WINCHESTER
1817
Even after the beginning of April, Jane's hopefulness did not desert
her. 'I am happy,' says James Austen, writing to his daughter Anna, 'to
give you a good account, written by herself in a letter from your Aunt
Jane; but all who love--and that is all who know her--must be anxious on
her account.'
When May came, she consented to the proposal of those around her that
she should move to Winchester, in order to get the best medical advice
that the neighbourhood afforded. The Lyford family had maintained for
some time a high character for skill in the profession of medicine at
that place; and the Mr. Lyford of the day was a man of more than
provincial reputation, in whom great London consultants expressed
confidence.[363] Accordingly, on Saturday, May 24, she bade farewell to
her mother and her home, and her brother James's carriage conveyed
Cassandra and herself to Winchester. The little cavalcade--for they were
attended by two riders--started in sadness and in rain; and all must
have doubted whether she would ever come back to Chawton.
She was going, however, to a place for which she felt the veneration
which all good Hampshire people owe to their county town: a veneration
shared by a good many Englishmen outside the limits of the county.
The sisters took lodgings in College Street, in the house next to what
was then called 'Commoners,' and is now the head master's house. On the
front wall of the little house where they lived there is now a plaque
commemorating the stay of Jane Austen. Near to them, in the Close, were
living their old friends Mrs. Heathcote and Miss Bigg, who did all they
could to add to their comforts; while at the school were their nephew,
Charles Knight, and young William Heathcote--either of whom they might
hope to see from time to time.
The course of the illness, and its fatal termination, are shown pretty
clearly in the letters which follow; the most informing and the most
pathetic of which (next to her own) are the two written by Cassandra to
Fanny Knight after all was ended.
Some of the letters are undated, and we cannot therefore be certain of
the order in which they were written; we must also allow for the
probable fact that Cassandra did not say more than was necessary to her
mother of Jane's increasing weakness and discomfort.
Mr. Lyford spoke encouragingly, though it is believed that he had, from
the first, very little expectation of a permanent cure. Some temporary
rally there seems to have been; and, soon after settling in her
lodgings, Jane was able to write as follows to Edward Austen:--
Mrs. David's, College Street, Winton:
Tuesday [May 27, 1817].[364]
I know no better way, my dearest Edward, of
thanking you for your most affectionate concern
for me during my illness than by telling you
myself, as soon as possible, that I continue to
get better. I will not boast of my handwriting;
neither that nor my face have yet recovered their
proper beauty, but in other respects I am gaining
strength very fast. I am now out of bed from 9 in
the morning to 10 at night: upon the sopha, 'tis
true, but I eat my meals with aunt Cass in a
rational way, and can employ myself, and walk from
one room to another. Mr. Lyford says he will cure
me, and if he fails, I shall draw up a memorial
and lay it before the Dean and Chapter, and have
no doubt of redress from that pious, learned, and
disinterested body. Our lodgings are very
comfortable. We have a neat little drawing-room
with a bow window overlooking Dr. Gabell's garden.
Thanks to the kindness of your father and mother
in sending me their carriage, my journey hither on
Saturday was performed with very little fatigue,
and had it been a fine day, I think I should have
felt none; but it distressed me to see uncle Henry
and Wm. Knight, who kindly attended us on
horseback, riding in the rain almost all the way.
We expect a visit from them to-morrow, and hope
they will stay the night; and on Thursday, which
is Confirmation and a holiday, we are to get
Charles out to breakfast. We have had but one
visit yet from _him_, poor fellow, as he is in
sick-room, but he hopes to be out to-night. We see
Mrs. Heathcote every day, and William is to call
upon us soon. God bless you, my dear Edward. If
ever you are ill, may you be as tenderly nursed as
I have been. May the same blessed alleviations of
anxious, sympathising friends be yours: and may
you possess, as I dare say you will, the greatest
blessing of all in the consciousness of not being
unworthy of their love. _I_ could not feel this.
Your very affec^{te} Aunt,
J. A.
Had I not engaged to write to you, you would have
heard again from your Aunt Martha, as she charged
me to tell you with her best love.
J. E. Austen, Esq.,
Exeter College, Oxford.
The original of this letter, which is preserved, bears sad testimony to
the truth of her remark about her handwriting. Some few days after this,
she must have written her last extant letter, quoted in the short Memoir
prefixed to the original edition of _Northanger Abbey_:--
My attendant is encouraging, and talks of making
me quite well. I live chiefly on the sofa, but am
allowed to walk from one room to the other. I have
been out once in a Sedan-chair, and am to repeat
it, and be promoted to a wheel-chair as the
weather serves. On this subject I will only say
further that my dearest sister, my tender,
watchful, indefatigable nurse, has not been made
ill by her exertions. As to what I owe to her, and
to the anxious affection of all my beloved family
on this occasion, I can only cry over it, and pray
to God to bless them more and more.
Some allusion to the family disappointment about the will probably
followed, and she added: 'But I am getting too near complaint. It has
been the appointment of God, however secondary causes may have
operated.'
Jane's mother could still indulge in the hope of her amendment. In a
note to Anna, she says:--
You will be happy to hear that our accounts from
Winchester are very good. Our letter this morning,
which was written yesterday evening, says 'Jane
has had a better night than she has had for many
weeks and has been comfortable all day. Mr. Lyford
says he thinks better of her than he has ever
done, though he must still consider her in a
precarious state.'
And, in another letter--
I had a very comfortable account of your Aunt Jane
this morning; she now sits up a little. Charles
Knight came this morning: he saw her yesterday,
and says she looks better and seem'd very
cheerful. She hoped to be well enough to see Mrs.
Portal to-day; your Mamma is there (went yesterday
by the coach), which I am very glad of. Cassandra
did not quite like the nurse they had got, so
wish'd Mrs. J. A. to come in her stead, as she
promised she would whenever she was wanted.
Mrs. James Austen went to Winchester on a Friday; perhaps Friday, June
6. Two or three days afterwards, her husband wrote to their son Edward,
who no doubt was following at Oxford with painful interest the varying
news. James, at any rate, cherished no illusions as to the possibility
of a cure.
Steventon: Thursday.
MY DEAR EDWARD,--I grieve to write what you will
grieve to read; but I must tell you that we can no
longer flatter ourselves with the least hope of
having your dear valuable Aunt Jane restored to
us. The symptoms which returned after the first
four or five days at Winchester, have never
subsided, and Mr. Lyford has candidly told us that
her case is desperate. I need not say what a
melancholy gloom this has cast over us all. Your
Grandmamma has suffered much, but her affliction
can be nothing to Cassandra's. She will indeed be
to be pitied. It is some consolation to know that
our poor invalid has hitherto felt no very severe
pain--which is rather an extraordinary
circumstance in her complaint. I saw her on
Tuesday and found her much altered, but composed
and cheerful. She is well aware of her situation.
Your Mother has been there ever since Friday and
returns not till all is over--how soon that may be
we cannot say--Lyford said he saw no signs of
immediate dissolution, but added that with such a
pulse it was impossible for any person to last
long, and indeed no one can wish it--an easy
departure from this to a better world is all that
we can pray for. I am going to Winchester again
to-morrow; you may depend upon early information,
when any change takes place, and should then
prepare yourself for what the next letter _may_
announce.
Mrs. Heathcote is the greatest possible comfort to
them all. . . .
We all join in love.
Your affectionate Father,
J. AUSTEN.
Edward's young sister Caroline (aged twelve) adds a few unhappy lines
about her aunt, saying: 'I now feel as if I had never loved and valued
her enough.'
Jane Austen 'retained her faculties, her memory, her fancy, her temper,
and her affections--warm, clear, and unimpaired to the last. Neither her
love of God, nor of her fellow-creatures flagged for a moment.'[365] Her
two clergyman brothers were near at hand to administer the consolations
of religion, and she made a point of receiving the Holy Communion while
she was still strong enough to follow the Service with full attention.
'While she used the language of hope to her correspondents, she was
fully aware of her danger, though not appalled by it.[366] It is true
that there was much to attach her to life. She was happy in her family;
she was just beginning to feel confidence in her own success; and, no
doubt, the exercise of her great talents was an enjoyment in itself. We
may well believe that she would gladly have lived longer; but she was
enabled without dismay or complaint to prepare for death. She was a
humble, believing Christian. Her life had been passed in the performance
of home duties, and the cultivation of domestic affections, without any
self-seeking or craving after applause. She had always sought, as it
were by instinct, to promote the happiness of all who came within her
influence, and doubtless she had her reward in the peace of mind which
was granted her in her last days. Her sweetness of temper never failed.
She was ever considerate and grateful to those who attended on her. At
times, when she felt rather better, her playfulness of spirit revived,
and she amused them even in their sadness. Once, when she thought
herself near her end, she said what she imagined might be her last words
to those around her, and particularly thanked her sister-in-law for
being with her, saying: "You have always been a kind sister to me,
Mary."'
She wrote whilst she could hold a pen, and with a pencil when a pen had
become too laborious. Even a day or two before her death she was able to
compose some light verses on St. Swithin, Winchester Races, and the
weather. But the record of the last sad hours and of her death in the
early morning of Friday, July 18, will be best read in the letter of
Cassandra to Fanny Knight.
Winchester: Sunday [July 20, 1817].[367]
MY DEAREST FANNY,--Doubly dear to me now for her
dear sake whom we have lost. She did love you
most sincerely, and never shall I forget the
proofs of love you gave her during her illness in
writing those kind, amusing letters at a time when
I know your feelings would have dictated so
different a style. Take the only reward I can give
you in the assurance that your benevolent purpose
_was_ answered; you _did_ contribute to her
enjoyment.
Even your last letter afforded pleasure. I merely
cut the seal and gave it to her; she opened it and
read it herself, afterwards she gave it me to
read, and then talked to me a little and not
uncheerfully of its contents, but there was then a
languor about her which prevented her taking the
same interest in anything she had been used to do.
Since Tuesday evening, when her complaint
returned, there was a visible change, she slept
more and much more comfortably; indeed, during the
last eight-and-forty hours she was more asleep
than awake. Her looks altered and she fell away,
but I perceived no material diminution of
strength, and, though I was then hopeless of a
recovery, I had no suspicion how rapidly my loss
was approaching.
I _have_ lost a treasure, such a sister, such a
friend as never can have been surpassed. She was
the sun of my life, the gilder of every pleasure,
the soother of every sorrow; I had not a thought
concealed from her, and it is as if I had lost a
part of myself. I loved her only too well--not
better than she deserved, but I am conscious that
my affection for her made me sometimes unjust to
and negligent of others; and I can acknowledge,
more than as a general principle, the justice of
the Hand which has struck this blow.
You know me too well to be at all afraid that I
should suffer materially from my feelings; I am
perfectly conscious of the extent of my
irreparable loss, but I am not at all overpowered
and very little indisposed, nothing but what a
short time, with rest and change of air, will
remove. I thank God that I was enabled to attend
her to the last, and amongst my many causes of
self-reproach I have not to add any wilful neglect
of her comfort.
She felt herself to be dying about half an hour
before she became tranquil and apparently
unconscious. During that half-hour was her
struggle, poor soul! She said she could not tell
us what she suffered, though she complained of
little fixed pain. When I asked her if there was
anything she wanted, her answer was she wanted
nothing but death, and some of her words were:
'God grant me patience, pray for me, oh, pray for
me!' Her voice was affected, but as long as she
spoke she was intelligible.
I hope I do not break your heart, my dearest
Fanny, by these particulars; I mean to afford you
gratification whilst I am relieving my own
feelings. I could not write so to anybody else;
indeed you are the only person I have written to
at all, excepting your grandmamma--it was to her,
not your Uncle Charles, I wrote on Friday.
Immediately after dinner on Thursday I went into
the town to do an errand which your dear aunt was
anxious about. I returned about a quarter before
six and found her recovering from faintness and
oppression; she got so well as to be able to give
me a minute account of her seizure, and when the
clock struck six she was talking quietly to me.
I cannot say how soon afterwards she was seized
again with the same faintness, which was followed
by the sufferings she could not describe; but Mr.
Lyford had been sent for, had applied something to
give her ease, and she was in a state of quiet
insensibility by seven o'clock at the latest. From
that time till half-past four, when she ceased to
breathe, she scarcely moved a limb, so that we
have every reason to think, with gratitude to the
Almighty, that her sufferings were over. A slight
motion of the head with every breath remained till
almost the last. I sat close to her with a pillow
in my lap to assist in supporting her head, which
was almost off the bed, for six hours; fatigue
made me then resign my place to Mrs. J. A. for two
hours and a half, when I took it again, and in
about an hour more she breathed her last.
I was able to close her eyes myself, and it was a
great gratification to me to render her those last
services. There was nothing convulsed which gave
the idea of pain in her look; on the contrary, but
for the continual motion of the head, she gave one
the idea of a beautiful statue, and even now, in
her coffin, there is such a sweet, serene air over
her countenance as is quite pleasant to
contemplate.
This day, my dearest Fanny, you have had the
melancholy intelligence, and I know you suffer
severely, but I likewise know that you will apply
to the fountain-head for consolation, and that our
merciful God is never deaf to such prayers as you
will offer.
The last sad ceremony is to take place on Thursday
morning; her dear remains are to be deposited in
the Cathedral. It is a satisfaction to me to think
that they are to lie in a building she admired so
much; her precious soul, I presume to hope,
reposes in a far superior mansion. May mine one
day be re-united to it!
Your dear papa, your Uncle Henry, and Frank, and
Edwd. Austen instead of his father, will attend. I
hope they will none of them suffer lastingly from
their pious exertions. The ceremony must be over
before ten o'clock, as the Cathedral service
begins at that hour, so that we shall be at home
early in the day, for there will be nothing to
keep us here afterwards.
Your Uncle James came to us yesterday, and is gone
home to-day. Uncle H. goes to Chawton to-morrow
morning; he has given every necessary direction
here, and I think his company there will do good.
He returns to us again on Tuesday evening.
I did not think to have written a long letter when
I began, but I have found the employment draw me
on, and I hope I shall have been giving you more
pleasure than pain. Remember me kindly to Mrs. J.
Bridges (I am so glad she is with you now), and
give my best love to Lizzie and all the others.
I am, my dearest Fanny,
Most affectionately yours,
CASS. ELIZ. AUSTEN.
I have said nothing about those at Chawton,
because I am sure you hear from your papa.
During these sad days, Anna Lefroy had written to her grandmother at
Chawton, offering to go to her. Mrs. Austen answered:--
I thank you sincerely for all your kind
expressions, and your offer. I am certainly in a
good deal of affliction, but trust God will
support me. I was not prepared for the blow,
though it in a manner hung over us; I had reason
to think it at a distance, and was not quite
without hope that she might in part recover. After
a few months' illness she may be said to have died
suddenly. Mr. Lyford supposed a large blood-vessel
had given way. I hope her sufferings were not
severe--they were not long. I had a letter from
Cassandra this morning. She is in great
affliction, but bears it like a Christian. Dear
Jane is to be buried in the Cathedral, I believe
on Thursday--in which case Cassandra will come
home as soon as it is over.
Cassandra did go home, and a few days later wrote again to Fanny Knight
as follows:--
Chawton: Tuesday [July 29, 1817].[368]
MY DEAREST FANNY,--I have just read your letter
for the third time, and thank you most sincerely
for every kind expression to myself, and still
more warmly for your praises of her who I believe
was better known to you than to any human being
besides myself. Nothing of the sort could have
been more gratifying to me than the manner in
which you write of her, and if the dear angel is
conscious of what passes here, and is not above
all earthly feelings, she may perhaps receive
pleasure in being so mourned. Had _she_ been the
survivor I can fancy her speaking of _you_ in
almost the same terms. There are certainly many
points of strong resemblance in your characters;
in your intimate acquaintance with each other, and
your mutual strong affection, you were
counterparts.
Thursday was not so dreadful a day to me as you
imagined. There was so much necessary to be done
that there was no time for additional misery.
Everything was conducted with the greatest
tranquillity, and but that I was determined I
would see the last, and therefore was upon the
listen, I should not have known when they left the
house. I watched the little mournful procession
the length of the street; and when it turned from
my sight, and I had lost her for ever, even then I
was not overpowered, nor so much agitated as I am
now in writing of it. Never was human being more
sincerely mourned by those who attended her
remains than was this dear creature. May the
sorrow with which she is parted with on earth be a
prognostic of the joy with which she is hailed in
heaven!
I continue very tolerably well--much better than
any one could have supposed possible, because I
certainly have had considerable fatigue of body as
well as anguish of mind for months back; but I
really am well, and I hope I am properly grateful
to the Almighty for having been so supported. Your
grandmamma, too, is much better than when I came
home.
I did not think your dear papa appeared unwell,
and I understand that he seemed much more
comfortable after his return from Winchester than
he had done before. I need not tell you that he
was a great comfort to me; indeed, I can never say
enough of the kindness I have received from him
and from every other friend.
I get out of doors a good deal and am able to
employ myself. Of course those employments suit me
best which leave me most at leisure to think of
her I have lost, and I do think of her in every
variety of circumstance. In our happy hours of
confidential intercourse, in the cheerful family
party which she so ornamented, in her sick room,
on her death-bed, and as (I hope) an inhabitant of
heaven. Oh, if I may one day be re-united to her
there! I know the time must come when my mind will
be less engrossed by her idea, but I do not like
to think of it. If I think of her less as on
earth, God grant that I may never cease to reflect
on her as inhabiting heaven, and never cease my
humble endeavours (when it shall please God) to
join her there.
In looking at a few of the precious papers which
are now my property I have found some memorandums,
amongst which she desires that one of her gold
chains may be given to her god-daughter Louisa,
and a lock of her hair be set for you. You can
need no assurance, my dearest Fanny, that every
request of your beloved aunt will be sacred with
me. Be so good as to say whether you prefer a
brooch or ring. God bless you, my dearest Fanny.
Believe me, most affectionately yours,
CASS. ELIZTH. AUSTEN.
So ends the story of Jane Austen's life. We can only hope that we have
succeeded in conveying to the reader even a small part of the feeling
which we ourselves entertain of the charm of her personality--a charm
almost as remarkable in its way as the brightness of her genius. In one
respect it is easy to write about her--there is nothing to conceal.
Some readers may perhaps add 'There is little to tell'; and it is true
that, though the want of incident in her life has often been
exaggerated, her occupations were largely those of helpfulness and
sympathy towards others whose lot was more variable than hers, and the
development of her own powers to be the delight of generations of
readers.
But this position gave her quite sufficient opportunity of showing her
character--and it is a character which it is a continual pleasure to
contemplate. Her perfect balance and good sense did not diminish her
liveliness. Her intellectual qualities did not prevent the enjoyment of
a dance, or attention to the most domestic duties. Her consciousness of
genius left room for a belief that Cassandra was wiser and better than
herself. Her keen and humorous observation of the frailties of mankind
was compatible with indulgence towards the faults of her neighbours. Her
growing fame did not make her the less accessible and delightful to her
nieces, who could consult their aunt and obtain a willing listener in
any difficulty whatever, from a doubtful love affair to the working of a
sampler. Indeed, she is a standing witness to the truth that
eccentricity and self-consciousness are not essential parts of genius.
When her body had been laid in Winchester Cathedral, the small band of
mourners went back in sadness to their different homes. They were very
fond and very proud of her; and each, we are told, loved afterwards to
fancy a resemblance in some niece or daughter of their own to the dear
sister Jane, whose perfect equal they yet never expected to see.
Cassandra returned to Chawton and devoted a further ten years to the
care of her aged mother. Till old Mrs. Austen's death in 1827, Martha
Lloyd remained an inmate, and everything went on, nominally, as before;
but the 'chief light was quenched and the loss of it had cast a shade
over the spirits of the survivors.'[369] So, when the young Austens went
to stay there, expecting to be particularly happy, they could not help
feeling something of the chill of disappointment. Later, Martha became
the second wife of Francis Austen, while Cassandra lived on at Chawton.
One of her great-nieces remembers seeing her towards the end of her life
at a christening, 'a pale, dark-eyed old lady, with a high arched nose
and a kind smile, dressed in a long cloak and a large drawn bonnet, both
made of black satin.' She died of a sudden illness in 1845, at the house
of her brother Francis, near Portsmouth--at his house, but in his
absence; for he and his family had to leave for the West Indies (where
he was to take up a command) while she lay dying. She was tended by her
brothers Henry and Charles and her niece Caroline. She was buried beside
her mother at Chawton.
All her brothers survived her, except James, who was in bad health when
his sister Jane died, and followed her in 1819.
Edward (Knight) saw his children and his children's children grow up
around him, and died at Godmersham as peacefully as he had lived, in
1852.
Henry held the living of Steventon for three years after the death of
his brother James, till his nephew, William Knight, was ready to take
it. He was afterwards Perpetual Curate of Bentley, near Farnham. Later
on, he lived for some time in France, and he died at Tunbridge Wells in
1850.
Both the sailor brothers rose to be Admirals.[370] Charles was employed
in the suppression of the Slave Trade and against Mehemet Ali, and
became Rear-Admiral in 1846. In 1850 he commanded in the East Indian and
Chinese waters, and died of cholera on the Irawaddy River in 1852,
having 'won the hearts of all by his gentleness and kindness whilst he
was struggling with disease.'
Francis had thirty years on shore after the end of the long war; and his
only subsequent foreign service was the command of the West Indian and
North American Station, 1845-48. He, however, constantly rose in his
profession, and enjoyed the esteem and respect of the Admiralty. He
ended by being G.C.B. and Admiral of the Fleet, and did not die until
1865, aged ninety-one.
* * * * *
Shortly before the end of her life, Jane Austen wrote on a slip of
paper:--
Profits of my novels, over and above the L600 in the Navy Fives.
L _s._
Residue from the 1st edit. of _Mansfield Park_
remaining in Henrietta St., March 1816 13 7
Received from Egerton, on 2nd edit. of _Sense
and S._, March 1816 12 15
February 21, 1817, First Profits of _Emma_ 38 18
March 7, 1817. From Egerton--2nd edit. of _S.
and S._ 19 13
_Northanger Abbey_ and _Persuasion_ were published in four volumes by
John Murray in 1818, and to the former was prefixed a short biographical
notice of the author from the pen of Henry Austen. In 1832 Mr. Bentley
bought the copyright of all the novels, except _Pride and Prejudice_
(which Jane Austen had sold outright to Mr. Egerton), from Henry and
Cassandra Austen, the joint proprietors, for the sum of two hundred and
fifty pounds. Mr. Bentley must also have bought from Mr. Egerton's
executors the copyright of _Pride and Prejudice_, for he proceeded to
issue a complete edition of the novels with a biographical notice (also
by Henry) containing a few extra facts not mentioned in the original
edition of _Northanger Abbey_.
(James) Edward Austen, who added 'Leigh' to his name on succeeding to
the property of Scarlets in 1836, wrote (in 1869-70) the _Memoir_ of his
aunt which has been so often used in these pages, and which, as the work
of three eyewitnesses,[371] enjoys an authority greater than that of any
other account of her. Its publication coincided with the beginning of a
great advance in her fame, and we think it may be claimed that it was an
important contributory cause of that advance. Before that date, an
appreciation of her genius was rather the special possession of small
literary circles and individual families; since that date it has been
widely spread both in England and in America. From her death to 1870,
there was only one complete edition of her works, and nothing, except a
few articles and reviews, was written about her. Since 1870, editions,
lives, memoirs, &c., have been almost too numerous to count. We, who are
adding to this stream of writings, cannot induce ourselves to believe
that the interest of the public is yet exhausted.
FOOTNOTES:
[363] _Memoir_, p. 162.
[364] _Memoir_, p. 163.
[365] Preface to original edition of _Northanger Abbey_.
[366] _Memoir_, p. 165.
[367] _Brabourne_, vol. ii. p. 333, &c.
[368] _Brabourne_, vol. ii. p. 338, &c.
[369] _Memoir_, p. 87.
[370] _Sailor Brothers_, chap. xviii.
[371] His two sisters and himself.
APPENDIX
_The Text of Jane Austen's Novels._
In the course of frequent reprinting, various errors have crept into the
text of the novels, which seem in danger of becoming perpetuated. We
therefore make no apology for pointing these out and for giving our
reasons why we prefer any particular reading.
In arriving at the correct text of Jane Austen, common sense will be our
best guide. It is of no use to assume, as some editors have done, that
the latest edition which appeared in the author's lifetime, and which
might naturally have had the benefit of her corrections, is any more
correct than the earliest. Jane Austen was no skilled proofreader, and
it is a melancholy fact that the second edition of _Mansfield Park_,
which she returned to Mr. Murray 'as ready for press' as she could make
it, contains more misprints than any of the other novels, including one
or two that do not appear in the first edition. But as the type was
evidently re-set, this may have been as much the printer's fault as the
author's. Again, though in one of her letters she points out a misprint
in the first edition of _Pride and Prejudice_, the passage is not
corrected in either the second or third edition, both of which
subsequently appeared in her lifetime.
Before noticing the various discrepancies, it is necessary to say a few
words about the chief editions of note. During the author's lifetime
three editions appeared of _Pride and Prejudice_, two of _Sense and
Sensibility_ and of _Mansfield Park_, and one of _Emma_. _Northanger
Abbey_ and _Persuasion_ were published soon after her death. No other
edition of the novels seems to have been published until Bentley bought
up the copyrights of all the novels in 1832, and included them in his
'Standard Novels' series.
In process of time, Bentley's edition adopted various emendations in the
text. It held the field to all intents and purposes for sixty years
(apart from cheap reprints in the 'Parlour Series,' 'Railway Library,'
&c.), and its text has largely been followed in later editions,
especially by Messrs. Macmillan in their 'Pocket Classics' series. Other
recent editions, containing a more or less independent text--arrived at
by following the earliest editions--are those edited for Messrs. Dent by
Mr. Brimley Johnson, the earliest of which appeared in 1892, and the
most recent of which has appeared in 'Everyman's Library'; the Hampshire
Edition (_published_ by Mr. Brimley Johnson, but differing considerably
from the editions which he has _edited_); and the Winchester Edition,
published by Mr. Grant Richards.
Finally, with regard to textual criticism, we have an article 'On the
printing of Jane Austen's novels,' by the late Dr. Verrall, contributed
to the _Cambridge Observer_, about 1892; and two others, also by Dr.
Verrall, 'On some passages in Jane Austen's _Mansfield Park_,' in the
_Cambridge Review_, for November 30 and December 7, 1893; and certain
emendations pointed out in a review of a new edition of _Pride and
Prejudice_ in the _Saturday Review_ of November 12, 1910.
'SENSE AND SENSIBILITY'
In this novel scarcely anything calls for notice. The main divergencies
seem to be that the editions are divided between reading 'such
happiness' and 'such an happiness,' at the end of Chapter III; between
'by all who called themselves her friends' and 'by all who call
themselves her friends,' in Chapter XXXII; and 'one of the happiest
couples' or 'one of the happiest couple,' in Chapter L.
Johnson's 1892 edition has an unfortunate blunder at the beginning of