Fanny looked on and listened, not unamused to observe the selfishness
which, more or less disguised, seemed to govern them all, and wondering
how it would end.
Three of the characters were now cast, besides Mr. Rushworth, who was
always answered for by Maria as willing to do anything; when Julia,
meaning, like her sister, to be Agatha, began to be scrupulous on Miss
Crawford's account.
"This is not behaving well by the absent," said she. "Here are not women
enough. Amelia and Agatha may do for Maria and me, but here is nothing
for your sister, Mr. Crawford."
Mr. Crawford desired _that_ might not be thought of; he was very sure
his sister had no wish of acting but as she might be useful, and that
she would not allow herself to be considered in the present case. But
this was immediately opposed by Tom Bertram, who asserted the part of
Amelia to be in every respect the property of Miss Crawford, if she
would accept it. "It falls as naturally as necessarily to her," said he,
"as Agatha does to one or other of my sisters. It can be no sacrifice on
their side, for it is highly comic."
A short silence followed. Each sister looked anxious; for each felt the
best claim to Agatha, and was hoping to have it pressed on her by the
rest. Henry Crawford, who meanwhile had taken up the play, and with
seeming carelessness was turning over the first act, soon settled
the business.
"I must entreat Miss _Julia_ Bertram," said he, "not to engage in the
part of Agatha, or it will be the ruin of all my solemnity. You must
not, indeed you must not [turning to her]. I could not stand your
countenance dressed up in woe and paleness. The many laughs we have had
together would infallibly come across me, and Frederick and his knapsack
would be obliged to run away."
Pleasantly, courteously, it was spoken; but the manner was lost in the
matter to Julia's feelings. She saw a glance at Maria, which confirmed
the injury to herself: it was a scheme, a trick; she was slighted, Maria
was preferred; the smile of triumph which Maria was trying to suppress
showed how well it was understood: and before Julia could command
herself enough to speak, her brother gave his weight against her too,
by saying, "Oh yes! Maria must be Agatha. Maria will be the best Agatha.
Though Julia fancies she prefers tragedy, I would not trust her in it.
There is nothing of tragedy about her. She has not the look of it. Her
features are not tragic features, and she walks too quick, and speaks
too quick, and would not keep her countenance. She had better do the old
countrywoman--the Cottager's wife; you had, indeed, Julia. Cottager's
wife is a very pretty part, I assure you. The old lady relieves the
high-flown benevolence of her husband with a good deal of spirit. You
shall be the Cottager's wife."
"Cottager's wife!" cried Mr. Yates. "What are you talking of? The most
trivial, paltry, insignificant part; the merest commonplace; not a
tolerable speech in the whole. Your sister do that! It is an insult to
propose it. At Ecclesford the governess was to have done it. We all
agreed that it could not be offered to anybody else. A little more
justice, Mr. Manager, if you please. You do not deserve the office if
you cannot appreciate the talents of your company a little better."
"Why, as to _that_, my good friends, till I and my company have really
acted, there must be some guesswork; but I mean no disparagement to
Julia. We cannot have two Agathas, and we must have one Cottager's wife;
and I am sure I set her the example of moderation myself in being
satisfied with the old Butler. If the part is trifling she will have
more credit in making something of it: and if she is so desperately bent
against everything humorous, let her take Cottager's speeches instead of
Cottager's wife's, and so change the parts all through; _he_ is solemn
and pathetic enough, I am sure. It could make no difference in the play;
and as for Cottager himself, when he has got his wife's speeches, _I_
would undertake him with all my heart."
"With all your partiality for Cottager's wife," said Henry Crawford, "it
will be impossible to make anything of it fit for your sister, and we
must not suffer her good nature to be imposed on. We must not _allow_
her to accept the part. She must not be left to her own complaisance.
Her talents will be wanted in Amelia. Amelia is a character more
difficult to be well represented than even Agatha. I consider Amelia as
the most difficult character in the whole piece. It requires great
powers, great nicety, to give her playfulness and simplicity without
extravagance. I have seen good actresses fail in the part. Simplicity,
indeed, is beyond the reach of almost every actress by profession. It
requires a delicacy of feeling which they have not. It requires a
gentlewoman--a Julia Bertram. You _will_ undertake it, I hope?" turning
to her with a look of anxious entreaty, which softened her a little; but
while she hesitated what to say, her brother again interposed with Miss
Crawford's better claim.
"No, no, Julia must not be Amelia. It is not at all the part for her.
She would not like it. She would not do well. She is too tall and
robust. Amelia should be a small, light, girlish, skipping figure. It is
fit for Miss Crawford, and Miss Crawford only. She looks the part, and I
am persuaded will do it admirably."
Without attending to this, Henry Crawford continued his supplication.
"You must oblige us," said he, "indeed you must. When you have studied
the character I am sure you will feel it suits you. Tragedy may be your
choice, but it will certainly appear that comedy chooses _you_. You will
have to visit me in prison with a basket of provisions; you will not
refuse to visit me in prison? I think I see you coming in with
your basket."
The influence of his voice was felt. Julia wavered; but was he only
trying to soothe and pacify her, and make her overlook the previous
affront? She distrusted him. The slight had been most determined. He
was, perhaps, but at treacherous play with her. She looked suspiciously
at her sister; Maria's countenance was to decide it; if she were vexed
and alarmed--but Maria looked all serenity and satisfaction, and Julia
well knew that on this ground Maria could not be happy but at her
expense. With hasty indignation, therefore, and a tremulous voice, she
said to him, "You do not seem afraid of not keeping your countenance
when I come in with a basket of provisions--though one might have
supposed--but it is only as Agatha that I was to be so overpowering!"
She stopped, Henry Crawford looked rather foolish, and as if he did not
know what to say. Tom Bertram began again:--
"Miss Crawford must be Amelia. She will be an excellent Amelia."
"Do not be afraid of _my_ wanting the character," cried Julia, with
angry quickness: "I am _not_ to be Agatha, and I am sure I will do
nothing else; and as to Amelia, it is of all parts in the world the
most disgusting to me. I quite detest her. An odious little, pert,
unnatural, impudent girl. I have always protested against comedy, and
this is comedy in its worst form." And so saying, she walked hastily out
of the room, leaving awkward feelings to more than one, but exciting
small compassion in any except Fanny, who had been a quiet auditor of
the whole, and who could not think of her as under the agitations of
_jealousy_ without great pity....
The inattention of the two brothers and the aunt to Julia's
discomposure, and their blindness to its true cause, must be imputed to
the fullness of their own minds. They were totally preoccupied. Tom was
engrossed by the concerns of his theatre, and saw nothing that did not
immediately relate to it. Edmund, between his theatrical and his real
part--between Miss Crawford's claims and his own conduct--between love
and consistency, was equally unobservant: and Mrs. Norris was too busy
in contriving and directing the general little matters of the company,
superintending their various dresses with economical expedients, for
which nobody thanked her, and saving, with delighted integrity,
half-a-crown here and there to the absent Sir Thomas, to have leisure
for watching the behavior, or guarding the happiness, of his daughters.