“She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge’s children—a dear friend of Mrs. Elton’s—a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?”
Mrs. Elton thought she had taken on Jane as a 'pet' and this was helping her, but now Jane has to back out of her promise to teach those children. How precarious educational opportunities were for children, even in the upper classes.
Half a dozen natural children, perhaps—and poor Frank cut off!—This, though very undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It inspired little more than an animating curiosity.
I read somewhere about how having a lot of children is looked down upon for poor people but merely eccentric for the wealthy. Another instance of the varying expectations of rich and poor. In Regency England, I think children were expected to not get in the way of adult life and not draw attention to themselves. Charles Dickens work expresses more about the burden children in poverty were perceived as during the time.
Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note. In half an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks from Miss Bates, but “dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being sent back; it was a thing she could not take—and, moreover, she insisted on her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing.”
Immaturity on Jane's part, I think. Both for being so picky about eating as to make it the pressing concern of all your relations, to refuse perfectly good arrowroot, and then to scour the meadows for your own.
Arrowroot is a food of low nutritional value that was sought after by people who had various food intolerances.
There are connections to racism as it relied on slavery for mass production and exportation and the obsession with 'purity' also has ideological similarities with reference to race.
http://www.digitalussouth.org/vegetable/vegetable.php?vegName=Arrow%20Root
Yes, indeed, there is every thing in the world that can make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment, so liberal and elegant, in all Mrs. Elton’s acquaintance. Mrs. Smallridge, a most delightful woman!—A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove—and as to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there are not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with such regard and kindness!—It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of pleasure.—And her salary!—I really cannot venture to name her salary to you, Miss Woodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great sums, would hardly believe that so much could be given to a young person like Jane.” “Ah! madam,” cried Emma, “if other children are at all like what I remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly earned.”
Jane will have a good living because there will be lots of children to teach (as she is trained as a governess).
Emma tries to be self-depricating about her childhood but given her other actions it could also come off as insincere.
trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you can do now
Among other things, this is an admonishment to grow up.
An old married man
Pushing away from any association with childhood, adolescence, or youth.
Emma, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe.
Adolescent need to be flattered and entertained at every moment. Her immaturity comes to a head later on on the chapter and Mr. Knightley acts as an elder and scolds her. It is unsettling for a number of reasons but one of which it is that it highlights their age difference and then also positions him as superior in terms of emotional maturity as well. Questions are raised as to what the role of a partner should be in such circumstances. On the one hand, it is good be honest with one another about how unkind behavior affects social dynamics, but also one cannot be partners with someone who is always telling you your social failings or someone who needs constant social monitoring.
Mr. Knightley’s excessive curiosity to know what this word might be, made him seize every possible moment for darting his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it to be Dixon. Jane Fairfax’s perception seemed to accompany his; her comprehension was certainly more equal to the covert meaning, the superior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was evidently displeased; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed more deeply than he had ever perceived her, and saying only, “I did not know that proper names were allowed,” pushed away the letters with even an angry spirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word that could be offered. Her face was averted from those who had made the attack, and turned towards her aunt.
Adolescent teasing. Similar to flirting and teasing from earlier.
Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table was quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much disposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming words for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The quietness of the game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse, who had often been distressed by the more animated sort, which Mr. Weston had occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in lamenting, with tender melancholy, over the departure of the “poor little boys,” or in fondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter near him, how beautifully Emma had written it.
Playing a children's game. Also, a re-emergence of the word play from the riddles earlier.
Mr. Woodhouse also conflates childhood with poverty again: "poor little boys."
“Here,” resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, “here is something still more valuable, I mean that has been more valuable, because this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister never did.”
To borrow from an earlier conversation, is the box of treasures, Child-like or Child-ish?
gipsies
Here is a link to a post about the Romany of England during the regency. It says that to even have spoken with these people during the time was a crime and that might account for some of Harriet's fear. It also adds another dimension to the conflation of 'othering' of children, the poor, and racism.
https://janeaustensworld.com/tag/gypsies-in-regency-england/
She had an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man, for she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message.
Another connection between childhood and ill/wellness
when the other very person was chancing to pass by to rescue her!
Mr. Churchill was supposed to rescue Harriet from her childhood of poverty (represented by the 'gang' of unruly children), being single, her embarrassment at being rejected by Mr. Elton, and more...
Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen children, headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and impertinent in look, though not absolutely in word.—More and more frightened, she immediately promised them money, and taking out her purse, gave them a shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to use her ill.—She was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was moving away—but her terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was followed, or rather surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more.
This brood of children, called a 'gang' later on in the paragraph is to be feared in the book. The 'stout' woman may be the mother. They are poor people intending to rob Harriet. The scene sets up another instance where the poor are symbolized not just by children, but by them behaving badly.
Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a difficult question to answer
There are tinges of sibling rivalry here. Mr. Knightley notices and points them out.
By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old, on losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the consolation, the foundling of her grandmother and aunt, there had seemed every probability of her being permanently fixed there; of her being taught only what very limited means could command, and growing up with no advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what nature had given her in a pleasing person, good understanding, and warm-hearted, well-meaning relations. But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a change to her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly regarded Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young man; and farther, had been indebted to him for such attentions, during a severe camp-fever, as he believed had saved his life. These were claims which he did not learn to overlook, though some years passed away from the death of poor Fairfax, before his own return to England put any thing in his power. When he did return, he sought out the child and took notice of her. He was a married man, with only one living child, a girl, about Jane’s age: and Jane became their guest, paying them long visits and growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years old, his daughter’s great fondness for her, and his own wish of being a real friend, united to produce an offer from Colonel Campbell of undertaking the whole charge of her education. It was accepted; and from that period Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell’s family, and had lived with them entirely, only visiting her grandmother from time to time. The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others; the very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father making independence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was out of Colonel Campbell’s power; for though his income, by pay and appointments, was handsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all his daughter’s; but, by giving her an education, he hoped to be supplying the means of respectable subsistence hereafter.
I read a theory that Jane Fairfax is Jane Bates are mother an daughter. The evidence was Miss Bates affection and their same name, because Georgian women named their daughters after themselves. The paragraph that says decidedly that Jane had a mother that she lost when she was three, so I prefer an interpretation about a trauma bond where a woman who lost her husband takes an interest in a small child without a mother.
We also see another instance similar to Harriet where people take in an orphaned girl with the intention of making her a toy or doll for themselves or another child and they think they are helping by 'giving' her a destiny--in this case, training to be a governess.
This is affronting, even through the Campbell's are regarded as good people.
Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates’s youngest daughter.
Here is the first place I think where they say for sure that Jane is an orphan, too. I wonder why it took so far into the book?
Upon my word,” exclaimed Emma, “you amuse me! I should like to know how many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being of the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure to attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine—what have they been? Dining once with the Coles—and having a ball talked of, which never took place. I can understand you—(nodding at Mr. John Knightley)—your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning to Mr. Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours from Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for me, I cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that if Aunt Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where she is absent one—and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself or settling his accounts.”
More perhaps ventriloquization about being an aunt. Maybe an expansion of expectations of motherhood that moves beyond biological childbirth.
Mrs. Weston, with her baby on her knee, indulging in such reflections as these, was one of the happiest women in the world. If any thing could increase her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would soon have outgrown its first set of caps.
Will there be opportunities for sibling rivalry with Anna and Emma similar to the rivalry with Jane.
“Do you?—I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:—Miss Taylor gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what right has he to lecture me?—and I am afraid very natural for you to feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much without doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors, have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least.” “I am sure you were of use to me,” cried Emma. “I was very often influenced rightly by you—oftener than I would own at the time. I am very sure you did me good. And if poor little Anna Weston is to be spoiled, it will be the greatest humanity in you to do as much for her as you have done for me, except falling in love with her when she is thirteen.”
This is strong example of the undercurrent of nature and nurture with regard to children but also with regard to social class.
“That is,” replied Mr. Knightley, “she will indulge her even more than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will be the only difference.” “Poor child!” cried Emma; “at that rate, what will become of her?” “Nothing very bad.—The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to you, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?” Emma laughed, and replied: “But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it.”
Mr. Knightley might be making a commentary about Emma.
Mrs. Weston’s friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella’s sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew older—and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence—to have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston—no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have their powers in exercise again. “She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me,” she continued—“like La Baronne d’Almane on La Comtesse d’Ostalis, in Madame de Genlis’ Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan.”
Mrs Weston (Miss Taylor)'s baby. Emma feels Mrs. Weston was able to 'practice' on her. This baby has a mother in Mrs. Weston and a 'sister' in Emma.
languor of ill-health.
This is interesting. In the previous chapter, there is a nostalgia for overcoming childhood illness, but in this chapter, ill health in ladies is something commmonplace that influences one's schedule and connections.
Poor little Emma! You were very bad with the measles; that is, you would have been very bad, but for Perry’s great attention. He came four times a day for a week. He said, from the first, it was a very good sort—which was our great comfort; but the measles are a dreadful complaint. I hope whenever poor Isabella’s little ones have the measles, she will send for Perry.”
Childhood disease and the survival of it as germane to childhood.
rs. Weston, who is carefulness itself. Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said, so many years ago, when I had the measles? ‘If Miss Taylor undertakes to wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.’ How often have I heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!”
In Persuasion, nursing does not belong to a man, it isn't his province, and here in Emma is a description of nursing a child as a compliment to womanhood.
Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to hear it.”
The dancing and talking and giggling seem to remind of Georgian childhood ideals. Is there a positioning by Austen in here where being rich or part of the leisure class offers some extension of certain childhood pleasures?
enry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama. Henry is the eldest, he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second, is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They are all remarkably clever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will come and stand by my chair, and say, ‘Grandpapa, can you give me a bit of string?’ and once Henry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives were only made for grandpapas. I think their father is too rough with them very often.” “He appears rough to you,” said Emma, “because you are so very gentle yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas, you would not think him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy; and if they misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is an affectionate father—certainly Mr. John Knightley is an affectionate father. The children are all fond of him.” “And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling in a very frightful way!” “But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much. It is such enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down the rule of their taking turns, whichever began would never give way to the other.” “Well, I cannot understand it.” “That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.”
Descriptions of the boys. I wondered why the effort to describe them when they are not thought of as primary characters. Is it that they give hints to the personalities of the main characters or are these attempts by Austen to describe people in her life and a little nod to nephews, siblings or other children she knows? From my understanding of her life, she was delighted with and invested in her role as aunt. It is interesting to read her books with this in mind.
“Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while my brother and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased with the children. We are very proud of the children, are not we, papa? I wonder which she will think the handsomest, Henry or John?”
Tandem of brothers to match the two sisters: Emma and Isabella.
“But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back so soon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to stay longer with us. She and the children might stay very well.”
Concern for Isabella's health and the children is interesting in light of our understanding that Emma's mother died. Did she die in childbirth? Did Emma also lose a sibling?
CHARADE.
Is this really a game for adults? Or it is something more common to children and adolescents?
Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him, that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. He was not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in some of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore better than she had expected.
Emma is relieved the man is not a 'child of fortune'--which is a disparaging term that she doesn't see in herself.
But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from a child, must be a better judge of her character, and of how she is likely to conduct herself in critical situations, than I can be.” “I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been children and women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should be intimate,—that we should have taken to each other whenever she visited her friends. But we never did. I hardly know how it has happened; a little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to take disgust towards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always was, by her aunt and grandmother, and all their set. And then, her reserve—I never could attach myself to any one so completely reserved.” “It is a most repulsive quality, indeed,” said he. “Oftentimes very convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve, but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.”
Jane Fairfax as a child being described in ways that provide the opposite of Emma's description earlier.
“She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means just nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she cared for.
It is a fair argument that in Austen's time, to marry is to finish resigning childhood or maybe formally committing to the attempt at bearing and raising children?
“There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as that,”—said Mr. Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done. “But I,” he soon added, “who have had no such charm thrown over my senses, must still see, hear, and remember. Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest of her family. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able to answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was always quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since she was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all. In her mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits her mother’s talents, and must have been under subjection to her.”
More insight into Emma's childhood and the development of her personality. Clever, assured, confident, competent. We also learn that Emma is like her mother and therefore, it is reasonable to assume that she does what her mother might do if she were here.
twelve
Insight into Emma's childhood personality--reading, drawing, and lists.
Harriet
Does Emma see Harriet, not so much as a person to find a husband for as a surrogate child to worry about?
Goddard
What happens to children who are not as wealthy but who are orphaned...they go to a school like Mrs. Goddard's. So now the number of people in the book without a mother in childhood is 4 (Emma, Isabella, Frank, and Harriet).
father
Mr. Churchill's mother also died, as did Emma's. His stand in mother was Mr. Weston's sister? From this vantage point, he and Emma seem to have this thing in common that would give rise to a similar personality?
remembrance
Suggestion here that mother's caresses are or can be an integral part of childhood and remembering them is important to adult personality.
two
There is potential for a bond of sisterhood here like in other novels, but it doesn't materialize. Nonetheless, we have a sense of Emma's childhood with a widower and a governess who took up some of the mothering.
childhood
In a wealthy family, would your mother have done this, or would a governess or nanny done it?
Emma this holiday season!
A party is a party, but a holiday party ... mmmm. :)