CHAWTON
In 1809 another move was contemplated. Edward Knight had found it in
his power to offer his mother and sisters a home rent free; and he gave
them the choice of a house in Kent, probably not far from Godmersham,
or a cottage at Chawton close to his Manor House there.
The latter offer was accepted, and preparations were made to alter
the cottage, which had been a steward’s residence, into a comfortable
dwelling. The cottage is still standing, close by the main road, and
may be seen by anyone in passing; it is of considerable size, and
there are six bedrooms besides garrets. It stands close to the junction
of two roads, one of which passes through Winchester to Southampton,
and the other through Fareham to Gosport. Chawton lies about as far
north-west of Winchester as Steventon does north.
The considerable country town of Alton, which would be convenient for
shopping, is only about a mile from the village. The cottage, dreary
and weather-beaten in appearance, is of a solid square shape, and abuts
on the high-road with only a paling in front. It is not an attractive
looking dwelling, but probably at the time was fresher and brighter in
appearance than it is now. It had also the advantage of a good garden.
It is now partially used for a club or reading-room and partially by
cottagers. At the junction of the two roads aforesaid is a muddy pond,
that which was playfully referred to by Jane in writing to her nephew,
who had not been well, when she says “you may be ordered to a house by
the sea or by a very considerable pond.”
A short distance along the Gosport Road is the entrance gate to the
Manor House, and about fifty yards up the drive is the pretty little
church, considerably altered since Jane’s time, with pinnacled and
ivy-mantled tower. Just above it is the fine old Elizabethan house.
In 1525 one William Knight had a lease of the place; the house itself
was probably built by his son John, who bought the estate, and it has
remained ever since in the hands of the Knight family, if we may count
adoption as ranking in family inheritance.
The move to Chawton was evidently some time in contemplation before
actually taking place, for writing in December 1808, Jane says that
they want to be settled at Chawton “in time for Henry to come to us for
some shooting in October at least, or a little earlier, and Edward may
visit us after taking his boys back to Winchester. Suppose we name the
fourth of September.”
Of the actual settling in at Chawton we have no details, for the next
batch of letters begins in April 1811, and Jane, with her mother and
sister, had been there about a year and a half.
Chawton was her home for the rest of her short life, though she
actually died at Winchester. At Chawton her three last novels were
written, as will be recounted in detail. It is curious that the
periods of her literary activity seem to have been synchronous with
her residence in the country; at Steventon and at Chawton respectively
she produced three novels; at Bath only a fragment, and at Southampton
nothing at all.
The life at Chawton during this and the next few years must have been
part of the happiest time she ever experienced. Her first book, _Sense
and Sensibility_, was published in 1811; she had tasted the joys of
earning money, and, what was much greater, the joy of seeing her own
ideas and characters in tangible shape; she lived in a comfortable,
pretty home, with the comings and goings of her relatives at the Manor
House to add variety, and she had probably lost the restlessness of
girlhood. If the conjecture of which we have spoken in a previous
chapter was true, she had now had time to get over a sorrow which
must have taken its place with those sweet unrealised dreams in which
the pain is much softened by retrospect. That she fully appreciated
her country surroundings is shown by frequent notes on the garden at
Chawton. “Our young piony at the foot of the firtree has just blown
and looks very handsome, and the whole of the shrubbery border will
soon be very gay with pinks and sweet williams, in addition to the
columbines already in bloom. The Syringas too are coming out. We are
likely to have a great crop of Orleans plums, but not many greengages.”
“You cannot imagine what a nice walk we have round the orchard. The
row of beech look very pretty and so does the young quick-set hedge in
the garden. I hear to-day that an apricot has been detected on one of
the trees.” “Yesterday I had the agreeable surprise of finding several
scarlet strawberries quite ripe. There are more strawberries and fewer
currants than I thought at first. We must buy currants for our wine.”
Thus the seasons are marked. The Austens ate their own tender young
peas from the garden, and “my mother’s” chickens supplied the table.
Mrs. Austen at this time seems to have taken a new lease of life, she
busied herself with garden and poultry, and did not shirk even the
harder details necessitated by these occupations.
Her granddaughter Anna, James’s eldest daughter, now grown up, was a
constant visitor at the cottage, and speaks of Mrs. Austen’s wearing a
“round green frock like a day labourer” and “digging her own potatoes.”
Anna enjoyed the little gaieties that fell to her lot as freshly as
her aunt had done at her age, indeed with even more simplicity, for
Jane remarks of one ball to which she went “it would not have satisfied
me at her age.” And again, “Anna had a delightful evening at the Miss
Middletons, syllabub, tea, coffee, singing, dancing, a hot supper,
eleven o’clock, everything that can be imagined agreeable,” as if the
freshness of Anna’s youth were very fresh indeed.
The beautiful park stretching around Chawton House, with its fine beech
trees, was of course quite open to the inhabitants of the cottage, who
must have derived many advantages from their near relationship to the
owner.
Altogether, with the freedom from care for the future, the
companionship of her sister, the increased health and energy of her
mother, the solace of her writing, the comings and goings of the
Chawton party, and the occasional visits to London and elsewhere,
to give her fresh ideas, Jane’s life must have been as pleasant as
external circumstances could make it. We can picture her sauntering
out in the early summer sunshine, her head demurely encased in the
inevitable cap, while the long stray curl tickles her cheek as she
stoops to see the buds bursting into bloom or triumphantly gathers the
earliest rose. We can picture her standing about watching Mrs. Austen
feeding the chickens, and giving her opinion as to their management.
Then going in to the little parlour, or living-room, and sitting down
to the piano while Cassandra manipulated an old-fashioned tambour
frame. In this little parlour, in spite of frequent interruptions,
Jane did all her writing sitting at the big heavy mahogany desk of
the old style, like a wooden box, which opened at a slant so as to
form a support for the paper; at this time she was revising _Sense and
Sensibility_ for the press, or adding something to the growing pile
of MS. called _Mansfield Park_. We cannot imagine that she wrote much
at a time, for her work is minute, small, and well digested; probably
after a scene or conversation between two of the characters, she would
be interrupted by another member of the household, and stroll up to
the Manor House to give orders for the reception of some of the Knight
family, or go into Alton to buy some necessary household article.
Occasionally a post-chaise would rattle past, or the daily coach and
waggons would form a diversion.
For six months, during the year 1813, the whole of the Godmersham
party lived at Chawton, while their other house was being repaired and
painted, and this intercourse added greatly to Jane’s happiness. She
cemented that affectionate friendship with her eldest niece Fanny, and
Lord Brabourne gives little extracts from his mother’s diary to show
how close the companionship was between the two, “Aunt Jane and I had
a very interesting conversation,” “Aunt Jane and I had a very delicious
morning together,” “Aunt Jane and I walked into Alton together,” and so
on.
But during these years there was no abatement of the fierce turmoil
in Europe, the Peninsular War, demanding ever fresh levies of men and
fresh subsidies of money, was a continual drain on England’s resources,
and the beginning of 1812 found the French practically masters of
Spain; but in that year the tide turned, and after continual and bloody
battles and sieges in which the loss of life was enormous, Wellington
drove the French back across the Pyrenees, and in the following year
planted his victorious standard actually on French soil.
But the effects of the continuous wars were being felt in England, in
1811 broke out the Luddite riots, nominally against the introduction
of machinery, but in reality because of the high price of bread and
the scarcity of employment and money. Austria had signed the disastrous
Peace of Vienna with France in 1809, and during this and the following
years the Continent with small exception was ground beneath the
heel of Napoleon, who in 1812 commenced the invasion of Russia which
was to cost him so dearly. In 1811 there is rather a characteristic
exclamation in one of Jane’s letters apropos of the war: “How horrible
it is to have so many people killed! And what a blessing that one cares
for none of them!”
Napoleon’s tyranny and utter regardlessness of the feelings of national
pride in the countries he had conquered now began to bring forth for
him a bitter harvest. The Sixth Coalition of nations was formed against
him, including Russia, Prussia, Austria, Great Britain and Sweden.
After terrific fighting his armies were forced back over the Rhine, and
the mighty Empire he had formed of powerless and degraded “Republics”
melted away like snow in an August sun. In March 1814, Paris itself was
forced to surrender to the triumphant armies of the Allies. In April,
Napoleon signed his abdication and retired to Elba. Ever since he first
appeared as an active agent on the battlefields of Europe he had kept
the Continent in a perpetual ferment; cruelty, bloodshed and horror
had followed in his train. His mighty personality had seemed scarcely
human, and his very name struck terror into all hearts, and became a
bugbear with which to frighten children.
We have two letters of Jane’s in the early part of March, written from
London where she was staying with her brother Henry. There is not
another until June, and that is dated from Chawton. Of course it is
difficult to imagine that any intermediate letters she wrote can have
been entirely free from allusion to the great news at which the whole
Continent burst into pæans of thankfulness, and which must have made
England feel as if she had awakened from a nightmare, but as we have no
proof either way it must be left open to doubt.
In the June letter she says to Cassandra, who was in London, “Take
care of yourself and do not be trampled to death in running after the
Emperor. The report in Alton yesterday was that they would certainly
travel this road either to or from Portsmouth.” This referred to the
visit of the Allied monarchs to England after their triumph in Paris,
and the “Emperor” was the Emperor Alexander of Russia, who but a few
years ago had formed a secret treaty with Napoleon to the detriment of
England!
Here we must leave political matters, to take a short review of
the work which Jane had produced in the years since she had come to
Chawton.
In 1811 the first of her books, _Sense and Sensibility_, was published
at her own expense, and produced in three neat little volumes in clear
type by T. Egerton, Whitehall. Her identity was not disclosed by the
title-page, which simply bore the words “By a Lady.” She paid a visit
to her brother Henry in London in order to arrange the details, with
which Henry helped her very much. When in London with this object
she writes, “No, indeed, I am never too busy to think of _Sense and
Sensibility_. I can no more forget it than a mother can forget her
sucking child, and I am much obliged to you for your enquiries. I have
had two sheets to correct but the last only brings us to Willoughby’s
first appearance. Mrs. K. regrets in the most flattering manner that
she must wait _till_ May, but I have scarcely a hope of its being out
in June. Henry does not neglect it; he _has_ hurried the printer, and
says he will see him again to-day.”
_Sense and Sensibility_ did not come out until she had returned to
the country, and when she received £150 for it later on, she thought
it “a prodigious recompense for that which had cost her nothing.” And
certainly, considering her anonymity and the small chances the book
had, she had good reason to be satisfied. The gratifying reception of
_Sense and Sensibility_ seems to have awakened the powers of writing
which had so long lain dormant from want of encouragement. In 1812 she
began _Mansfield Park_, perhaps in some ways the least interesting,
though by no means the least well constructed, of her novels. Edmund
and Fanny are both a little too mild for the taste of most people, and
are far from taking their real place as hero and heroine. However,
Edmund’s blind partiality for Miss Crawford is very natural, and,
as Henry Austen himself said, it is certainly impossible to tell
until quite the end how the story is going to be finished. The minor
characters are throughout excellent; it is one of Jane’s shining
qualities that no character, however small the part it has to play,
remains unknown, she seems able to describe in a touch or two some
human quality or defect which at once brings us into intimate relations
with either man or woman. Mr. Rushworth’s self-importance, “I am to
be Count Cassel and to come in first in a blue dress, and a pink satin
cloak, and afterwards have another fine fancy suit by way of a shooting
dress. I do not know how I shall like it ... I shall hardly know myself
in a blue dress and pink satin cloak,” is excellent.
Lady Bertram’s character might be gathered from one sentence in the
letter which she sends to Fanny, telling of her elder son’s dangerous
illness: “Edmund kindly proposes attending his brother immediately,
but I am happy to add Sir Thomas will not leave me on this distressing
occasion as it would be too trying for me.”
Mrs. Norris, with her sycophantic speeches towards her well-to-do
nieces, her own opinion of her virtues, her admonitions to Fanny,
her habit of taking credit for the generous acts performed by other
people, her spunging, and trick of getting everything at the expense
of others, is the most striking figure in the book. When poor Fanny,
having been neglected and left alone all day, the odd one of the party,
is returning with the rest rather drearily from Rushworth Park, Mrs.
Norris remarks—
“Well, Fanny, this has been a fine day for you, upon my word! Nothing
but pleasure from beginning to end! I am sure you ought to be very
much obliged to your Aunt Bertram and me for contriving to let you
go. A pretty good day’s amusement you have had.” This, when she has
done her best to stop Fanny’s going at all, depicts her character in
unmistakable colours. On another occasion she tells the meek Fanny,
“The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and
trying to appear above themselves makes me think it right to give
you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any
of us, and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself
forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of
your cousins, as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. That will
never do, believe me. Remember wherever you are you must be the lowest
and last.” In the same book Sir Thomas Bertram’s conference with his
niece on the proposals he has received for her from Mr. Crawford is a
wonderful commentary on the opinions of the time, but is too long to
quote in entirety. That Fanny should refuse a handsome eligible young
man, merely because she could neither respect nor love him, was quite
incredible, and not only foolish but wicked. Sir Thomas speaks sternly
of his disappointment in her character, “I had thought you peculiarly
free from wilfulness of temper, self-conceit and every tendency to that
independence of spirit which prevails so much in modern days, even in
young women, and which, in young women, is offensive and disgusting
beyond all common offence.”
We know what Jane herself thought of coercion of this kind, and how
fully her sentiments were on the side of liberty of choice.
Among the other excellencies of _Mansfield Park_ we may note the
sketch of Fanny’s home at Portsmouth, with her loud-voiced father and
noisy brothers so distressing to her excessive sensitiveness. With
all these merits, and to add to them that of excellent construction,
_Mansfield Park_ may rank high in spite of its somewhat colourless
hero and heroine. We cannot, however, leave Edmund and Fanny in the
same certainty of a happy future as we may leave others of the heroes
and heroines in the novels; they may rub along well enough, but we
feel they cannot but be intolerably dull, though perhaps so long as
people are not aware of their own dulness they may enjoy happiness of
a negative sort!
Henry Austen read _Mansfield Park_ in MS. while travelling with his
sister, and she notes with pleasure, “Henry’s approbation is hitherto
even equal to my wishes. He says it is different from the other two,
but he does not think it at all inferior. He has only married Mrs.
Rushworth. I am afraid he has gone through the most entertaining
part. He took to Lady Bertram and Mrs. Norris most kindly, and gives
great praise to the drawing of all the characters. He understands them
all, likes Fanny, and, I think, foresees how it will all be.” And she
adds later, “Henry is going on with _Mansfield Park_. He admires H.
Crawford; I mean properly, as a clever pleasant man, I tell you all the
good I can, and I know how much you will enjoy it.” “Henry has this
moment said he likes my M. P. better and better; he is in the third
volume; I believe now he has changed his mind as to foreseeing the end;
he said yesterday at least he defied anybody to say whether H. C. would
be reformed or forget Fanny in a fortnight.”
The first two extracts are from a letter given in Mr. Austen-Leigh’s
_Memoir_.
In 1813 came the publication of _Pride and Prejudice_, apparently at
Mr. Egerton’s risk. This was evidently Jane’s own favourite among the
novels, and her references to it are made with genuine delight.
“Lady Robert is delighted with P. and P., and really was so, I
understand, before she knew who wrote it, for, of course she knows
now.” “I long to have you hear Mr. H’s opinion of P. and P. His
admiring my Elizabeth so much is particularly welcome to me.” “Poor
Dr. Isham is obliged to admire P. and P. and to send me word that he
is sure he shall not like Madam D’Arblay’s new novel half so well.
Mrs. C. invented it all of course.” The book had come out quite in the
beginning of the year, for in a letter dated Jan. 29, 1813, given by
Mr. Austen-Leigh, she writes—
“I hope you received my little parcel by J. Bond on Wednesday evening,
my dear Cassandra, and that you will be ready to hear from me again
on Sunday, for I feel that I must write to you to-day. I want to tell
you that I have got my own darling child from London. On Wednesday I
received one copy sent down by Falkner with three lines from Henry to
say that he had given another to Charles and sent a third by the coach
to Godmersham.... The advertisement is in our paper to-day for the
first time: 18s. He shall ask £1, 1s. for my two next and £1, 8s. for
my stupidest of all.”
_Mansfield Park_ was finished in the same year, and came out under
the auspices of Mr. Egerton in 1814, though the second edition was
transferred to Mr. Murray. Before the publication of _Emma_, Jane
had begun to be known in spite of the anonymity of her title-pages.
The only bit of public recognition she ever personally received was
accorded to her while she was in London, and must be told in the
account of her London experiences.