ANOTHER LETTER FROM JANE
Unfortunately we have not got Frank’s reply to his sister’s letter, but
we have her next letter to him dated about two months later, when she
was staying with Edward.
“Godmersham Park, _September 25, 1813_.
“MY DEAREST FRANK,--The 11th of this month brought me your
letter, and I assure you I thought it very well worth its two
and three-pence. I am very much obliged to you for filling me
so long a sheet of paper; you are a good one to traffic with
in that way, you pay most liberally; my letter was a scratch
of a note compared to yours, and then you write so even, so
clear, both in style and penmanship, so much to the point,
and give so much intelligence, that it is enough to kill one.
I am sorry Sweden is so poor, and my riddle so bad. The idea
of a fashionable bathing-place in Mecklenberg! How can people
pretend to be fashionable or to bathe out of England? Rostock
market makes one’s mouth water; our cheapest butcher’s meat
is double the price of theirs; nothing under nine-pence all
this summer, and I believe upon recollection nothing under
ten-pence. Bread has sunk and is likely to sink more, which we
hope may make meat sink too. But I have no occasion to think of
the price of bread or of meat where I am now; let me shake off
vulgar cares and conform to the happy indifference of East Kent
wealth. I wonder whether you and the King of Sweden knew that I
was to come to Godmersham with my brother. Yes, I suppose you
have received due notice of it by some means or other. I have
not been here these four years, so I am sure the event deserves
to be talked of before and behind, as well as in the middle. We
left Chawton on the 14th, spent two entire days in town, and
arrived here on the 17th. My brother, Fanny, Lizzie, Marianne,
and I composed this division of the family, and filled his
carriage inside and out. Two post-chaises, under the escort
of George, conveyed eight more across the country, the chair
brought two, two others came on horseback, and the rest by
coach, and so, by one means or another, we all are removed. It
puts me in remind of St. Paul’s shipwreck, when all are said,
by different means, to reach the shore in safety. I left my
mother, Cassandra, and Martha well, and have had good accounts
of them since. At present they are quite alone, but they are
going to be visited by Mrs. Heathcote and Miss Bigg, and to
have a few days of Henry’s company likewise.
“I expect to be here about two months, Edward is to be in
Hampshire again in November, and will take me back. I shall
be sorry to be in Kent so long without seeing Mary, but I am
afraid it must be so. She has very kindly invited me to Deal,
but is aware of the great improbability of my being able to
get there. It would be a great pleasure to me to see Mary Jane
again too, and her brothers, new and old. Charles and his
family I _do_ hope to see; they are coming here for a week
in October. We were accommodated in Henrietta Street. Henry
was so good as to find room for his three nieces and myself
in his house. Edward slept at a hotel in the next street.
No. 10 is made very comfortable with cleaning and painting,
and the Sloane Street furniture. The front room upstairs
is an excellent dining and common sitting parlour, and the
smaller one behind will sufficiently answer his purpose as a
drawing-room. He has no intention of giving large parties of
any kind. His plans are all for the comfort of his friends
and himself. Madame Bigeon and her daughter have a lodging
in his neighbourhood, and come to him as often as he likes,
or as they like. Madame B. always markets for him, as she
used to do, and, upon our being in the house, was constantly
there to do the work. She is wonderfully recovered from the
severity of her asthmatic complaint. Of our three evenings
in town, one was spent at the Lyceum, and another at Covent
Garden. “The Clandestine Marriage” was the most respectable
of the performances, the rest were sing-song and trumpery;
but it did very well for Lizzy and Marianne, who were indeed
delighted, but I wanted better acting. There was no actor worth
naming. I believe the theatres are thought at a very low ebb
at present. Henry has probably sent you his own account of
his visit in Scotland. I wish he had had more time, and could
have gone further north, and deviated to the lakes in his
way back; but what he was able to do seems to have afforded
him great enjoyment, and he met with scenes of higher beauty
in Roxburghshire than I had supposed the South of Scotland
possessed. Our nephew’s gratification was less keen than our
brother’s. Edward is no enthusiast in the beauties of nature.
His enthusiasm is for the sports of the field only. He is a
very promising and pleasing young man however, upon the whole,
behaves with great propriety to his father, and great kindness
to his brothers and sisters, and we must forgive his thinking
more of grouse and partridges than lakes and mountains. He
and George are out every morning either shooting or with the
harriers. They are good shots. Just at present I am mistress
and miss altogether here, Fanny being gone to Goodnestone
for a day or two, to attend the famous fair, which makes its
yearly distribution of gold paper and coloured persian through
all the family connections. In this house there is a constant
succession of small events, somebody is always going or coming;
this morning we had Edward Bridges unexpectedly to breakfast
with us, on his way from Ramsgate, where is his wife, to
Lenham, where is his church, and to-morrow he dines and sleeps
here on his return. They have been all the summer at Ramsgate
for her health; she is a poor honey--the sort of woman who
gives me the idea of being determined never to be well and who
likes her spasms and nervousness, and the consequence they
give her, better than anything else. This is an ill-natured
statement to send all over the Baltic. The Mr. Knatchbulls,
dear Mrs. Knight’s brothers, dined here the other day. They
came from the Friars, which is still on their hands. The elder
made many inquiries after you. Mr. Sherer is quite a new Mr.
Sherer to me; I heard him for the first time last Sunday, and
he gave us an excellent sermon, a little too eager sometimes
in his delivery, but that is to me a better extreme than the
want of animation, especially when it evidently comes from the
heart, as in him. The clerk is as much like you as ever. I am
always glad to see him on that account. But the Sherers are
going away. He has a bad curate at Westwell, whom he can eject
only by residing there himself. He goes nominally for three
years, and a Mr. Paget is to have the curacy of Godmersham; a
married man, with a very musical wife, which I hope may make
her a desirable acquaintance to Fanny.
“I thank you very warmly for your kind consent to my
application, and the kind hint which followed it. I was
previously aware of what I should be laying myself open to;
but the truth is that the secret has spread so far as to be
scarcely the shadow of a secret now, and that, I believe,
whenever the third appears, I shall not even attempt to tell
lies about it. I shall rather try to make all the money than
all the mystery I can of it. People shall pay for their
knowledge if I can make them. Henry heard P. and P. warmly
praised in Scotland by Lady Robert Kerr and another lady; and
what does he do, in the warmth of his brotherly vanity and
love, but immediately tell them who wrote it. A thing once
set going in that way--one knows how it spreads, and he, dear
creature, has set it going so much more than once. I know it
is all done from affection and partiality, but at the same
time let me here again express to you and Mary my sense of
the _superior_ kindness which you have shown on the occasion
in doing what I wished. I am trying to harden myself. After
all, what a trifle it is, in all its bearings, to the really
important points of one’s existence, even in this world.
“I take it for granted that Mary has told you of ----’s
engagement to ----. It came upon us without much preparation;
at the same time there was that about her which kept us in a
constant preparation for something. We are anxious to have it
go on well, there being quite as much in his favour as the
chances are likely to give her in any matrimonial connection.
I believe he is sensible, certainly very religious, well
connected, and with some independence. There is an unfortunate
dissimilarity of taste between them in one respect, which gives
us some apprehensions; he hates company, and she is very fond
of it; this, with some queerness of temper on his side, and
much unsteadiness on hers, is untoward. I hope Edward’s family
visit to Chawton will be yearly; he certainly means it now, but
we must not expect it to exceed _two_ months in future. I do
not think, however, that he found five too long this summer. He
was very happy there. The new paint improves their house much,
and we find no evil from the smell. Poor Mr. Trimmer is lately
dead, a sad loss to his family, and occasioning some anxiety to
our brother; for the present he continues his affairs in the
son’s hands, a matter of great importance to _them_. I hope he
will have no reason to remove his business.
“Your very affectionate sister,
“J. A.
“There is to be a second edition of S. and S. Egerton advises
it.”
At the time when this letter was written Charles was on the _Namur_, as
Flag-Captain to Sir Thomas Williams. His wife and two small children
lived with him on board, an arrangement of somewhat doubtful advantage.
In the published letters of Jane Austen there are some of the same date
as this one to Frank, written to Cassandra from Godmersham, and giving
an account of the visit of Charles and family which she was expecting
in October.
“_September 23._--Wrote to Charles yesterday, and Fanny has had a
letter from him to-day, principally to make inquiries about the time of
their visit here, to which mine was an answer beforehand; so he will
probably write again soon to fix his week.”
“_October 14._--A letter from Wrotham yesterday offering an early visit
here, and Mr. and Mrs. Moore and one child are to come on Monday for
ten days. I hope Charles and Fanny may not fix the same time, but if
they come at all in October they must. What is the use of hoping? The
two parties of children is the chief evil.”
“To be sure, here we are; the very thing has happened, or rather
worse--a letter from Charles this very morning, which gives us reason
to suppose they may come here to-day. It depends upon the weather, and
the weather now is very fine. No difficulties are made, however, and,
indeed, there will be no want of room; but I wish there was no Wigrams
and Lushingtons in the way to fill up the table, and make us such a
motley set. I cannot spare Mr. Lushington either because of his frank,
but Mr. Wigram does no good to anybody. I cannot imagine how a man can
have the impudence to come into a family party for three days, where
he is quite a stranger, unless he knows himself to be agreeable on
undoubted authority. I shall be most happy to see dear Charles.”
“_Friday, October 15._--They came last night at about seven. We had
given them up, but I still expected them to come. Dessert was nearly
over; a better time for arriving than an hour and a half earlier. They
were late because they did not set out earlier, and did not allow time
enough. Charles did not _aim_ at more than reaching Sittingbourne by
three, which could not have brought them here by dinner-time. They had
a very rough passage; he would not have ventured if he had known how
bad it would be.
“However, here they are, safe and well, just like their own nice
selves, Fanny looking as neat and white this morning as possible, and
dear Charles all affectionate, placid, quiet, cheerful good humour.
They are both looking well, but poor little Cassy is grown extremely
thin and looks poorly. I hope a week’s country air and exercise may do
her good. I am sorry to say it can be but a week. The baby does not
appear so large in proportion as she was, nor quite so pretty, but I
have seen very little of her. Cassy was too tired and bewildered just
at first to seem to know anybody. We met them in the hall, the women
and girl part of us, but before we reached the library she kissed me
very affectionately, and has since seemed to recollect me in the same
way. It was quite an evening of confusion, as you may suppose. At first
we were all walking about from one part of the house to the other, then
came a fresh dinner in the breakfast-room for Charles and his wife,
which Fanny and I attended. Then we moved into the library, were joined
by the dining-room people, were introduced, and so forth; and then we
had tea and coffee, which was not over till past ten. Billiards again
drew all the odd ones away, and Edward, Charles, the two Fannies, and
I sat snugly talking. I shall be glad to have our numbers a little
reduced, and by the time you receive this we shall be only a family,
though a large family, party.
[Illustration: MRS. CHARLES AUSTEN]
“I talked to Cassy about Chawton (Cassandra wished to have her there
for the winter). She remembers much, but does not volunteer on the
subject. Papa and mamma have not yet made up their minds as to parting
with her or not; the chief, indeed the only difficulty with mamma is a
very reasonable one, the child’s being very unwilling to leave them.
When it was mentioned to her she did not like the idea of it at all. At
the same time she has been suffering so much lately from sea-sickness
that her mamma cannot bear to have her much on board this winter.
Charles is less inclined to part with her. I do not know how it will
end, or what is to determine it. He desires best love to you, and has
not written because he has not been able to decide. They are both very
sensible of your kindness on the occasion. I have made Charles furnish
me with something to say about young Kendall. He is going on very well.
When he first joined the _Namur_ my brother did not find him forward
enough to be what they call put in the office, and therefore placed him
under the schoolmaster, and he is very much improved, and goes into the
office now every afternoon, still attending school in the morning.”
This is interesting as an example of the way in which the young men
learnt their work as midshipmen.
The domestic side of Charles’ character is always rather inclined to
obtrude itself. Perhaps it was of him that Jane was thinking when
Admiral Croft sums up James Benwick in the words, “An excellent,
good-hearted fellow I assure you, a very active, zealous officer, too,
which is more than you would think for perhaps, for that soft sort of
manner does not do him justice;” and when later on she protests against
the “too common idea of spirit and gentleness being incompatible with
each other.” Nevertheless, we have ample proof that both sisters
thought his domesticity somewhat overdone, though it is hardly fair to
quote even friendly criticism of such an intimate nature. One sentence
from a letter on October 18 gives the hint of what seems to have been
Charles’ one defect in the eyes of his sisters.
“I think I have just done a good deed--extracted Charles from his wife
and children upstairs, and made him get ready to go out shooting, and
not keep Mr. Moore waiting any longer.”
Before Jane’s death in 1817, Charles had opportunity to show the stuff
of which he was made, and from that time till his death in 1852, under
circumstances which called for great courage and endurance, he fully
realised her best hopes.
The question of Cassy living with her father and mother on the _Namur_
reminds one of the discussion in “Persuasion” as to the comforts of
ladies on board ship.
“The admiral, after taking two or three refreshing turns about the room
with his hands behind him, being called to order by his wife, now came
up to Captain Wentworth, and without any observation of what he might
be interrupting, thinking only of his own thoughts, began with--‘If you
had been a week later at Lisbon, last spring, Frederick, you would have
been asked to give a passage to Lady Mary Grierson and her daughters.’
“‘Should I? I am glad I was not a week later then.’”
The admiral abused him for his want of gallantry. He defended himself,
though professing that he would never willingly admit any ladies on
board a ship of his, excepting for a ball, or a visit, which a few
hours might comprehend. “But, if I know myself,” said he, “this is
from no want of gallantry towards them. It is rather from feeling how
impossible it is, with all one’s efforts and all one’s sacrifices, to
make the accommodations on board such as women ought to have. There can
be no want of gallantry, admiral, in rating the claims of women to
every personal comfort high, and this is what I do. I hate to hear of
women on board, or to see them on board, and no ship under my command
shall ever convey a family of ladies anywhere if I can help it.’”
This brought his sister upon him.
“‘Oh, Frederick! But I cannot believe it of you. All idle refinement!
Women may be as comfortable on board as in the best house in England. I
believe I have lived as much on board as most women, and I know nothing
superior to the accommodation of a man-of-war. I declare I have not a
comfort or an indulgence about me, even at Kellynch Hall’ (with a kind
bow to Anne), ‘beyond what I always had in most of the ships I have
lived in, and they have been five altogether.’
“‘Nothing to the purpose,’ replied her brother. ‘You were living with
your husband, and were the only woman on board.’
“‘But you, yourself, brought Mrs. Harville, her sister, her cousin, and
the three children round from Portsmouth to Plymouth. Where was this
superfine, extraordinary sort of gallantry of yours then?’
“‘All merged in my friendship, Sophia. I would assist any brother
officer’s wife that I could, and I would bring anything of Harville’s
from the world’s end, if he wanted it. But do not imagine that I did
not feel it an evil, in itself.’
“‘Depend upon it, they were all perfectly comfortable.’
“‘I might not like them the better for that, perhaps. Such a number of
women and children have no right to be comfortable on board.’
“‘My dear Frederick, you are talking quite idly. Pray, what would
become of us poor sailors’ wives, who often want to be conveyed to one
port or another, after our husbands, if everybody had your feelings.’
“‘My feelings you see did not prevent my taking Mrs. Harville and all
her family to Plymouth.’
“‘But I hate to hear you talking so like a fine gentleman, and as if
women were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures. We none of
us expect to be in smooth water all our days.’
“‘Ah, my dear,’ said the Admiral, ‘when he has got a wife he will sing
a different tune. When he is married, if we have the good luck to live
to another war, we shall see him do as you and I, and a great many
others, have done. We shall have him very thankful to anybody that will
bring him his wife.’
“‘Ay, that we shall.’
“‘Now I have done,’ cried Captain Wentworth. ‘When once married people
begin to attack me with--“Oh, you will think very differently when you
are married,” I can only say, “No, I shall not,” and then they say
again, “Yes, you will,” and there is an end of it.’
“He got up and moved away.
“‘What a great traveller you must have been, ma’am,’ said Mrs. Musgrove
to Mrs. Croft.
“‘Pretty well, ma’am, in the fifteen years of my marriage, though many
women have done more. I have crossed the Atlantic four times, and have
been once to the East Indies and back again, and only once; besides
being in different places about home: Cork, and Lisbon, and Gibraltar.
But I never went beyond the Straits, and was never in the West Indies.
We do not call Bermuda or Bahama, you know, the West Indies.’
“Mrs. Musgrove had not a word to say in dissent: she could not accuse
herself of having ever called them anything in the whole course of her
life.
“‘And I do assure you, ma’am,’ pursued Mrs. Croft, ‘that nothing can
exceed the accommodations of a man-of-war. I speak, you know, of the
higher rates. When you come to a frigate, of course you are more
confined; though any reasonable woman may be perfectly happy in one
of them; and I can safely say that the happiest part of my life has
been spent on board a ship. While we were together, you know, there
was nothing to be feared. Thank God! I have always been blessed with
excellent health, and no climate disagrees with me. The only time that
I ever really suffered in body and mind, the only time that I ever
fancied myself unwell, or had any ideas of danger, was the winter that
I passed by myself at Deal, when the Admiral (Captain Croft then) was
in the North Seas. I lived in perpetual fright at that time, and had
all manner of imaginary complaints from not knowing what to do with
myself, or when I should hear from him next; but as long as we could
be together, nothing ever ailed me, and I never met with the smallest
inconvenience.’
“‘Ay, to be sure. Yes, indeed, oh yes. I am quite of your opinion, Mrs.
Croft,’ was Mrs. Musgrove’s hearty answer. ‘There is nothing so bad as
a separation. I am quite of your opinion. I know what it is, for Mr.
Musgrove always attends the assizes, and I am so glad when they are
over, and he is safe back again.’”