Jane

Austen

Sense and Sensibility

Vernunft und Gefühl

Übersetzt von Erika Gröger, Lizenz der Aufbau Verlagsgruppe
Synchronisation und Ergänzungen © Doppeltext 2012

TITELBLATT

VOLUME I

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

VOLUME II

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

VOLUME III

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

IMPRESSUM

VOLUME I

CHAPTER I

The fam­ily of Dash­wood had long been settled in Sus­sex.
Their es­tate was large, and their res­id­ence was at Nor­land Park, in the centre of their prop­erty,
where, for many gen­er­a­tions, they had lived in so re­spect­able a man­ner as to en­gage the gen­er­al good opin­ion of their sur­round­ing ac­quaint­ance.
The late own­er of this es­tate was a single man, who lived to a very ad­vanced age,
and who for many years of his life, had a con­stant com­pan­ion and house­keep­er in his sis­ter.
But her death, which happened ten years be­fore his own, pro­duced a great al­ter­a­tion in his home;
for to sup­ply her loss, he in­vited and re­ceived into his house the fam­ily of his neph­ew Mr. Henry Dash­wood,
the leg­al in­her­it­or of the Nor­land es­tate, and the per­son to whom he in­ten­ded to be­queath it.
In the so­ci­ety of his neph­ew and niece, and their chil­dren, the old Gen­tle­man’s days were com­fort­ably spent. His at­tach­ment to them all in­creased.
The con­stant at­ten­tion of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dash­wood to his wishes, which pro­ceeded not merely from in­terest, but from good­ness of heart,
gave him every de­gree of sol­id com­fort which his age could re­ceive; and the cheer­ful­ness of the chil­dren ad­ded a rel­ish to his ex­ist­ence.
By a former mar­riage, Mr. Henry Dash­wood had one son: by his present lady, three daugh­ters. The son, a steady re­spect­able young man,
was amply provided for by the for­tune of his moth­er, which had been large, and half of which de­volved on him on his com­ing of age.
By his own mar­riage, like­wise, which happened soon af­ter­wards, he ad­ded to his wealth.
To him there­fore the suc­ces­sion to the Nor­land es­tate was not so really im­port­ant as to his sis­ters;
for their for­tune, in­de­pend­ent of what might arise to them from their fath­er’s in­her­it­ing that prop­erty, could be but small.
Their moth­er had noth­ing, and their fath­er only sev­en thou­sand pounds in his own dis­pos­al;
for the re­main­ing moi­ety of his first wife’s for­tune was also se­cured to her child, and he had only a life-in­terest in it.
The old gen­tle­man died: his will was read, and like al­most every oth­er will, gave as much dis­ap­point­ment as pleas­ure.
He was neither so un­just, nor so un­grate­ful, as to leave his es­tate from his neph­ew;
— but he left it to him on such terms as des­troyed half the value of the be­quest.
Mr. Dash­wood had wished for it more for the sake of his wife and daugh­ters than for him­self or his son;
— but to his son, and his son’s son, a child of four years old, it was se­cured, in such a way,
as to leave to him­self no power of provid­ing for those who were most dear to him,
and who most needed a pro­vi­sion by any charge on the es­tate, or by any sale of its valu­able woods.
The whole was tied up for the be­ne­fit of this child, who, in oc­ca­sion­al vis­its with his fath­er and moth­er at Nor­land,
had so far gained on the af­fec­tions of his uncle, by such at­trac­tions as are by no means un­usu­al in chil­dren of two or three years old;
an im­per­fect ar­tic­u­la­tion, an earn­est de­sire of hav­ing his own way, many cun­ning tricks, and a great deal of noise,
as to out­weigh all the value of all the at­ten­tion which, for years, he had re­ceived from his niece and her daugh­ters.
He meant not to be un­kind, however, and, as a mark of his af­fec­tion for the three girls, he left them a thou­sand pounds a-piece.
Mr. Dash­wood’s dis­ap­point­ment was, at first, severe; but his tem­per was cheer­ful and san­guine;
and he might reas­on­ably hope to live many years, and by liv­ing eco­nom­ic­ally,
lay by a con­sid­er­able sum from the pro­duce of an es­tate already large, and cap­able of al­most im­me­di­ate im­prove­ment.
But the for­tune, which had been so tardy in com­ing, was his only one twelve­month.
He sur­vived his uncle no longer; and ten thou­sand pounds, in­clud­ing the late legacies, was all that re­mained for his wid­ow and daugh­ters.
His son was sent for as soon as his danger was known,
and to him Mr. Dash­wood re­com­men­ded, with all the strength and ur­gency which ill­ness could com­mand, the in­terest of his moth­er-in-law and sis­ters.
Mr. John Dash­wood had not the strong feel­ings of the rest of the fam­ily;
but he was af­fected by a re­com­mend­a­tion of such a nature at such a time,
and he prom­ised to do every thing in his power to make them com­fort­able.
His fath­er was rendered easy by such an as­sur­ance, and Mr. John Dash­wood had then leis­ure to con­sider
how much there might prudently be in his power to do for them.
He was not an ill-dis­posed young man, un­less to be rather cold hearted and rather selfish is to be ill-dis­posed:
but he was, in gen­er­al, well re­spec­ted; for he con­duc­ted him­self with pro­pri­ety in the dis­charge of his or­din­ary du­ties.
Had he mar­ried a more ami­able wo­man, he might have been made still more re­spect­able than he was:
— he might even have been made ami­able him­self; for he was very young when he mar­ried, and very fond of his wife.
But Mrs. John Dash­wood was a strong ca­ri­ca­ture of him­self; — more nar­row-minded and selfish.
When he gave his prom­ise to his fath­er, he med­it­ated with­in him­self to in­crease the for­tunes of his sis­ters by the present of a thou­sand pounds a-piece.
He then really thought him­self equal to it.
The pro­spect of four thou­sand a-year, in ad­di­tion to his present in­come,
be­sides the re­main­ing half of his own moth­er’s for­tune, warmed his heart, and made him feel cap­able of gen­er­os­ity.
— “Yes, he would give them three thou­sand pounds: it would be lib­er­al and hand­some! It would be enough to make them com­pletely easy.
Three thou­sand pounds! he could spare so con­sid­er­able a sum with little in­con­veni­ence.”
— He thought of it all day long, and for many days suc­cess­ively, and he did not re­pent.
No soon­er was his fath­er’s fu­ner­al over, than Mrs. John Dash­wood,
without send­ing any no­tice of her in­ten­tion to her moth­er-in-law, ar­rived with her child and their at­tend­ants.
No one could dis­pute her right to come; the house was her hus­band’s from the mo­ment of his fath­er’s de­cease;
but the in­del­ic­acy of her con­duct was so much the great­er, and to a wo­man in Mrs. Dash­wood’s situ­ation,
with only com­mon feel­ings, must have been highly un­pleas­ing;
— but in her mind there was a sense of hon­or so keen, a gen­er­os­ity so ro­mantic,
that any of­fence of the kind, by whom­so­ever giv­en or re­ceived, was to her a source of im­mov­able dis­gust.
Mrs. John Dash­wood had nev­er been a fa­vour­ite with any of her hus­band’s fam­ily;
but she had had no op­por­tun­ity, till the present, of shew­ing them
with how little at­ten­tion to the com­fort of oth­er people she could act when oc­ca­sion re­quired it.
So acutely did Mrs. Dash­wood feel this un­gra­cious be­ha­viour, and so earn­estly did she des­pise her daugh­ter-in-law for it,
that, on the ar­rival of the lat­ter, she would have quit­ted the house for ever,
had not the en­treaty of her eld­est girl in­duced her first to re­flect on the pro­pri­ety of go­ing,
and her own tender love for all her three chil­dren de­term­ined her af­ter­wards to stay, and for their sakes avoid a breach with their broth­er.
Elinor, this eld­est daugh­ter, whose ad­vice was so ef­fec­tu­al, pos­sessed a strength of un­der­stand­ing, and cool­ness of judg­ment,
which qual­i­fied her, though only nine­teen, to be the coun­sel­lor of her moth­er,
and en­abled her fre­quently to coun­ter­act, to the ad­vant­age of them all, that eager­ness of mind in Mrs. Dash­wood which must gen­er­ally have led to im­prudence.
She had an ex­cel­lent heart; — her dis­pos­i­tion was af­fec­tion­ate, and her feel­ings were strong; but she knew how to gov­ern them:
it was a know­ledge which her moth­er had yet to learn; and which one of her sis­ters had re­solved nev­er to be taught.
Mari­anne’s abil­it­ies were, in many re­spects, quite equal to Elinor’s.
She was sens­ible and clev­er; but eager in everything: her sor­rows, her joys, could have no mod­er­a­tion.
She was gen­er­ous, ami­able, in­ter­est­ing: she was everything but prudent. The re­semb­lance between her and her moth­er was strik­ingly great.
Elinor saw, with con­cern, the ex­cess of her sis­ter’s sens­ib­il­ity; but by Mrs. Dash­wood it was val­ued and cher­ished.
They en­cour­aged each oth­er now in the vi­ol­ence of their af­flic­tion.
The agony of grief which over­powered them at first, was vol­un­tar­ily re­newed, was sought for, was cre­ated again and again.
They gave them­selves up wholly to their sor­row, seek­ing in­crease of wretched­ness in every re­flec­tion that could af­ford it, and re­solved against ever ad­mit­ting con­sol­a­tion in fu­ture.
Elinor, too, was deeply af­flic­ted; but still she could struggle, she could ex­ert her­self.
She could con­sult with her broth­er, could re­ceive her sis­ter-in-law on her ar­rival, and treat her with prop­er at­ten­tion;
and could strive to rouse her moth­er to sim­il­ar ex­er­tion, and en­cour­age her to sim­il­ar for­bear­ance.
Mar­garet, the oth­er sis­ter, was a good-hu­mored, well-dis­posed girl;
but as she had already im­bibed a good deal of Mari­anne’s ro­mance, without hav­ing much of her sense,
she did not, at thir­teen, bid fair to equal her sis­ters at a more ad­vanced peri­od of life.

Jane Austen
Sense and Sensibility / Vernunft und Gefühl
Zweisprachige Ausgabe
Übersetzt von Erika Gröger

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Die Übersetzung erschien erstmals 1972 unter dem Titel Gefühl und Verstand im Aufbau-Verlag Berlin und Weimar; Textgrundlage der vorliegende Ausgabe ist die Neuausgabe, die 2008 unter dem Titel Vernunft und Gefühl im Aufbau Taschenbuch erschien.
Übersetzung © Aufbau Verlag GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin 1972, 2008

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