THE PRINCE REGENT AND _EMMA_
In October 1815, Henry Austen was dangerously ill. He had by this
time moved into another house, which was in Hans Place, quite near
his former residence in Sloane Street, though the connection with the
bank in Henrietta Street was still kept up. Both his sisters were
with him at first, and an express was sent for his brother Edward,
so critical was his state considered to be, but he rallied, and
afterwards, when he was out of danger, Edward and Cassandra went on to
Chawton, and Jane was left to nurse him back to complete health. The
ideas of medicine at that time were primitive, and consisted chiefly
of unmitigated blood-letting, an extraordinary custom, which must have
been responsible for many a weak body’s giving up the ghost.
This incredible system is exemplified in the following anecdote. When
Mrs. Lybbe Powys’ son Philip had a coach accident she comments on
his treatment thus: “He has not, since the accident, tasted a bit of
meat, or drunk a drop of wine, had a perpetual blister ever since, and
blooded every three or four days for many weeks.” Well may the editor
of the book remark, “Truly Mr. Powys’ enduring this treatment was a
survival of the fittest!”
There was then a wide distinction between the Physician and the
Apothecary, which may be noticed in Jane’s playful repudiation: “You
seem to be under a mistake as to Mr. H. you call him an apothecary.
He is no apothecary, he has never been an apothecary; there is not an
apothecary in the neighbourhood—the only inconvenience of the situation
perhaps—but so it is, we have not a medical man within reach. He is a
Haden, nothing but a Haden, a sort of wonderful nondescript creature on
two legs, something between a man and an angel, but without the least
spice of an apothecary. He is perhaps the only person not an apothecary
hereabouts.”
As it happened, this nursing of her brother brought her into public
notice, for the physician who attended Henry Austen was also a
physician of the Prince Regent’s. At that time, though Jane’s name
had not appeared on the title-page of her books, there was no longer
any secret as to the writer’s identity, and the doctor told her
one day that the Prince of Wales, who had been made Regent in 1811,
was a great admirer of her novels; this is the only good thing one
ever heard of George IV., and one cannot help doubting the fact;
it is hard to imagine his reading any book, however delightful. The
physician, however, added that the Prince read the novels often, and
kept a set in every one of his residences, further, he himself had
told the Prince that the author was in London, and he had desired his
librarian to wait upon her. The librarian, Mr. Clarke, duly came, and
Jane was invited to go to Carlton House, but it does not seem that
the Prince himself deigned to bestow any personal notice upon her,
or that he even saw her; she saw Mr. Clarke and Mr. Clarke alone,
and therefore one begins to feel tolerably sure that it was from
Mr. Clarke the whole thing originated. This worthy man deserves some
credit, but that he was lacking in any sense of humour or knowledge of
life was evidenced by his ponderous suggestions as to future books,
one of which was that Jane should “delineate in some future work the
habits of life, character, and enthusiasm of a clergyman, who should
pass his time between the metropolis and the country, who should be
something like Beattie’s minstrel”; and when this was rejected, “an
historical romance illustrative of the august house of Cobourg, would
just now be very interesting.” Jane’s reply is full of good sense
and excellently expressed. “You are very kind in your hints as to
the sort of composition which might recommend me at present, and I
am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded on the House
of Cobourg, might be much more to the purpose of profit or popularity
than such pictures of domestic life in country villages as I deal in.
But I could no more write a romance than an epic poem. I could not
sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any other motive
than to save my life; and if it were indispensable for me to keep it
up, and never relax into laughing at myself or at other people, I am
sure I should be hung before I had finished the first chapter. I must
keep to my own style and go on in my own way; and though I may never
succeed again in that, I am convinced that I should totally fail in any
other.” (Mr. Austen-Leigh’s _Memoir_.) She, however, gladly agreed to
dedicate her next work to His Royal Highness. The next work was _Emma_,
then nearly ready for publication. Mr. Murray was the publisher, and
the dedication, which had been graciously accepted, appeared on the
title-page.
[Illustration: THE GARDEN OF CARLTON HOUSE]
The state of the Court at that time is abundantly pictured in numerous
memoirs, diaries, journals, etc., not the least among which is that
of Miss Burney, Jane’s contemporary and sister authoress. George
III. had one very striking virtue—striking in his time and position
and especially in his family—he seems to have lived a good domestic
life. He had been married young, to a princess who had no beauty to
recommend her, and his first feelings on seeing her had been those of
disappointment, but being a sensible, kindly man, he had soon learnt
to value the good heart and nature of the girl who had come so far
to marry a man she had never seen. Their numerous family linked them
together, and though the sons were a constant source of trouble and
notorious in their wild lives, the tribe of princesses seem to have
endeared themselves to everyone by their gracious manners. Poor old
George himself, with his well-meant, “What? What? What?” and his
homely ways, could never offend intentionally, and the “sweet queen,”
as Miss Burney so fulsomely calls her, though fully conscious of
her own dignity, and not disposed to make a fuss about the hardships
inseparable from the position of her waiting-women, was yet at the
bottom kind-hearted too.
As for most of the princes, however, their ways were a byword and
scandal. In every contemporary book we read of their being drunk, and
otherwise disgracing themselves.
The Prince of Wales and the Duke of York were the worst, and the Dukes
of Clarence and Kent seem to have been the best. At Brighton, where
the Prince of Wales had established his pavilion, orgies of drink
and coarseness went on that disgusted even those accustomed to very
free manners; the princes appeared in public with their mistresses,
and reeled into public ball-rooms. The Prince’s treatment of his own
ill-used wife is well known. Purely from caprice, and without a shadow
of justification, she, the mother of his only child Princess Charlotte,
was dismissed from her home, and forbidden any of the privileges or
respect due to her rank, a course of treatment which made England
despised among the nations. Of the other two we read:—
“The duke of Kent is certainly one of the most steady looking of the
princes, perhaps he may be heavy, but he has unquestionably the most of
a Man of Business in his Appearance.”
And Horace Walpole says—
“My neighbour, the Duke of Clarence, is so popular, that if Richmond
were a borough, and he had not attained his title, but still retained
his idea of standing candidate, he would certainly be elected there. He
pays his bills regularly himself, locks up his doors at night, that his
servants may not stay out late, and never drinks but a few glasses of
wine. Though the value of crowns is mightily fallen of late at market,
it looks as if His Royal Highness thought they were still worth waiting
for; nay, it is said that he tells his brothers, that he shall be king
before either; this is fair at least.” He was afterwards William IV.
The Prince of Wales mixed freely in political intrigues of the worst
kind, and took part in faction politics. As a man he was a contemptible
creature without character or intellect, but, in spite of all his
faults, he had a certain number of admirers, because as a young man he
was graceful and obliging in manners, and personal graciousness in a
sovereign covers a multitude of sins.
It is incongruous that a pure sweet story such as _Emma_ should
have been dedicated to a man whose faults and vices were such as the
clean-minded author could never have conceived, but the dedication
probably served the purpose of advertising this, the last novel that
Jane herself was to see issued to the public.
_Emma_ ranks very high indeed among the novels, but it relies for
its position on a different sort of excellence from that which
distinguishes _Pride and Prejudice_; there is in it, as we might
have expected, more finished workmanship and less of the brilliancy
of youth. The book is not so lively as _Pride and Prejudice_, and
its somewhat slow opening, unlike Jane’s usual style, is enough to
discourage some readers who expect to be plunged into a scene such as
that which begins her first novel, or which comes very soon in _Sense
and Sensibility_. _Emma_ has, however, more plot than is usual with
Jane Austen’s writings, it is more deliberately constructed, and yet
the whole scene takes place in a quiet country village without once
changing.
The heroine Emma, whose domestic importance as the only unmarried
daughter of a wealthy widower has given her a full idea of her own
value, has developed her individuality very strongly. She is not
spoilt, but all her words and actions betoken one accustomed to impress
her will on her surroundings, in a way not often allowed to unmarried
girls at home. The motif is her match-making propensity, which again
and again brings her to grief; this affords opening for many of the
humorous touches in which the author delights.
The book is very rich in secondary characters. The garrulous,
kind-hearted Miss Bates, with her rattling tongue, is one of the
strongly individualised comic characters which Jane generally manages
to insert. She ranks with Mr. Collins, with Mrs. Norris, and the
lesser specimens of the same gallery, Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Jennings.
She is admirably true to life, just such a garrulous, empty-headed,
good-hearted, tiresome creature as many a governess of the old school
has degenerated into in the evening of her life.
Emma’s father, the valetudinarian Mr. Woodhouse, has been said to
be overdrawn, but the great merit of Jane’s work is that she does
not exaggerate; traits to be found in people that any of us might
number among our acquaintance are so skilfully depicted as to appear
prominent; she selects true if extreme types, and does not draw
monstrosities such as those in which Dickens’s books abound, and of
which one can only say they _may_ have existed, once, at one time, but
are as rare as the exhibits in a dime museum.
Mr. Woodhouse’s married daughter, Mrs. Knightley, is excellently done;
her sympathy with her father’s tastes is only kept in check by her
affection for husband and children, which forces her to attend to
them and forget herself; yet the enjoyment with which she sips her
gruel, when allowed to have it, is real enjoyment, and she would have
certainly lived on gruel too had she been an old maid.
The hero, Mr. Knightley, is one of the few sensible men among Jane’s
heroes, and he with his experience and strength of character, is, as
has been said elsewhere, the only true mate for Emma. Knightley has
been criticised as a prig, but he is far from that. He was a stern
elderly man apparently at least forty-five in age, though we are told
he was only thirty. Emma herself has more ability than her rival,
Elizabeth Bennet, in _Pride and Prejudice_; her mind has more depth
and application: we could imagine Emma reading and studying, whereas,
pleasant as Elizabeth might have been as a companion, her forte was
general intelligent interest not depth, and we could not picture
her deeply absorbed in any book but a novel. Emma was one of Jane’s
own favourite heroines, and she said of her, “I am going to draw a
heroine whom no one but myself will much like.” It is true that for the
generality of men Emma would, in real life, have been just a little too
strong, but she is none the less interesting to read about.
Mr. Elton has already been commented on in the chapter on clergymen;
a more perfect match than he and his vulgar flashy wife would be
difficult to find. As for Jane’s traits of character in regard to the
hero and his brother, her genius cannot be better expressed than in the
words of Mr. Herries Pollock, who calls it “the finely touched likeness
and unlikeness between the brothers Knightley. At every turn of phrase,
at every step so to speak, one knows which is the better man, and yet
the point is never pressed by the author.” Though on the whole the book
has less _verve_ than _Pride and Prejudice_, it is rich in observation
and quiet humour.
It was published by Mr. Murray in December 1815. Jane says of it—
“My greatest anxiety at present is that this fourth work should not
disgrace what was good in the others. But on this point I will do
myself the justice to declare that, whatever may be my wishes for its
success, I am strongly haunted with the idea that to those readers
who have preferred _Pride and Prejudice_ it will appear inferior in
wit, and to those who have preferred _Mansfield Park_ inferior in good
sense.” (Mr. Austen-Leigh’s _Memoir_.)
A reviewer in _The Quarterly_ of the autumn 1815 includes _Emma_
with other works of the same writer. It has been supposed, therefore,
that the proof sheets must have been in the hands of the _Quarterly_
reviewer before the work was actually issued. Mr. Austin-Dobson,
by application to Mr. Murray, cleared up the difficulty, for he
ascertained that, owing to exceptional delays, the number of the Review
bearing date October 1815 did not in reality come out until March 1816,
and that therefore _Emma_ had actually appeared before its production.
The reviewer was Sir Walter Scott, as is stated by Lockhart in a note
to the _Life_, who adds that _Emma_ and _Northanger Abbey_ were in
particular great favourites of Scott’s. In his summary at the end of
the article, Sir Walter Scott says—
“The author’s knowledge of the world and the peculiar tact with which
she presents characters that the reader cannot fail to recognise,
reminds us something of the merits of the Flemish school of painting.
The subjects are not often elegant and certainly never grand; but
they are finished up to nature, and with a precision which delights
the reader.” “The faults on the contrary arise from the minute detail
which the author’s plan comprehends. Characters of folly or simplicity
such as those of old Woodhouse and Miss Bates, are ridiculous when
first presented, but if too often brought forward, or too long dwelt
upon, their prosing is apt to become as tiresome in fiction as in real
society.”
In this we cannot agree, to accuse Jane of it is to accuse her of
lacking the very gift in which she was pre-eminent—selection. The merit
of her bores is that they never bore, but are only amusing. She never
proses, and her few paragraphs of quotation from the sayings of Miss
Bates set that lady before us as clearly or more clearly than if fifty
pages from the actual life had been given by the phonograph.
From what Jane says she apparently saw this article in March 1816
when she was back at Chawton; for she writes: “The authoress of _Emma_
has no reason, I think, to complain of her treatment in it, except in
the total omission of _Mansfield Park_; I cannot but be sorry that so
clever a man as the reviewer of _Emma_ should consider it as unworthy
of being noticed.”
That Jane was satisfied with her treatment by Mr. Murray may be seen by
her handing over to him the conduct of the second edition of _Mansfield
Park_. She writes in one place, “I had a most civil note in reply from
Mr. Murray. He is so very polite indeed that it is quite over-coming.”
At this time she must have begun the last and shortest of her books,
_Persuasion_, which she finished in August of the same year. And with
this we enter on the last phase, the gradual decline and sinking of the
bright spirit, which had added so greatly to the happiness of thousands
it had never known.