Harriet Smith: Caught in a Maze

Astley’s Amphitheatre,1807, by Rowlandson, Museum of London

Mrs. Isabella Knightley looked with concern at her guest. Pretty little Harriet Smith was usually the most cheerful, happy natured young lady, but just now she was leaning on the sofa in a despondent, listless posture, and not seeming to even notice Isabella’s five children, who were romping at their feet, in various states of frisk and noise. As Harriet normally loved to play with the children, and made herself the most useful guest possible, Isabella ventured a question.

“Miss Smith – may I ask? Are you in pain – are your teeth hurting still?”

Harriet roused herself to smile and demur. “Oh! no, Mrs. Knightley, I do assure you. The tooth-pulling was hard, I cannot deny; but you know it is better when it is all over, and I have felt no bad sensations now for at least a week.”

Emma had arranged for Harriet to stay with her sister Isabella’s family in London, in order to consult the best dentist, as there were wisdom teeth to remove. If any wry thought, that the extraction of any part of Harriet’s wisdom might be to her detriment came to her mind, Emma did not venture on that bon mot to anybody. She was trying to become a kinder person, and in the first rapture of her engagement with Mr. Knightley she was beginning to feel that it might not be altogether difficult to achieve.

But she had another motive. With much of the blame attaching to herself for her foolish womanly practice of match-making and speculation, of thinking she was in the secret of every one’s heart, Emma had most unwisely encouraged Harriet in her own follies and fancies, and the younger girl had spent the last year being exasperatingly in love with three different men, none of whom cared a bean about her. She had been besotted, sequentially, with the handsome vicar, Mr. Elton, who had been making up to Emma and then married another; Mr. Frank Churchill, who had all the time been nursing a deep love for Jane Fairfax; and finally and most absurdly of all had fancied herself the beloved object of Mr. Knightley. It had been a terrible shock when Emma had to break the news of her own engagement to that gentleman; and the painful embarrassment, the knowledge that her own flattery and encouragement of Harriet’s silly foibles made her so very greatly to blame, were part of the reason that Emma had been at pains to settle Harriet with the John Knightley family in London for a month or two. Isabella had been delighted to receive her, and glad for her to stay as long as she might, her being so agreeable as well as usefully attentive to the little children.

Harriet tried to look more cheerful, and reached for her sewing materials to work on the doll’s frock she was making for little Isabella. The child leant against her knee and began confiding about the trimming she desired. Isabella smiled approvingly at Harriet, and went back to her own sewing, undisturbed by the noise of her two oldest boys running in circles about the sitting-room.

Harriet might have eased Isabella’s worry about her for the moment, but she was not happy. It was not her teeth that were at fault, but her heart. Though not very wise, she knew now, beyond all doubt, that she had been a fool, and she felt the burden of that knowledge. It was as if she had been lost in a maze for many months, turning one way and then another. From being so happy in the intentions and declarations of good Mr. Robert Martin, the young farmer who had loved her so much, Harriet had been persuaded by Miss Woodhouse that he was too low and unsuitable a match for her; and she had dared to look higher – and higher.

Harriet would not blame Miss Woodhouse; it was not her fault. Miss Woodhouse was so very clever, and could not be wrong. It was only her love and partiality for Harriet that made her imagine that she was worthy of a high match, and Harriet felt only gratitude for her esteem. No, it was Harriet’s own fault, and only her fault, that she had been so self-deceived, and made herself believe that each of these high born gentlemen were possible mates for herself. Her folly had risen highest in the case of Mr. Knightley, in actually believing herself the beloved of such a man, without any assurance of such sentiments from him: oh, how could she have dared? She blushed when she thought of it, and felt herself too mortified to ever look Miss Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley in the face again.

But even that humiliation was slight – it was nothing , for she knew it was only too well deserved, and she would have to accept the mortification as punishment due. By far the worse evil, indeed the only evil, was the loss of Mr. Martin, by her own selfsame unspeakable folly. She knew her own heart now, and knew that she had really loved only him. He was the suitable match, the man with whom she could be safe, well beloved, and happy. But what were his feelings now? She had not seen him for months. Was he meeting other girls? Had he fallen in love with some one else? It would only be right if her place in his heart and by his side was supplanted – she deserved no less than such a fate. But oh, if only he still cared for her! That, however, was what Harriet, grown penitent and humble again, could not dare to think.

Mrs. Knightley looked with satisfaction at the ruffle Harriet had completed. “Isn’t that pretty, Isabella dear,” she said. “And Henry and John, Miss Harriet will sew your boat sails for you tomorrow, I am sure. But now, it is time for us to be getting ready. This is the night we are going to Astley’s, you know – you have not forgotten, Harriet? And you must wear something pretty.”

“Oh, no, I have not forgot,” said Harriet, languidly tucking away her sewing things. She tried to rouse herself. “Won’t it be exciting! Astley’s is supposed to be the biggest theatre in the world, and how wonderful it is, Henry and John, that you are old enough to go there now.”

The boys jumped up and down with delight. “We are! And we will see wild beasts, won’t we?”

“We will see trained beasts, I believe,” Harriet told them, “the horses especially are trained to do the most amazing things. Why, a clown rides standing up, bare-back – only think what wonders we shall see!”

“I can  hardly wait!” cried Henry.

Isabella summoned the maid to take the little boys away to be dressed. “We must leave early, you know, because there is to be an extra person in our party.”

“Is there?” asked Harriet, with little interest.

“Yes; a gentleman has come to town on business for Mr. Knightley, and he was at his chambers this afternoon. John has invited him to accompany us, and it has been arranged that we will stop at his lodgings to collect him on the way. You are acquainted with him – it is Mr. Robert Martin.”

“Mr. Robert Martin!” Harriet exclaimed, in something like shock.

“Why, yes; I hope you have no objection? You know Mr. Martin, from Highbury of course – I believe you have been staying with his sisters sometimes. I am sure you are aware that Mr. Knightley thinks extremely highly of him. So my husband thought he would be a good addition to our party, and Astley’s will be a fine new amusement for some one who lives in a country town. I expect you will find it so yourself.”

“To be sure,” said Harriet, almost in a dream.

“So will you wear your white muslin? Should you like to borrow my cloak with the silver trim?”

“Yes – yes – thank you – I had better hurry,” and the agitated girl sped away. Mrs. Knightley smiled to herself. If she knew any thing of the story of Harriet’s romance from her sister, she had betrayed nothing.

There was no lack of talk in the Knightleys’ carriage, in which they were joined by Mr. Martin. The little boys were full of excitement about the horse tricks they were to see, Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were pleased with every one’s enjoyment, and though Mr. Martin and Harriet did no more than gaze at each other shyly, it may be that their enjoyment at seeing one another again was greatest of all the party.

Astley’s Amphitheatre, in the Strand, was the great wonder of the age; the famous showman Philip Astley had become a legendary figure with his creation of the grandest of theatres and its extravagant shows. All manner of people attended, from high to low, and sat in their places accordingly; the more common sort crowded together down-stairs, the more elegant patrons, such as the Knightley party, in private boxes. Mr. Martin was seated beside Harriet, and perhaps he gazed at her profile and her blushing cheeks as much as he did at the promenading horses, clowns and harlequins below, and the tight-rope artists who risked their lives above. Certainly it was a show such as none of the party had ever seen before and each member was as delighted, in his or her own way, as much as could possibly be.

Astley’s Amphitheatre poster, V & A museum

At the end, amidst the thunderous applause and huzzahs, Mr. John Knightley, a quiet, dry-humored man not given to running away with his feelings, looked down at his boys with positive pleasure. “Well, what did you like best, Henry? John?”

“Oh, the horses! I never thought I would see a horse dancing a hornpipe, did you Papa?”

“No, I must say I never did imagine such a thing.”

“And the dancing on horseback – and even playing the violin!”

“It was very wonderful,” agreed Isabella, “but the pantomines were most delightful. Neptune! and the Dwarfs! and the Mandarin!”

“Rather outlandish,” observed John Knightley, “but the tumbling was the cleverest ever seen, I do think. And to walk on a tight-rope like that, at such a height. I don’t know how they do it.”

“I never dreamed of any thing like such fire-works,” said Mr. Martin, looking at Harriet. “Did you, Miss Smith?”

“Those fire-works! They made it like fairy-land. Oh, Mr. Martin, this has been the most delightful night of my life,” she enthused.

“Well, but all good things come to an end, and now we must be getting out of this crowd,” said Mr. Knightley seriously. “We do not want to be trampled, while leaving the box.”

Isabella was alarmed. “It is very dangerous. We have never been in such a crowd in our lives, my dear! The little boys will be swept away!”

“Surely not, my love. You and I must walk on either side of John, and hold hands, and Mr. Martin and Miss Smith will take Henry. You are equal to it, are not you, sir?”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Martin stoutly. “Henry is a big boy and will take great care, I know. We will follow along directly behind you. Do not be concerned, Mrs. Knightley.”

Trembling, Isabella clung to her husband’s arm, and they proceeded through the crowd. After only a few steps, however, some rowdies broke in between the two groupings, and Mr. Martin, Harriet and Henry found themselves several steps away from the others, so that they could only see Mr. John Knightley’s tall head in front.

“Oh, we will be lost, Mr. Martin – we will lose the Knightleys!” cried Harriet in terror.

“Indeed not, Miss Smith, I assure you we are safe. I have Mr.  Knightley in sight all the time. Here, hold my arm; and Henry, hold tight to my other hand.

They felt the connection between them for the first time, and Harriet looked up at Mr. Martin with no less than complete trust. “Thank you. I feel much more secure,” she said thankfully.

“I am glad. It is a rather thick crowd, and some are rowdy; but we have only to get down the stairs, and then walk to where the Knightleys’ carriage will be waiting. We will be quite safe.”

“I am so glad you are here to take care of us,” Harriet sighed. “I should be quite frightened to be lost in such a maze of a place, without you.”

“You feel as if you are lost in a maze, do you?”

“I have felt that way, yes, for a long time,” she said low, “but I don’t now.”

“I am glad that you feel safe with me,” he responded, and gave her arm a little squeeze. “There is the passage, and at the end of it the door. The Knightleys are just ahead. Only another moment, Harriet – Miss Smith, I mean.”

The party joined together again, and all were thankfully landed in the carriage, which began to move off.

“There now you see, Isabella, there was no danger,” her husband reassured her, “and we will be back at Mr. Martins’ lodgings in a trice, and then back at home.”

“We will be sorry to part with you, Mr. Martins,” said Isabella cordially. “You took such very good care of little Henry, and of Harriet too of course – we owe you a great debt of thanks for that.”

“We do indeed, but I expected no less of Mr. Martin, knowing he is always to be depended upon,” nodded Mr. Knightley. “What an amusing evening it has been, has it not? It is a real pity to end the good time. Will you therefore do us the favour of dining with us to-morrow, Mr. Martin?”

Mr. Martin, preparing to disembark from the carriage, accepted the invitation with the warmest gratitude. “I will be very glad,” he said, “I do not return to Highbury until the next day.”

“We will see you at four o’clock then,” said Mr. Knightley, and the door was shut on the party, with Mr. Martin smiling beatifically as he watched the carriage roll away.

There was nothing remarkable in the dinner the following day, but all enjoyed the potato soup, the fricassee of chicken and mushrooms, some asparagus, and a fish pie. There was an arrangement of biscuits, macaroons and a fine apricot ice, to finish, but Isabella did not linger for a moment after the last bit of ice was spooned up. She declared she had to oversee the putting-to-bed of her little ones, and once their guests were comfortably settled in the sitting room with their glasses of port, Mr. John Knightley left the room as well, with some slight murmured excuse about the boys wanting him to read them a bed-time story. He was sure Miss Smith and Mr. Martin would not mind his absence for a short while. If he suspected any thing, and smiled to himself as he went upstairs, nobody ever knew it.

For it was when they were alone that Mr. Martin told Harriet, directly and with great earnestness, that he had never ceased to love her. She immediately, despite her fluttered feelings, and mixed joy and confusion rendering her almost too overpowered to speak, replied that she felt just the same. A cynic might ask, what about her feelings for Mr. Elton, Mr. Churchill, and Mr. Knightley; but if she had been in a state to explain, she would have said that she had never felt real love for them, and so they did not count. She knew and felt that she was no longer in the fearful maze that had engulfed her for so long, and she never would be again. That she could ever have been so mistaken, was amazing; but it was forgotten. Robert Martin was the only man she had ever loved, or could ever love, and she assured him of it with the most feeling certainty.

With this exchange the two entered the state of perfect happiness; and Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley had the news to hear as soon as they came down-stairs again. If they were not surprised, and if there had not been some maneuvering to bring about this event, they never said a word about it.