tea, when you and mama went out
  of the room, they were whispering and talking together as fast as could
  be, and he seemed to be begging something of her, and presently he took
  up her scissors and cut off a long lock of her hair, for it was all
  tumbled down her back; and he kissed it, and folded it up in a piece of
  white paper; and put it into his pocket-book."
  
  For such particulars, stated on such authority, Elinor could not
  withhold her credit; nor was she disposed to it, for the circumstance
  was in perfect unison with what she had heard and seen herself.
  
  Margaret's sagacity was not always displayed in a way so satisfactory
  to her sister.  When Mrs. Jennings attacked her one evening at the
  park, to give the name of the young man who was Elinor's particular
  favourite, which had been long a matter of great curiosity to her,
  Margaret answered by looking at her sister, and saying, "I must not
  tell, may I, Elinor?"
  
  This of course made every body laugh; and Elinor tried to laugh too.
  But the effort was painful.  She was convinced that Margaret had fixed
  on a person whose name she could not bear with composure to become a
  standing joke with Mrs. Jennings.
  
  Marianne felt for her most sincerely; but she did more harm than good
  to the cause, by turning very red and saying in an angry manner to
  Margaret,
  
  "Remember that whatever your conjectures may be, you have no right to
  repeat them."
  
  "I never had any conjectures about it," replied Margaret; "it was you
  who told me of it yourself."
  
  This increased the mirth of the company, and Margaret was eagerly
  pressed to say something more.
  
  "Oh! pray, Miss Margaret, let us know all about it," said Mrs.
  Jennings.  "What is the gentleman's name?"
  
  "I must not tell, ma'am. But I know very well what it is; and I know
  where he is too."
  
  "Yes, yes, we can guess where he is; at his own house at Norland to be
  sure.  He is the curate of the parish I dare say."
  
  "No, THAT he is not.  He is of no profession at all."
  
  "Margaret," said Marianne with great warmth, "you know that all this is
  an invention of your own, and that there is no such person in
  existence."
  
  "Well, then, he is lately dead, Marianne, for I am sure there was such
  a man once, and his name begins with an F."
  
  Most grateful did Elinor feel to Lady Middleton for observing, at this
  moment, "that it rained very hard," though she believed the
  interruption to proceed less from any attention to her, than from her
  ladyship's great dislike of all such inelegant subjects of raillery as
  delighted her husband and mother.  The idea however started by her, was
  immediately pursued by Colonel Brandon, who was on every occasion
  mindful of the feelings of others; and much was said on the subject of
  rain by both of them.  Willoughby opened the piano-forte, and asked
  Marianne to sit down to it; and thus amidst the various endeavours of
  different people to quit the topic, it fell to the ground.  But not so
  easily did Elinor recover from the alarm into which it had thrown her.
  
  A party was formed this evening for going on the following day to see a
  very fine place about twelve miles from Barton, belonging to a
  brother-in-law of Colonel Brandon, without whose interest it could not
  be seen, as the proprietor, who was then abroad, had left strict orders
  on that head.  The grounds were declared to be highly beautiful, and
  Sir John, who was particularly warm in their praise, might be allowed
  to be a tolerable judge, for he had formed parties to visit them, at
  least, twice every summer for the last ten years.  They contained a
  noble piece of water; a sail on which was to a form a great part of the
  morning's amusement; cold provisions were to be taken, open carriages
  only to be employed, and every thing conducted in the usual style of a
  complete party of pleasure.
  
  To some few of the company it appeared rather a bold undertaking,
  considering the time of year, and that it had rained every day for the
  last fortnight;--and Mrs. Dashwood, who had already a cold, was
  persuaded by Elinor to stay at home.
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapters 11-12
target: As soon as Marianne's leg healed, the private balls began at Barton Hall. Willoughby and Marianne "were partners for half the time; and when obliged to separate for a couple of dances, were careful to stand together, and scarcely spoke a word to anyone else." Marianne was ecstatically happy, but Elinor was lonely, finding no one congenial in the company. Mrs. Jennings was too voluble, and Lady Middleton insipid: "In Colonel Brandon alone, of all her new acquaintances, did Elinor find a person who could in any degree claim the respect of abilities, excite the interest of friendship, or give pleasure as a companion." One day the colonel asked Elinor about Marianne's dislike for "second attachments." The colonel began to talk about a young lady who greatly resembled Marianne "in temper and mind." However, he broke off suddenly, leaving Elinor under the impression that he was referring to a tragic experience in his past. On the following day, during a walk, Marianne told Elinor that Willoughby was giving her a horse. Elinor, pained at Marianne's impropriety, told her sister they could not afford to keep a horse or a man to look after it. She also doubted the correctness of receiving such a gift from a man whom Marianne scarcely knew. Marianne replied warmly that she knew Willoughby better than "any other creature in the world" except her mother and Elinor. However, she finally yielded to Elinor's good judgment and explained to Willoughby that she could not accept the horse. Elinor, overhearing their conversation, inferred that the two were engaged. This feeling was confirmed by Margaret's seeing Marianne give Willoughby a lock of her hair. One evening at Barton Park, when Mrs. Jennings tried to find out "who was Elinor's particular favorite," Margaret tactlessly told the company, "there was such a man once, and his name begins with an F." Elinor, embarrassed, was grateful to Lady Middleton, who changed the subject. That evening a parry was formed for an excursion the next day to an estate belonging to a brother-in-law of Colonel Brandon.
feat_summary_analysis: Marianne and Willoughby seem to be overstepping social rules to a dangerous degree. In the eighteenth century, it was not seen as correct for two people to spend so much time together without being engaged. Marianne's acceptance of the horse, as well as her giving away a lock of her hair -- a very intimate item in those times -- would be considered promiscuous behavior unless the couple were actually engaged. Also, in Austen's day, courtesy required that young ladies be addressed as "Miss," followed by their Christian name. Thus even the thirteen-year-old Margaret is addressed as "Miss Margaret" by Mrs. Jennings. Elinor, the eldest daughter in the family, is correctly addressed as "Miss Dashwood." Thus when Elinor heard Willoughby address Marianne by her Christian name, she justifiably concluded that they must be engaged.