Emma Woodhouse and Harriet Smith

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence. The real evils of her situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself. It was into this context that Harriet Smith, a girl of seventeen, the natural daughter of somebody, entered as a parlour-boarder at Mrs. Goddard's school. Emma was immediately struck by Harriet's beauty—short, plump, and fair, with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great sweetness—and determined to continue the acquaintance. She saw in Harriet a project: she would notice her, improve her, detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good society. It would be an interesting and very kind undertaking, highly becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers. For Mrs. Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.

The Arc of Influence and Misguided Matchmaking

Emma's first attempts at usefulness were in endeavouring to find out who Harriet's parents were, but Harriet could not tell. Emma was obliged to fancy what she liked, but she could never believe that in the same situation she should not have discovered the truth. Harriet had no penetration. Emma soon suspected danger to her poor little friend from the hospitality and kindness of the Martin family of Abbey-Mill Farm, particularly from the single Mr. Robert Martin. With this inspiriting notion, she led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin, and there was evidently no dislike to it. Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no alarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer, but she trusted there was no other hold. Emma fixed on Mr. Elton, the vicar, as the very person for driving the young farmer out of Harriet's head. She thought it would be an excellent match; only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense of its expediency. Mr. Elton's situation was most suitable, quite the gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not of any family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet. Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy a proper direction. She found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr. Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners. She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love, if not in love already. When Harriet received a proposal of marriage from Mr. Martin, Emma persuaded her to refuse it, arguing that if a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. Harriet, after some hesitation, determined to refuse Mr. Martin, and Emma approved, saying it would have grieved her to lose Harriet's acquaintance, which must have been the consequence of her marrying Mr. Martin. Harriet, looking aghast, cried, "You could not have visited me!" and Emma confirmed, "Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you; but it must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society. I must have given you up." Harriet then declared she would not give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with Miss Woodhouse for any thing in the world.

The Collapse of Emma's Schemes and the Strain on Friendship

Emma's matchmaking plans for Harriet and Mr. Elton collapsed utterly when Mr. Elton, instead of proposing to Harriet, made violent love to Emma herself in the carriage on the way home from Randalls. Emma was horrified, realizing she had been completely mistaken. She felt the first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. She had actually talked poor Harriet into being very much attached to this man. Harriet might never have thought of him but for her. The distressing explanation she had to make to Harriet was a severe penance. She had to destroy all the hopes which she had been so industriously feeding. The confession completely renewed her first shame, and the sight of Harriet's tears made her think that she should never be in charity with herself again. Harriet bore the intelligence very well, blaming nobody, and testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion of herself. Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost. She left Harriet with every previous resolution confirmed of being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the rest of her life. Her second duty now, inferior only to her father's claims, was to promote Harriet's comfort, and endeavour to prove her own affection in some better method than by match-making.

The Gypsy Incident and a New Misunderstanding

A new turn came when Frank Churchill rescued Harriet from a group of gypsies. Emma, ever the imaginist, saw this as a promising circumstance to throw them together. She thought it was a very extraordinary thing, and that it seemed as if every thing united to promise the most interesting consequences. She resolved, however, not to stir a step, nor drop a hint. She had had enough of interference. But Harriet's heart had already been captured by another. When Emma later discovered that Harriet's "precious treasures"—a piece of court-plaister and the end of an old pencil—were relics of Mr. Elton, she was amused and ashamed. But soon after, when Harriet declared she would never marry, Emma probed and found that Harriet's affections had shifted to a man she considered "so superior to Mr. Elton." Emma, believing this to be Frank Churchill, encouraged her, saying it was natural and honourable to chuse so well and so gratefully. She gave her caution, but said, "more wonderful things have taken place, there have been matches of greater disparity." This was a fatal encouragement.

The Revelation and the True Object of Harriet's Affection

The truth came crashing down when Frank Churchill's secret engagement to Jane Fairfax was revealed. Emma, dreading the task of telling Harriet, found to her astonishment that Harriet already knew and was not at all distressed. When Emma asked if she had imagined Frank Churchill attached to another woman, Harriet cried, "Him!—never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?" She then revealed that the man she had been speaking of was Mr. Knightley. Emma was struck with the speed of an arrow that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed her before. How improperly had she been acting by Harriet! How inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational, how unfeeling had been her conduct! What blindness, what madness, had led her on! She listened with much inward suffering to Harriet's detailed account of Mr. Knightley's attentions, which confirmed her worst fears. Emma was in a state of wretchedness, feeling that she had brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and too much feared, on Mr. Knightley.

Resolution and the Natural Sinking of Intimacy

The crisis was resolved when Mr. Knightley proposed to Emma, and Harriet, soon after, accepted Robert Martin's second proposal. Emma was overjoyed, feeling the sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the prospect of Harriet's welfare. She was in danger of becoming too happy for security. She had to laugh at such a close! Such an end of the doleful disappointment of five weeks back! Such a heart—such a Harriet! Harriet's parentage became known: she proved to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her a comfortable maintenance. Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the world, or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself. Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins, was less and less at Hartfield, which was not to be regretted. The intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be, and must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural manner. Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as no remembrances could impair.