Jane Austen
The Letters of Jane Austen
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Table of contents
PREFACE.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
XXV.
XXVI.
XXVII.
XXVIII.
XXIX.
XXX.
XXXI.
XXXII.
XXXIII.
XXXIV.
XXXV.
XXXVI.
XXXVII.
XXXVIII.
XXXIX.
XL.
XLI.
XLII.
XLIII.
XLIV.
XLV.
XLVI.
XLVII.
XLVIII.
XLIX.
L.
LI.
LII.
LIII.
LIV.
LV.
LVI.
LVII.
LVIII.
LIX.
LX.
LXI.
LXII.
LXIII.
LXIV.
LXV.
LXVI.
LXVII.
LXVIII.
LXIX.
LXX.
LXXI.
LXXII.
LXXIII.
LXXIV.
LXXV.
LXXVI.
LXXVII.
LXXVIII.
PREFACE.
The
recent cult for Miss Austen, which has resulted in no less than ten
new editions of her novels within a decade and three memoirs by
different hands within as many years, have made the facts of her life
familiar to most readers. It was a short life, and an uneventful one
as viewed from the standpoint of our modern times, when steam and
electricity have linked together the ends of the earth, and the very
air seems teeming with news, agitations, discussions. We have barely
time to recover our breath between post and post; and the morning
paper with its statements of disaster and its hints of still greater
evils to be, is scarcely out-lived, when, lo! in comes the evening
issue, contradicting the news of the morning, to be sure, but full of
omens and auguries of its own to strew our pillows with the seed of
wakefulness.To
us, publications come hot and hot from the press. Telegraphic wires
like the intricate and incalculable zigzags of the lightning ramify
above our heads; and who can tell at what moment their darts may
strike? In Miss Austen's day the tranquil, drowsy, decorous English
day of a century since, all was different. News travelled then from
hand to hand, carried in creaking post-wagons, or in cases of extreme
urgency by men on horseback. When a gentleman journeying in his own
"chaise" took three days in going from Exeter to London, a
distance now covered in three hours of railroad, there was little
chance of frequent surprises. Love, sorrow, and death were in the
world then as now, and worked their will upon the sons of men; but
people did not expect happenings every day or even every year. No
doubt they lived the longer for this exemption from excitement, and
kept their nerves in a state of wholesome repair; but it goes without
saying that the events of which they knew so little did not stir them
deeply.Miss
Austen's life coincided with two of the momentous epochs of
history,—the American struggle for independence, and the French
Revolution; but there is scarcely an allusion to either in her
letters. She was interested in the fleet and its victories because
two of her brothers were in the navy and had promotion and
prize-money to look forward to. In this connection she mentions
Trafalgar and the Egyptian expedition, and generously remarks that
she would read Southey's "Life of Nelson" if there was
anything in it about her brother Frank! She honors Sir John Moore by
remarking after his death that his mother would perhaps have
preferred to have him less distinguished and still alive; further
than that, the making of the gooseberry jam and a good recipe for
orange wine interests her more than all the marchings and
countermarchings, the man[oe]uvres and diplomacies, going on the
world over. In the midst of the universal vortex of fear and hope,
triumph and defeat, while the fate of Britain and British liberty
hung trembling in the balance, she sits writing her letters, trimming
her caps, and discussing small beer with her sister in a lively and
unruffled fashion wonderful to contemplate. "The society of
rural England in those days," as Mr. Goldwin Smith happily puts
it, "enjoyed a calm of its own in the midst of the European
tempest like the windless centre of a circular storm."The
point of view of a woman with such an environment must naturally be
circumscribed and narrow; and in this Miss Austen's charm consists.
Seeing little, she painted what she saw with absolute fidelity and a
dexterity and perfection unequalled. "On her was bestowed,
though in a humble form, the gift which had been bestowed on Homer,
Shakespeare, Cervantes, Scott, and a few others,—the gift of
creative power." Endowed with the keenest and most delicate
insight and a vivid sense of humor, she depicted with exactitude what
she observed and what she understood, giving to each fact and emotion
its precise shade and value. The things she did not see she did not
attempt. Affectation was impossible to her,—most of all,
affectation of knowledge or feeling not justly her own. "She
held the mirror up to her time" with an exquisite sincerity and
fidelity; and the closeness of her study brought her intimately near
to those hidden springs which underlie all human nature. This is the
reason why, for all their skimp skirts, leg-of-mutton sleeves, and
bygone impossible bonnets, her characters do not seem to us
old-fashioned. Minds and hearts are made pretty much after the same
pattern from century to century; and given a modern dress and speech,
Emma or Elizabeth or dear Anne Eliot could enter a drawing-room
to-day, and excite no surprise except by so closely resembling the
people whom they would find there."Miss
Austen's novels are dateless things," Mr. Augustine Birrell
tells us. "Nobody in his senses would speak of them as 'old
novels.' 'John Inglesant' is an old novel, so is 'Ginx's Baby.' But
Emma is quite new, and, like a wise woman, affords few clues to her
age."We
allude with a special touch of affection to Anne Eliot. "Persuasion,"
which was written during the last two years of Miss Austen's life,
when the refining touch of Eternity was already upon her, has always
seemed to us the most perfect of her novels; and Anne, with her
exquisite breeding and unselfish straightforwardness, just touched
with the tender reserve of memory and regret, one of her best
portraitures. But this is a matter of individual taste. Doubtless
Elizabeth Bennet is "better fun" as the modern girl would
say. Miss Austen herself preferred her. She had a droll and pretty
way of talking about her characters which showed how real they were
to her own mind, and made them equally real to other people. In 1813
she had the good luck to light upon a portrait of Jane Bennet at an
exhibition."I
was very well pleased (pray tell Fanny) with a small portrait of Mrs.
Bingley, excessively like her. I went in hopes of seeing one of her
sister, but there was no Mrs. Darcy. Perhaps I may find her in the
great exhibition, which we shall go to if we have time. Mrs.
Bingley's is exactly like herself,—size, shaped face, features and
sweetness; there never was a greater likeness. She is dressed in a
white gown, with green ornaments, which convinces me of what I had
always supposed, that green was a favorite color with her. I dare say
Mrs. D. will be in yellow."And
later:—"We
have been both to the exhibition and Sir J. Reynolds'; and I am
disappointed, for there was nothing like Mrs. D. at either. I can
only imagine that Mr. D. prizes any picture of her too much to like
it should be exposed to the public eye. I can imagine he would have
that sort of feeling,—that mixture of love, pride, and delicacy."The
letters included in this series comprise about three quarters of the
collection in two volumes published in 1884 by her great-nephew Lord
Brabourne. The lightness, almost friskiness, of their tone cannot
fail to strike the reader. Modern letters written by women are filled
more or less with hints and queries; questionings as to the why and
the wherefore occur; allusions to the various "fads" of the
day, literary or artistic,—Ibsen, Tolstoi, Browning, Esoteric
Buddhism, Wagner's Music, the Mind Cure, Social Science, Causes and
Reforms. But Cowper and Crabbe were the poetical sensations in Miss
Austen's time, Scott and Byron its phenomenal novelties; it took
months to get most books printed, and years to persuade anybody to
read them. Furthermore the letters, in all probability, are carefully
chosen to reveal only the more superficial side of their writer.
There are wide gaps of omission, covering important events such as
Mr. Austen's death, the long illness through which Jane nursed her
brother Henry, and the anxieties and worries which his failure in
business caused to the whole family. What is vouchsafed us is a
glimpse of the girlish and untroubled moments of Miss Austen's life;
and the glimpse is a sweet and friendly one. We are glad to have it,
in spite of our suspicion that another and even more interesting part
of her personality is withheld from us.A
good daughter, a delightful sister, the most perfect of aunts, what
better record could there be of a single woman? Her literary work
never stood in the way of her home duties, any more than her "quiet,
limpid, unimpassioned style" stood between her thought and her
readers.Her
fame may justly be said to be almost entirely posthumous. She was
read and praised to a moderate degree during her lifetime, but all
her novels together brought her no more than seven hundred pounds;
and her reputation, as it were, was in its close-sheathed bud when,
at the early age of forty-one, she died. It would have excited in her
an amused incredulity, no doubt, had any one predicted that two
generations after her death the real recognition of her powers was to
come. Time, which like desert sands has effaced the footprints of so
many promising authors, has, with her, served as the desert wind, to
blow aside those dusts of the commonplace which for a while concealed
her true proportions. She is loved more than she ever hoped to be,
and far more widely known. Mrs. Ritchie tells somewhere an anecdote
of a party of seven assembled at a dinner-table, where the question
arose of the locality of one of Miss Austen's places,—Maple Grove,
the residence of Mr. Suckling, if we are not mistaken,—and six of
the persons present at once recognized the allusion, and had a formed
opinion on the subject. The seventh was a Frenchman who did not read
English!Scott,
Macaulay, Sir James Mackintosh, Miss Martineau, Mrs. Ritchie, Miss
Mitford, and a host of others have vied in their generous tributes of
admiration. But most striking of all, to our thinking, is that paid
to Miss Austen by Lord Tennyson when, in some visit to Lyme not many
years since, those with him pointed out this and the other feature of
the place only to be interrupted with—"Never mind all that.
Show me the exact spot where Louisa Musgrove fell!" Could
non-historical verisimilitude go farther or mean more?
I.
Steventon,
Thursday (January 16, 1796).I HAVE
just received yours and Mary's letter, and I thank you both, though
their contents might have been more agreeable. I do not at all expect
to see you on Tuesday, since matters have fallen out so unpleasantly;
and if you are not able to return till after that day, it will hardly
be possible for us to send for you before Saturday, though for my own
part I care so little about the ball that it would be no sacrifice to
me to give it up for the sake of seeing you two days earlier. We are
extremely sorry for poor Eliza's illness. I trust, however, that she
has continued to recover since you wrote, and that you will none of
you be the worse for your attendance on her. What a good-for-nothing
fellow Charles is to bespeak the stockings! I hope he will be too hot
all the rest of his life for it!I
sent you a letter yesterday to Ibthorp, which I suppose you will not
receive at Kintbury. It was not very long or very witty, and
therefore if you never receive it, it does not much signify. I wrote
principally to tell you that the Coopers were arrived and in good
health. The little boy is very like Dr. Cooper, and the little girl
is to resemble Jane, they say.Our
party to Ashe to-morrow night will consist of Edward Cooper, James
(for a ball is nothing without him), Buller, who is now staying with
us, and I. I look forward with great impatience to it, as I rather
expect to receive an offer from my friend in the course of the
evening. I shall refuse him, however, unless he promises to give away
his white coat.I
am very much flattered by your commendation of my last letter, for I
write only for fame, and without any view to pecuniary emolument.Edward
is gone to spend the day with his friend, John Lyford, and does not
return till to-morrow. Anna is now here; she came up in her chaise to
spend the day with her young cousins, but she does not much take to
them or to anything about them, except Caroline's spinning-wheel. I
am very glad to find from Mary that Mr. and Mrs. Fowle are pleased
with you. I hope you will continue to give satisfaction.How
impertinent you are to write to me about Tom, as if I had not
opportunities of hearing from him myself! The last letter that I
received from him was dated on Friday, 8th, and he told me that if
the wind should be favorable on Sunday, which it proved to be, they
were to sail from Falmouth on that day. By this time, therefore, they
are at Barbadoes, I suppose. The Rivers are still at Manydown, and
are to be at Ashe to-morrow. I intended to call on the Miss Biggs
yesterday had the weather been tolerable. Caroline, Anna, and I have
just been devouring some cold souse, and it would be difficult to say
which enjoyed it most.Tell
Mary that I make over Mr. Heartley and all his estate to her for her
sole use and benefit in future, and not only him, but all my other
admirers into the bargain wherever she can find them, even the kiss
which C. Powlett wanted to give me, as I mean to confine myself in
future to Mr. Tom Lefroy, for whom I don't care sixpence. Assure her
also, as a last and indubitable proof of Warren's indifference to me,
that he actually drew that gentleman's picture for me, and delivered
it to me without a sigh.Friday.—At
length the day is come on which I am to flirt my last with Tom
Lefroy, and when you receive this it will be over. My tears flow as I
write at the melancholy idea. Wm. Chute called here yesterday. I
wonder what he means by being so civil. There is a report that Tom is
going to be married to a Lichfield lass. John Lyford and his sister
bring Edward home to-day, dine with us, and we shall all go together
to Ashe. I understand that we are to draw for partners. I shall be
extremely impatient to hear from you again, that I may know how Eliza
is, and when you are to return.With
best love, etc., I am affectionately yours,J.
Austen.Miss
Austen,The
Rev. Mr. Fowle's, Kintbury, Newbury
II.
Cork
Street, Tuesday morn (August, 1796).My
dear Cassandra,—Here I am once more in this scene of dissipation
and vice, and I begin already to find my morals corrupted. We reached
Staines yesterday, I do not (know) when, without suffering so much
from the heat as I had hoped to do. We set off again this morning at
seven o'clock, and had a very pleasant drive, as the morning was
cloudy and perfectly cool. I came all the way in the chaise from
Hertford Bridge.Edward[1]
and Frank[2]
are both gone out to seek their fortunes; the latter is to return
soon and help us seek ours. The former we shall never see again. We
are to be at Astley's to-night, which I am glad of. Edward has heard
from Henry this morning. He has not been at the races at all, unless
his driving Miss Pearson over to Rowling one day can be so called. We
shall find him there on Thursday.I
hope you are all alive after our melancholy parting yesterday, and
that you pursued your intended avocation with success. God bless you!
I must leave off, for we are going out.Yours
very affectionately,J.
Austen.Everybody's
love.FOOTNOTES:[1]
Miss Austen's second brother.[2]
Francis, afterward Sir Francis Austen, Senior Admiral of the Fleet,
and K. C. B.
III.
Rowling,
Monday (September 5).My
dear Cassandra,—I shall be extremely anxious to hear the event of
your ball, and shall hope to receive so long and minute an account of
every particular that I shall be tired of reading it. Let me know how
many, besides their fourteen selves and Mr. and Mrs. Wright, Michael
will contrive to place about their coach, and how many of the
gentlemen, musicians, and waiters he will have persuaded to come in
their shooting-jackets. I hope John Lovett's accident will not
prevent his attending the ball, as you will otherwise be obliged to
dance with Mr. Tincton the whole evening. Let me know how J. Harwood
deports himself without the Miss Biggs, and which of the Marys will
carry the day with my brother James.We
were at a ball on Saturday, I assure you. We dined at Goodnestone,
and in the evening danced two country-dances and the Boulangeries. I
opened the ball with Edward Bridges; the other couples were Lewis
Cage and Harriet, Frank and Louisa, Fanny and George. Elizabeth
played one country-dance, Lady Bridges the other, which she made
Henry dance with her, and Miss Finch played the Boulangeries.In
reading over the last three or four lines, I am aware of my having
expressed myself in so doubtful a manner that if I did not tell you
to the contrary, you might imagine it was Lady Bridges who made Henry
dance with her at the same time that she was playing, which, if not
impossible, must appear a very improbable event to you. But it was
Elizabeth who danced. We supped there, and walked home at night under
the shade of two umbrellas.To-day
the Goodnestone party begins to disperse and spread itself abroad.
Mr. and Mrs. Cage and George repair to Hythe. Lady Waltham, Miss
Bridges, and Miss Mary Finch to Dover, for the health of the two
former. I have never seen Marianne at all. On Thursday Mr. and Mrs.
Bridges return to Danbury; Miss Harriet Hales accompanies them to
London on her way to Dorsetshire.Farmer
Claringbould died this morning, and I fancy Edward means to get some
of his farm, if he can cheat Sir Brook enough in the agreement.We
have just got some venison from Godmersham, which the two Mr. Harveys
are to dine on to-morrow, and on Friday or Saturday the Goodnestone
people are to finish their scraps. Henry went away on Friday, as he
purposed, without
fayl. You will hear
from him soon, I imagine, as he talked of writing to Steventon
shortly. Mr. Richard Harvey is going to be married; but as it is a
great secret, and only known to half the neighborhood, you must not
mention it. The lady's name is Musgrave.I
am in great distress. I cannot determine whether I shall give Richis
half a guinea or only five shillings when I go away. Counsel me,
amiable Miss Austen, and tell me which will be the most.We
walked Frank last night to Crixhall Ruff, and he appeared much
edified. Little Edward was breeched yesterday for good and all, and
was whipped into the bargain.Pray
remember me to everybody who does not inquire after me; those who do,
remember me without bidding. Give my love to Mary Harrison, and tell
her I wish, whenever she is attached to a young man, some respectable
Dr. Marchmont may keep them apart for five volumes....
IV.
Rowling,
Thursday (September 15).
My
dear Cassandra,—We have been very gay since I wrote last; dining at
Nackington, returning by moonlight, and everything quite in style,
not to mention Mr. Claringbould's funeral which we saw go by on
Sunday. I believe I told you in a former letter that Edward had some
idea of taking the name of Claringbould; but that scheme is over,
though it would be a very eligible as well as a very pleasant plan,
would any one advance him money enough to begin on. We rather
expected Mr. Milles to have done so on Tuesday; but to our great
surprise nothing was said on the subject, and unless it is in your
power to assist your brother with five or six hundred pounds, he must
entirely give up the idea.
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!