_SENSE AND SENSIBILITY_
1809-1811
We are now bringing Jane Austen to the home which she was to occupy
through all the remaining eight years of her life--the home from which
she went to lie on her deathbed at Winchester. Into this period were to
be crowded a large proportion of her most important literary work, and
all the contemporary recognition which she was destined to enjoy. The
first six of these years must have been singularly happy. So far as we
know, she was in good health, she was a member of a cheerful family
party, and she was under the protection of brothers who would see that
she and her mother and sister suffered no discomfort. The eldest, James,
Rector of Steventon, could reach his mother's house in a morning's ride
through pleasant country lanes; Edward, the Squire, occasionally
occupied the 'Great House' at Chawton, and often lent it to one of his
naval brothers; while Henry in London was only too happy to receive his
sisters, show them the sights of the metropolis, and transact Jane's
literary business. At home were her mother, her life-long friend Martha,
and above all her 'other self'--Cassandra--from whom she had no secrets,
and with whom disagreement was impossible. But besides all these living
objects of interest, Jane also had her own separate and peculiar world,
peopled by the creations of her own bright imagination, which by degrees
became more and more real to her as she found others accepting and
admiring them. She must have resumed the habit of writing with
diffidence, after her previous experience; but the sense of progress,
and the success which attended her venture in publishing _Sense and
Sensibility_ would by degrees make ample amends for past
disappointments. She was no doubt aided by the quiet of her home and its
friendly surroundings. In this tranquil spot, where the past and present
even now join peaceful hands, she found happy leisure, repose of mind,
and absence of distraction, such as any sustained creative effort
demands.
Chawton was a charming village, about a mile from Alton, and deep in the
country; although two main roads from Gosport and Winchester
respectively joined on their way towards London just in front of the
Austens' cottage. Indeed, the place still refuses to be modernised, in
spite of three converging railways, and a necessary but civil notice in
the corner requesting motorists to 'drive slowly through the village.'
The venerable manor-house (then always called the 'Great House') is on
the slope of a hill above the Church, surrounded by garden, meadows, and
trees, and commanding a view over the intervening valley to a hill
opposite, crowned with a beech wood and known as 'Chawton Park.' The
cottage is in the centre of the village, and, as it actually abuts on
the road, the Austens could easily see or be seen by travellers. It is
supposed to have been built as a posting inn, but it had lately been
occupied by Edward Austen's steward. The author of the _Memoir_
describes his uncle's improvements to the place in the following
words[207]:--
A good-sized entrance and two sitting-rooms made
the length of the house, all intended originally
to look upon the road; but the large drawing-room
window was blocked up and turned into a book-case,
and another opened at the side which gave to view
only turf and trees, as a high wooden fence and
hornbeam hedge shut out the Winchester road, which
skirted the whole length of the little domain.
He goes on to speak of the garden laid out at the same time, which
proved a great interest to the party of ladies, and in which old Mrs.
Austen worked vigorously, almost to the end of her days, often attired
in a green round smock like a labourer's: a costume which must have been
nearly as remarkable as the red habit of her early married life.
Jane Austen was now between thirty-three and thirty-four years old. She
was absolutely free from any artistic self-consciousness, from any
eccentricity of either temper or manner. 'Hers was a mind well balanced
on a basis of good sense, sweetened by an affectionate heart, and
regulated by fixed principles; so that she was to be distinguished from
many other amiable and sensible women only by that peculiar genius which
shines out clearly . . . in her works.'[208] Her tastes were as normal as
her nature. She read English literature with eagerness, attracted by the
eighteenth-century perfection of style--and still more by the return to
nature in Cowper and the introduction of romance in Scott--but repelled
by coarseness, which she found even in the _Spectator_, and the presence
of which in Fielding made her rank him below Richardson. As for the
latter, 'Every circumstance narrated in _Sir Charles Grandison_, all
that was ever said or done in the "Cedar Parlour," was familiar to her;
and the wedding days of Lady L. and Lady G. were as well remembered as
if they had been living friends.' Her 'dear Dr. Johnson' was a constant
companion; and a younger friend was found in Crabbe, whom--as she used
to pretend--she was quite prepared to marry: not knowing at the time
whether he had a wife living or not.[209] As to her other tastes, she
greatly delighted in the beauties of nature, and no doubt would have
enjoyed foreign travel, had not that pleasure been quite out of her
reach. Her attitude to music, as an art, is more doubtful. She learnt to
play the piano in her youth, and after spending many years without an
instrument, took it up again on settling at Chawton; but she says
herself that she did this in order to be able to play country-dances for
her nephews and nieces; and when she goes to a concert she sometimes
remarks on her inability to enjoy it. A concert in Sydney Gardens,
however, was not perhaps likely to offer to the hearer many examples of
high art; and we have no means of knowing whether, if she had had a
chance of being introduced to classical music, it would have appealed to
her, as it sometimes does to intellectual people who have been
previously quite ignorant that they possessed any musical faculty. We
are told that she had a sweet voice, and sang with feeling. 'The
Soldier's Adieu' and 'The Yellow-haired Laddie' survive as the names of
two of her songs.
She was extraordinarily neat-handed in anything which she attempted. Her
hand-writing was both strong and pretty; her hemming and stitching, over
which she spent much time, 'might have put a sewing-machine to shame';
and at games, like spillikins or cup-and-ball, she was invincible.
If this description does not seem to imply so wide a mental outlook as
we wish to see in a distinguished author, we must remember that Jane
Austen (as her nephew tells us) 'lived in entire seclusion from the
literary world,' and probably 'never was in company with any person
whose talents or whose celebrity equalled her own.'[210] She was in the
middle of a small family circle, the members of which were well-educated
according to the fashion of the times, intelligent, and refined; but not
especially remarkable for learning or original thought. They accepted
the standards and views of their generation, interpreting them in a
reasonable and healthy manner. She had therefore no inducement, such as
might come from the influence of superior intellects, to dive into
difficult problems. Her mental efforts were purely her own, and they led
her in another direction; but she saw what she did see so very clearly,
that she would probably have been capable of looking more deeply into
the heart of things, had any impulse from outside induced her to try.
Her vision, however, might not have remained so admirably adapted for
the delicate operations nearer to the surface which were her real work
in life.
Jane's person is thus described for us by her niece Anna, now becoming a
grown-up girl and a keen observer: 'The figure tall and slight, but not
drooping; well balanced, as was proved by her quick firm step. Her
complexion of that rare sort which seems the particular property of
light brunettes; a mottled skin, not fair, but perfectly clear and
healthy; the fine naturally curling hair, neither light nor dark; the
bright hazel eyes to match, and the rather small, but well-shaped,
nose.' This is a delightful description; but she adds that in spite of
all this, her aunt was not regularly handsome, though most attractive.
As to her charm and lovableness there is absolute unanimity among all
those who were near enough to her to know what she really was. Jane had
by this time seen a good deal of society, and enjoyed it, though with a
certain critical aloofness which belonged to her family, and which was
hardly to be avoided by so clever a person as herself. This critical
spirit was evidently a quality of which she endeavoured to rid herself
as of a fault; and one of her nieces, who was too young to know her aunt
intimately, until almost the end of her life, was able then to say: 'She
was in fact one of the last people in society to be afraid of. I do not
suppose she ever in her life said a sharp thing. She was naturally shy
and not given to talk much in company, and people fancied, knowing that
she was clever, that she was on the watch for good material for books
from their conversation. Her intimate friends knew how groundless was
the apprehension and that it wronged her.' She was not only shy: she was
also at times very grave. Her niece Anna is inclined to think that
Cassandra was the more equably cheerful of the two sisters. There was,
undoubtedly, a quiet intensity of nature in Jane for which some critics
have not given her credit. Yet at other times she and this same niece
could joke so heartily over their needlework and talk such nonsense
together that Cassandra would beg them to stop out of mercy to her, and
not keep her in such fits of laughing. Sometimes the laughter would be
provoked by the composition of extempore verses, such as those given in
the _Memoir_[211] celebrating the charm of the 'lovely Anna'; sometimes
the niece would skim over new novels at the Alton Library, and reproduce
them with wilful exaggeration. On one occasion she threw down a novel on
the counter with contempt, saying she knew it must be rubbish from its
name. The name was _Sense and Sensibility_--the secret of which had been
strictly kept, even from her.
The niece who shared these hearty laughs with her aunts--James's eldest
daughter, Anna--differed widely from her cousin, Edward's daughter,
Fanny. She was more brilliant both in looks and in intelligence, but
also more mercurial and excitable. Both occupied a good deal of Jane's
thoughts and affections; but Anna must have been the one who caused her
the most amusement and also the most anxiety. The interest in her was
heightened when she became engaged to the son of Jane's old friend, Mrs.
Lefroy. Anna's giddiness was merely that of youth; she settled down into
a steady married life as the careful mother of a large family. She
cherished an ardent affection for her Aunt Jane, who evidently exercised
a great influence on her character.
Jane Austen's literary work was done mainly in the general sitting-room:
liable at any moment to be interrupted by servants, children, or
visitors--to none of whom had been entrusted the secret of her
authorship. Her small sheets of paper could easily be put away or
covered with blotting-paper, whenever the creaking swing-door (which she
valued for that reason) gave notice that anyone was coming.
Her needlework was nearly always a garment for the poor; though she had
also by her some satin stitch ready to take up in case of the appearance
of company. The nature of the work will help to contradict an
extraordinary misconception--namely, that she was indifferent to the
needs and claims of the poor: an idea probably based on the fact that
she never used them as 'copy.' Nothing could be further from the truth.
She was of course quite ignorant of the conditions of life in the great
towns, and she had but little money to give, but work, teaching, and
sympathy were freely bestowed on rustic neighbours. A very good
criterion of her attitude towards her own characters is often furnished
by their relations with the poor around them. Instances of this may be
found in Darcy's care of his tenants and servants, in Anne Elliot's
farewell visits to nearly all the inhabitants of Kellynch, and in Emma's
benevolence and good sense when assisting her poorer neighbours.
So began the Austens' life at Chawton--probably a quieter life than any
they had yet led; their nearest neighbours being the Middletons (who
rented the 'Great House' for five years and were still its inmates), the
Benns at Faringdon, the Harry Digweeds, Mr. Papillon the Rector (a
bachelor living with his sister), and the Clements and Prowting
families.
The ladies took possession of their cottage on July 7, and the first
news that we have of them is in a letter from Mrs. Knight, dated October
26, 1809: 'I heard of the Chawton party looking very comfortable at
breakfast from a gentleman who was travelling by their door in a
post-chaise about ten days ago.'
After this the curtain falls again, and we have no letters and no
information for a year and a half from this time. We are sure, however,
that Jane settled down to her writing very soon, for by April 1811
_Sense and Sensibility_ was in the printers' hands, and _Pride and
Prejudice_ far advanced.
Since her fit of youthful enthusiasm, when she had composed three
stories in little more than three years, she had had much experience of
life to sober and strengthen her. Three changes of residence, the loss
of her father, the friendship of Mrs. Lefroy and the shock of her
death,[212] her own and her sister's sad love stories, the crisis in the
Leigh Perrot history, and her literary disappointments--all these must
have made her take up her two old works with a chastened spirit, and a
more mature judgment. We cannot doubt that extensive alterations were
made: in fact, we know that this was the case with _Pride and
Prejudice_. We feel equally certain that, of the two works, _Sense and
Sensibility_ was essentially the earlier, both in conception and in
composition, and that no one could have sat down to write that work who
had already written _Pride and Prejudice_.[213] There is, indeed, no
lack of humour in the earlier work--the names of Mrs. Jennings, John
Dashwood, and the Palmers are enough to assure us of this; but the
humorous parts are not nearly so essential to the story as they become
in her later novels: the plot is desultory, and the principal characters
lack interest. We feel, in the presence of the virtue and sense of
Elinor, a rebuke which never affects us in the same way with Jane
Bennet, Fanny Price, or Anne Elliot; while Marianne is often
exasperating. Edward Ferrars is rather stiff; and Colonel Brandon is so
far removed from us that we never even learn his Christian name.
Mr. Helm[214] makes some acute remarks on the freedom which Elinor shows
in talking of embarrassing subjects with Willoughby, and on her
readiness to attribute his fall to the world rather than to himself. We
are to imagine, however, that Elinor had been attracted by him before,
and felt his personal charm again while she was under its spell: all the
more, because she was herself in a special state of excitement, from the
rapid changes in Marianne's condition, and the expectation of seeing her
mother. Her excuses for Willoughby were so far from representing any
opinion of the author's, that they did not even represent her own after
a few hours of reflection. It is one of the many instances which we have
of Jane Austen's subtle dramatic instinct.
On the whole, there is great merit in the book, and much amusement to be
got from it; but it seems natural to look upon it as an experiment on
the part of the author, before she put forth her full powers in _Pride
and Prejudice_. We are glad, by the way, to hear from Jane herself that
Miss Steele never caught the Doctor after all.
We must now accompany the author to London, whither she went in April
1811 to stay with her brother Henry and his wife (who had moved from
Brompton to 64 Sloane Street), having been preceded by her novel, then
in the hands of the printers.
Cassandra had in the meanwhile gone to Godmersham.
Sloane Street: Thursday [April 18, 1811].
MY DEAR CASSANDRA,-- . . . The badness of the
weather disconcerted an excellent plan of
mine--that of calling on Miss Beckford again; but
from the middle of the day it rained incessantly.
Mary[215] and I, after disposing of her father and
mother, went to the Liverpool Museum[216] and the
British Gallery,[217] and I had some amusement at
each, though my preference for men and women
always inclines me to attend more to the company
than the sight.
* * * * *
I did not see Theo.[218] till late on Tuesday; he
was gone to Ilford, but he came back in time to
show his usual nothing-meaning, harmless,
heartless civility. Henry, who had been confined
the whole day to the bank, took me in his way
home, and, after putting life and wit into the
party for a quarter of an hour, put himself and
his sister into a hackney coach.
* * * * *
Eliza is walking out by herself. She has plenty of
business on her hands just now, for the day of the
party is settled, and drawing near. Above 80
people are invited for next Tuesday evening, and
there is to be some very good music--five
professionals, three of them glee singers, besides
amateurs. Fanny will listen to this. One of the
hirelings is a Capital on the harp, from which I
expect great pleasure. The foundation of the party
was a dinner to Henry Egerton and Henry
Walter,[219] but the latter leaves town the day
before. I am sorry, as I wished _her_ prejudice to
be done away, but should have been more sorry if
there had been no invitation.
I am a wretch, to be so occupied with all these
things as to seem to have no thoughts to give to
people and circumstances which really supply a far
more lasting interest--the society in which you
are; but I do think of you all, I assure you, and
want to know all about everybody, and especially
about your visit to the W. Friars[220]; 'mais le
moyen' not to be occupied by one's own concerns?
_Saturday._--Frank is superseded in the
_Caledonia_. Henry brought us this news yesterday
from Mr. Daysh, and he heard at the same time that
Charles may be in England in the course of a
month. Sir Edward Pollen succeeds Lord Gambier in
his command, and some captain of his succeeds
Frank; and I believe the order is already gone
out. Henry means to enquire farther to-day. He
wrote to Mary on the occasion. This is something
to think of. Henry is convinced that he will have
the offer of something else,[221] but does not
think it will be at all incumbent on him to accept
it; and then follows, what will he do? and where
will he live?
* * * * *
The D'Antraigues and Comte Julien cannot come to
the party, which was at first a grief, but she has
since supplied herself so well with performers
that it is of no consequence; their not coming has
produced our going to them to-morrow evening,
which I like the idea of. It will be amusing to
see the ways of a French circle.
* * * * *
Our first object to-day was Henrietta St., to
consult with Henry in consequence of a very
unlucky change of the play for this very
night--_Hamlet_ instead of _King John_--and we are
to go on Monday to _Macbeth_ instead; but it is a
disappointment to us both.
Love to all.
Thursday [April 25, 1811].[222]
No, indeed, I am never too busy to think of _S.
and S._[223] 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. It will not stand still during
his absence, it will be sent to Eliza.
The _Incomes_ remain as they were, but I will get
them altered if I can. I am very much gratified by
Mrs. K.'s interest in it; and whatever may be the
event of it as to my credit with her, sincerely
wish her curiosity could be satisfied sooner than
is now probable. I think she will like my Elinor,
but cannot build on anything else.
Our party went off extremely well. There were many
solicitudes, alarms, and vexations, beforehand, of
course, but at last everything was quite right.
The rooms were dressed up with flowers, &c., and
looked very pretty. A glass for the mantelpiece
was lent by the man who is making their own. Mr.
Egerton and Mr. Walter came at half-past five, and
the festivities began with a pair of very fine
soles.
Yes, Mr. Walter--for he postponed his leaving
London on purpose--which did not give much
pleasure at the time, any more than the
circumstance from which it rose--his calling on
Sunday and being asked by Henry to take the family
dinner on that day, which he did; but it is all
smoothed over now, and she likes him very well.
At half-past seven arrived the musicians in two
hackney coaches, and by eight the lordly company
began to appear. Among the earliest were George
and Mary Cooke, and I spent the greatest part of
the evening very pleasantly with them. The
drawing-room being soon hotter than we liked, we
placed ourselves in the connecting passage, which
was comparatively cool, and gave us all the
advantage of the music at a pleasant distance, as
well as that of the first view of every new comer.
I was quite surrounded by acquaintance, especially
gentlemen; and what with Mr. Hampson,[224] Mr.
Seymour, Mr. W. Knatchbull, Mr. Guillemarde, Mr.
Cure, a Captain Simpson, brother to _the_ Captain
Simpson, besides Mr. Walter and Mr. Egerton, in
addition to the Cookes, and Miss Beckford, and
Miss Middleton, I had quite as much upon my hands
as I could do.
* * * * *
Including everybody we were sixty-six--which was
considerably more than Eliza had expected, and
quite enough to fill the back drawing-room and
leave a few to be scattered about in the other and
in the passage.
The music was extremely good. It opened (tell
Fanny) with 'Poike de Parp pin praise pof
Prapela;'[225] and of the other glees I remember,
'In peace love tunes,' 'Rosabelle,' 'The Red Cross
Knight,' and 'Poor Insect.' Between the songs were
lessons on the harp, or harp and pianoforte
together; and the harp-player was Wiepart, whose
name seems famous, though new to me. There was one
female singer, a short Miss Davis, all in blue,
bringing up for the public line, whose voice was
said to be very fine indeed; and all the
performers gave great satisfaction by doing what
they were paid for, and giving themselves no airs.
No amateur could be persuaded to do anything.
* * * * *
This said Captain Simpson told us, on the
authority of some other Captain just arrived from
Halifax, that Charles[226] was bringing the
_Cleopatra_ home, and that she was probably by
this time in the Channel; but, as Captain S. was
certainly in liquor, we must not quite depend on
it. It must give one a sort of expectation,
however, and will prevent my writing to him any
more. I would rather he should not reach England
till I am at home, and the Steventon party gone.
My mother and Martha both write with great
satisfaction of Anna's behaviour. She is quite an
Anna with variations, but she cannot have reached
her last, for that is always the most flourishing
and showy; she is at about her third or fourth,
which are generally simple and pretty.
* * * * *
We _did_ go to the play after all on Saturday. We
went to the Lyceum, and saw the _Hypocrite_, an
old play taken from Moliere's _Tartuffe_, and were
well entertained. Dowton and Mathews were the good
actors; Mrs. Edwin was the heroine, and her
performance is just what it used to be. I have no
chance of seeing Mrs. Siddons; she _did_ act on
Monday, but, as Henry was told by the box-keeper
that he did not think she would, the plans, and
all thought of it, were given up. I should
particularly have liked seeing her in _Constance_,
and could swear at her with little effort for
disappointing me.
Eliza caught her cold on Sunday in our way to the
D'Antraigues.[227] The horses actually gibbed on
this side of Hyde Park Gate: a load of fresh
gravel made it a formidable hill to them, and they
refused the collar; I believe there was a sore
shoulder to irritate. Eliza was frightened and we
got out, and were detained in the evening air
several minutes. The cold is in her chest, but she
takes care of herself, and I hope it may not last
long.
This engagement prevented Mr. Walter's staying
late--he had his coffee and went away. Eliza
enjoyed her evening very much, and means to
cultivate the acquaintance; and I see nothing to
dislike in them but their taking quantities of
snuff. Monsieur, the old Count, is a very
fine-looking man, with quiet manners, good enough
for an Englishman, and, I believe, is a man of
great information and taste. He has some fine
paintings, which delighted Henry as much as the
son's music gratified Eliza; and among them a
miniature of Philip V. of Spain, Louis XIV.'s
grandson, which exactly suited _my_ capacity.
Count Julien's performance is very wonderful.
We met only Mrs. Latouche and Miss East, and we
are just now engaged to spend next Sunday evening
at Mrs. L.'s, and to meet the D'Antraigues, but M.
le Comte must do without Henry. If he would but
speak English, _I_ would take to him.
Sloane Street: [Tuesday, April 30, 1811].
My head-dress was a bugle-band like the border to
my gown, and a flower of Mrs. Tilson's. I depended
upon hearing something of the evening from Mr. W.
K[natchbull], and am very well satisfied with his
notice of me--'A pleasing-looking young
woman'--that must do; one cannot pretend to
anything better now; thankful to have it continued
a few years longer!
* * * * *
We have tried to get _Self-Control_,[228] but in
vain. I _should_ like to know what her estimate
is, but am always half afraid of finding a clever
novel _too clever_, and of finding my own story
and my own people all forestalled.
* * * * *
I forgot to tell you in my last that our cousin,
Miss Payne,[2] called in on Saturday, and was
persuaded to stay dinner. She told us a great deal
about her friend Lady Cath. Brecknell, who is most
happily married, and Mr. Brecknell is very
religious, and has got black whiskers.
Yours very affectionately,
JANE.
Early in May, Jane left London; and, after paying a short visit to Mrs.
Hill (_nee_ Catherine Bigg) at Streatham, returned home to Chawton,
where she found only her mother and her niece Anna.
Chawton: Wednesday [May 29, 1811].
MY DEAR CASSANDRA,-- . . . You certainly must have
heard before I can tell you that Col. Orde has
married our cousin, Margt. Beckford,[229] the
Marchess. of Douglas's sister. The papers say
that her father disinherits her, but I think too
well of an Orde to suppose that she has not a
handsome independence of her own.
* * * * *
We sat upstairs [at the Digweeds'] and had thunder
and lightning as usual. I never knew such a spring
for thunderstorms as it has been. Thank God! we
have had no bad ones here. I thought myself in
luck to have my uncomfortable feelings shared by
the mistress of the house, as that procured blinds
and candles. It had been excessively hot the whole
day. Mrs. Harding is a good-looking woman, but not
much like Mrs. Toke, inasmuch as she is very brown
and has scarcely any teeth; she seems to have some
of Mrs. Toke's civility. Miss H. is an elegant,
pleasing, pretty-looking girl, about nineteen, I
suppose, or nineteen and a half, or nineteen and a
quarter, with flowers in her head and music at her
finger ends. She plays very well indeed. I have
seldom heard anybody with more pleasure.
Friday [May 31].
I have taken your hint, slight as it was, and have
written to Mrs. Knight, and most sincerely do I
hope it will not be in vain. I cannot endure the
idea of her giving away her own wheel, and have
told her no more than the truth, in saying that I
could never use it with comfort. I had a great
mind to add that, if she persisted in giving it, I
would spin nothing with it but a rope to hang
myself, but I was afraid of making it appear a
less serious matter of feeling than it really is.
* * * * *
From Monday to Wednesday Anna is to be engaged at
Faringdon, in order that she may come in for the
gaieties of Tuesday (the 4th), on Selborne Common,
where there are to be volunteers and felicities of
all kinds. Harriet B[enn] is invited to spend the
day with the John Whites, and her father and
mother have very kindly undertaken to get Anna
invited also.
* * * * *
Poor Anna is suffering from _her_ cold, which is
worse to-day, but as she has no sore throat I hope
it may spend itself by Tuesday. She had a
delightful evening with the Miss
Middletons--syllabub, tea, coffee, singing,
dancing, a hot supper, eleven o'clock, everything
that can be imagined agreeable. She desires her
best love to Fanny, and will answer her letter
before she leaves Chawton, and engages to send her
a particular account of the Selborne day.
* * * * *
How horrible it is to have so many people
killed![230] And what a blessing that one cares
for none of them!
I return to my letter-writing from calling on Miss
Harriot Webb, who is short and not quite straight
and cannot pronounce an R any better than her
sisters; but she has dark hair, a complexion to
suit, and, I think, has the pleasantest
countenance and manner of the three--the most
natural. She appears very well pleased with her
new home, and they are all reading with delight
Mrs. H. More's recent publication.
You cannot imagine--it is not in human nature to
imagine--what a nice walk we have round the
orchard. The row of beech look very well indeed,
and so does the young quickset hedge in the
garden. I hear to-day that an apricot has been
detected on one of the trees. My mother is
perfectly convinced _now_ that she shall not be
overpowered by her cleft-wood, and I believe would
rather have more than less.
God bless you, and I hope June will find you well,
and bring us together.
Thursday [June 6].
[Anna] does not return from Faringdon till this
evening, and I doubt not has had plenty of the
miscellaneous, unsettled sort of happiness which
seems to suit her best. We hear from Miss Benn,
who was on the Common with the Prowtings, that she
was very much admired by the gentlemen in general.
* * * * *
We began pease[231] on Sunday, but our gatherings
are very small, not at all like the gathering in
the _Lady of the Lake_. Yesterday I had the
agreeable surprise of finding several scarlet
strawberries quite ripe; had _you_ been at home,
this would have been a pleasure lost. There are
more gooseberries and fewer currants than I
thought at first. We must buy currants for our
wine.
* * * * *
I had just left off writing and put on my things
for walking to Alton, when Anna and her friend
Harriot called in their way thither, so we went
together. Their business was to provide mourning
against the King's death, and my mother has had a
bombasin bought for her. I am not sorry to be back
again, for the young ladies had a great deal to
do, and without much method in doing it.
Yours affectionately,
J. A.
The printing of _Sense and Sensibility_ cannot have been very rapid, for
in September 28 there is the following entry in Fanny Austen's diary:
'Letter from At. Cass to beg we would not mention that Aunt Jane wrote
_Sense and Sensibility_.' This looks as if it were still on the eve of
publication, and it was not in fact advertised until October 31.
FOOTNOTES:
[207] _Memoir_, p. 80.
[208] _Ibid._ p. 196.
[209] See pp. 275, 285.
[210] We are told in the biographical notice prefixed to Bentley's
edition of the novels in 1833, that though Jane, when her authorship was
an open secret, was once asked by a stranger to join a literary party at
which Madame de Stael would be present, she immediately declined the
invitation.
[211] _Memoir_, p. 89.
[212] She had experienced a similar shock before in the sudden death, by
accident, of her cousin, Jane Williams.
[213] This judgment is based on the idea that _Elinor and Marianne_
(admittedly earlier than _First Impressions_) bore something of the same
relation to _Sense and Sensibility_ that _First Impressions_ did to
_Pride and Prejudice_.
[214] _Jane Austen and her Country-house Comedy_, by W. H. Helm.
[215] Her cousin, Mary Cooke.
[216] This may have been Bullock's Natural History Museum, at 22
Piccadilly. See _Notes and Queries_, 11 S.v. 514.
[217] In Pall Mall.
[218] Theophilus Cooke.
[219] See p. 6.
[220] White Friars, Canterbury--the residence of Mrs. Knight.
[221] He took command of the _Elephant_ on July 18, 1811, and became
again concerned in the Napoleonic Wars. _Sailor Brothers_ p. 226.
[222] The original of this letter is in the British Museum.
[223] _Sense and Sensibility._ We do not know whether the _Incomes_ were
ever altered.
[224] Mr. Hampson, like Mr. Walter, must have been related to Jane
through her grandmother (Rebecca Hampson), who married first, Dr.
Walter; secondly, William Austen. Mr. Hampson succeeded to a baronetcy,
but was too much of a republican to use the title.
[225] Jane and her niece Fanny seem to have invented a language of their
own--the chief point of which was to use a 'p' wherever possible. Thus
the piece of music alluded to was 'Strike the harp in praise of
Bragela.'
[226] We learn from a letter of Cassandra that he arrived in time to
spend (with his family) a week at Chawton Cottage. He had been absent
almost seven years. It was their first sight of his wife.
[227] The Comte d'Antraigues and his wife were both of them notable
people. _He_ had been elected deputy for the _noblesse_ to the
States-General in 1789, and had taken at first the popular side; but as
time went on he became estranged from Mirabeau, and was among the
earliest to emigrate in 1790. For the rest of his life he was engaged in
plotting to restore the Bourbons. His wife had been the celebrated
Madame St. Hubert of the Paris opera-house, and was the only woman ever
known to have inspired Bonaparte to break forth into verse. Both the
Count and Countess were murdered by their valet at Barnes, July 22,
1812. (_Un agent secret sous la Revolution et l'Empire: Le Comte
d'Antraigues_, par Leonce Pingaud. Paris, 1894.)
[228] A novel by Mrs. Brunton, published in 1810.
[229] We can give no explanation of the cousinship, if any existed, of
Miss Beckford; Miss Payne may have descended from a sister of Jane's
grandmother, Rebecca Austen, who married a man of that name.
[230] Perhaps in the battle of Albuera, May 16, 1811, which is described
by Professor Oman (_Cambridge Modern History_, ix. 467) as 'the most
bloody incident of the whole Peninsular War.'
[231] June 2. They ought to have waited for the King's birthday (June
4), which was considered the correct day to begin pease upon.