Complete Works of Jane Austen (422 page)

We must not forget, however, the author’s strong denial of depicting individuals, and her declaration that she was too proud of her gentlemen ‘to admit that they were only Mr. A. or Colonel B.’; nor yet her modest confession, when speaking of two of her favourites — Edmund Bertram and Mr. Knightley — that she was aware they were ‘very far from what I know English gentlemen often are.’

Jane Austen may perhaps enjoy the distinction of having added words or expressions to colloquial English. The name ‘Collins’ is almost established as the description of a letter of thanks after a visit; and we have heard of a highly intelligent family among whom a guinea is always alluded to as ‘something considerable’ in memory of the sum believed (on the authority of the
Memoir
) to have been given to William Price by Aunt Norris.

CHAPTER XVII. EMMA

1814-1815

The last letter but one of the foregoing chapter contains two sentences mentioning the writer’s brother, Mr. Knight, which will help us to carry on our story.

Writing on March 5, 1814, Jane says: ‘It is a nasty day for everybody. Edward’s spirits will be wanting sunshine, and here is nothing but thickness and sleet’; and towards the conclusion of the same letter we find the following: ‘Perhaps you have not heard that Edward has a good chance of escaping his lawsuit. His opponent “knocks under.” The terms of agreement are not quite settled.’

There can, we think, be little doubt that both passages — the depressed and the hopeful — refer to a claim over Edward’s Hampshire property made by some of the heirs-at-law of the former Knight family whom the Brodnaxes of Godmersham had succeeded. Unfortunately, the cheerful forecast contained in the second passage did not prove to be in accordance with the facts. The lawsuit hung on for three years and was then compromised by Mr. Knight’s paying a large sum of money.

Perhaps the claim also had its influence in producing the one unflattering estimate of Jane which we shall have to lay before the reader.

Miss Mitford was a convinced — but apparently a reluctant — admirer of her genius; and she dwells without disguise on what she considers the want of taste in
Pride and Prejudice
, though even here she adds that Miss Austen ‘wants nothing but the
beau idéal
of the female character to be a perfect novel writer.’

In another letter she refers to her mother’s unfavourable reminiscences of Jane Austen as a husband-hunter; although Mrs. Mitford’s remark must (as we have already pointed out) have been based on an entire misrepresentation, owing to Jane’s youthful age at the time when that lady could have known her.

She proceeds thus: —

A friend of mine who visits her now, says that she has stiffened into the most perpendicular, precise, taciturn piece of ‘single blessedness’ that ever existed, and that, till
Pride and Prejudice
showed what a precious gem was hidden in that unbending case, she was no more regarded in society than a poker or a fire-screen, or any other thin, upright piece of wood or iron that fills the corner in peace and quietness. The case is very different now: she is still a poker — but a poker of whom every one is afraid. It must be confessed that this silent observation from such an observer is rather formidable. Most writers are good-humoured chatterers — neither very wise nor very witty; but nine times out of ten (at least in the few that I have known) unaffected and pleasant, and quite removing by their conversation any fear that may have been excited by their works. But a wit, a delineator of character, who does not talk, is terrific indeed!

Miss Mitford has, however, the candour to add a qualification which diminishes the force of her earlier remarks, and bears upon our present subject. She says: —

After all, I do not know that I can quite vouch for this account, though the friend from whom I received it is truth itself; but her family connexions must render her disagreeable to Miss Austen, since she is the sister-in-law of a gentleman who is at law with Miss A.’s brother for the greater part of his fortune. You must have remarked how much her stories hinge upon entailed estates — doubtless she has learnt to dislike entails. Her brother was adopted by a Mr. Knight, who left him his name and two much better legacies in an estate of five thousand a year in Kent, and another of nearly double the value in Hampshire; but it seems he forgot some ceremony — passing a fine, I think they call it — with regard to the Hampshire property, which Mr. Baverstock has claimed in right of his mother, together with the mesne rents, and is likely to be successful.

Miss Mitford, indeed, could hardly have done less, after repeating this somewhat spiteful gossip, than mention the hostile quarter from which it arose. We have considered it right to quote part of it, as the writer is an author of some note: but we venture to think that those readers who have accompanied us so far will believe that Jane was guilty of nothing worse than being shy, and talking but little among strangers; and that such strangers as knew something of her literary ability believed, but were quite wrong in believing, that she was taking stock of their peculiarities with a view to introducing them into her next novel.

Jane had now completed the first of three visits which she was to pay to Henry this year, and Cassandra was in London in her place; while the Godmersham party were spending two months at Chawton. The two following letters were written by Jane from Chawton in anticipation of a visit to the Cookes at Bookham. Incidentally, Mr. Cooke’s remark (quoted in the first) shows that
Mansfield Park
was already published. We must not forget, however, that its author had been, since January 1814, deep in the composition of
Emma
, and she would be sure to use a visit to the neighbourhood of Leatherhead and Box Hill to verify geographical and other details for her new work. Since her fame was fully established, there have been many attempts to identify the locality of Highbury. ‘There is a school of serious students who place it at Esher; another band of enthusiasts support Dorking’; but Mr. E. V. Lucas, in his introduction to a recent edition of the novel, prefers the claim of Leatherhead, which, he says, is rightly placed as regards London and Kingston, and not far wrong as regards Box Hill. Near Leatherhead is a house called ‘Randalls’; and in 1761 the vestry of the parish paid their thanks ‘in the most respectful manner to Mr. Knightley,’ who had remodelled the pulpit and reading-desk of the church.

Cobham should be mentioned as another possible alternative, as the distances from London, Richmond, Kingston, and Box Hill suit well. But the most probable supposition of all is that the author purposely avoided identifying it with any one village, while sufficiently defining its position in the county of Surrey.

Chawton: Tuesday [June 14, 1814].

My dearest Cassandra, — Fanny takes my mother to Alton this morning, which gives me an opportunity of sending you a few lines without any other trouble than that of writing them.

This is a delightful day in the country, and I hope not much too hot for town. Well, you had a good journey, I trust, and all that, and not rain enough to spoil your bonnet. It appeared so likely to be a wet evening that I went up to the Gt. House between three and four, and dawdled away an hour very comfortably, though Edwd. was not very brisk. The air was clearer in the evening and he was better. We all five walked together into the kitchen garden and along the Gosport road, and they drank tea with us.

The only letter to-day is from Mrs. Cooke to me. They do not leave home till July, and want me to come to them, according to my promise. And, after considering everything, I have resolved on going.

In addition to their standing claims on me they admire
Mansfield Park
exceedingly. Mr. Cooke says ‘it is the most sensible novel he ever read,’ and the manner in which I treat the clergy delights them very much. Altogether, I must go, and I want you to join me there when your visit in Henrietta St. is over. Put this into your capacious head.

Take care of yourself, and do not be trampled to death in running after the Emperor. The report in Alton yesterday was that they would certainly travel this road either to or from Portsmouth. I long to know what this bow of the Prince’s will produce.

Thursday [June 23].

I heard yesterday from Frank. When he began his letter he hoped to be here on Monday, but before it was ended he had been told that the naval review would not take place till Friday, which would probably occasion him some delay, as he cannot get some necessary business of his own attended to while Portsmouth is in such a bustle. I hope Fanny has seen the Emperor, and then I may fairly wish them all away. I go to-morrow, and hope for some delays and adventures.

Henry at White’s! Oh, what a Henry! I do not know what to wish as to Miss B., so I will hold my tongue and my wishes.

We have called upon Miss Dusantoy and Miss Papillon, and been very pretty. Miss D. has a great idea of being Fanny Price — she and her youngest sister together, who is named Fanny.

Yours very affectionately,
J. Austen.

Jane’s visit to Bookham began on June 24, as soon as the Knights had left Chawton. She was to be away for more than a fortnight, and must have been at Chawton again for a month till the middle of August, when she once more went to join Henry in London. On this occasion she had no rich brother to take her in his carriage, and was forced to come by Yalden’s somewhat crowded coach — four inside and fifteen on the top. Henry had moved between June and August, finding a house in his old neighbourhood at 23 Hans Place. Next to him (but separated from him by the entrance to the Pavilion, now the road leading to Pont Street), at No. 22, was the St. Quentins’ celebrated school, at which Miss Mitford had been a pupil, as well as Miss Landon and Lady Caroline Lamb. Three doors off, at No. 26, lived Henry’s partner, Mr. Tilson, with whom it was possible to converse across the intermediate gardens.

23 Hans Place: Tuesday morning [August, 1814].

My Dear Cassandra, — I had a very good journey, not crowded, two of the three taken up at Bentley being children, the others of a reasonable size; and they were all very quiet and civil. We were late in London, from being a great load, and from changing coaches at Farnham; it was nearly four, I believe, when we reached Sloane Street. Henry himself met me, and as soon as my trunk and basket could be routed out from all the other trunks and baskets in the world, we were on our way to Hans Place in the luxury of a nice, large, cool, dirty hackney coach.

There were four in the kitchen part of Yalden, and I was told fifteen at top, among them Percy Benn. We met in the same room at Egham, but poor Percy was not in his usual spirits. He would be more chatty, I dare say, in his way
from
Woolwich. We took up a young Gibson at Holybourn, and, in short, everybody either
did
come up by Yalden yesterday, or wanted to come up. It put me in mind of my own coach between Edinburgh and Stirling.

It is a delightful place — more than answers my expectation. Having got rid of my unreasonable ideas, I find more space and comfort in the rooms than I had supposed, and the garden is quite a love. I am in the front attic, which is the bedchamber to be preferred.

Wednesday.
— I got the willow yesterday, as Henry was not quite ready when I reached Hen
a.
St. I saw Mr. Hampson there for a moment. He dines here to-morrow and proposed bringing his son; so I must submit to seeing George Hampson, though I had hoped to go through life without it. It was one of my vanities, like your not reading
Patronage
.

Is not this all that can have happened or been arranged? Not quite. Henry wants me to see more of his Hanwell favourite, and has written to invite her to spend a day or two here with me. His scheme is to fetch her on Saturday. I am more and more convinced that he will marry again soon, and like the idea of
her
better than of anybody else, at hand.

Yours very truly and affectionately,
Jane.

Miss Austen, Chawton.
By favour of Mr. Gray.

All through this year and the early part of the next,
Emma
(begun January 1814, finished March 29, 1815) was assiduously worked at. Although polished to the highest degree, it was more quickly composed than any previous work and gave evidence of a practised hand. It was also the most ‘Austenish’ of all her novels, carrying out most completely her idea of what was fitted to her tastes and capacities. She enjoyed having a heroine ‘whom no one would like but herself,’ and working on ‘three or four families in a country village.’
Emma
appeals therefore more exclusively than any of the others to an inner circle of admirers: but such admirers may possibly place it at the head of her compositions. There are no stirring incidents; there is no change of scene. The heroine, whose society we enjoy throughout, never sleeps away from home, and even there sees only so much company as an invalid father can welcome. No character in the book is ill, no one is ruined, there is no villain, and no paragon. On the other hand, the plot is admirably contrived and never halts; while the mysteries — exclusively mysteries of courtship and love — are excellently maintained. Emma never expresses any opinion which is thoroughly sound, and seldom makes any forecast which is not belied by the event, yet we always recognise her acuteness, and she by degrees obtains our sympathy. The book also illustrates to the highest degree the author’s power of drawing humorous characters; Miss Bates, Mr. Woodhouse, and Mrs. Elton in the first class, and Harriet Smith in the second. And the humour is always essential to the delineation of character — it is never an excrescence. It also depends more on what is said than on any tricks of speech; there are no catch-words, and every one speaks practically the same excellent English. Besides this,
Emma
also gives a very good instance of the author’s habit of building up her characters almost entirely without formal description, and leaving analysis to her readers.