Complete Works of Jane Austen (426 page)

For the cancelled chapter in
Persuasion
, and for other posthumous writings of the author, we will refer our readers to the second edition of the
Memoir
. They will not fail to note the delicate touches put to the characters of the Crofts by the Admiral’s triumph over the servant who was ‘denying’ Mrs. Croft, and by the frequent excursions of husband and wife together ‘upstairs to hear a noise, or downstairs to settle their accounts, or upon the landing to trim the lamp.’ But the added chapters take one altogether into a higher province of fiction, where the deepest emotion and the most delicate humour are blended in one scene: a scene that makes one think that, had its author lived, we might have had later masterpieces of a different type from that of their predecessors.

Persuasion
is of about the same length as
Northanger Abbey
, and it seems natural to suppose that there was some purpose in this similarity, and that the two works were intended to be published together — as in the end they were — each as a two-volume novel. She certainly contemplated the publication of
Northanger Abbey
(which at that stage bore the name of
Catherine
) after she had recovered it in 1816, and when she wrote the ‘advertisement’ which appears in the first edition of the book. Yet afterwards she seems rather to have gone back from this intention. Writing to Fanny Knight, March 13, 1817, she says: —

I
will
answer your kind questions more than you expect.
Miss Catherine
is put upon the shelf for the present, and I do not know that she will ever come out; but I have a something ready for publication, which may perhaps appear about a twelvemonth hence. It is short — about the length of
Catherine
. This is for yourself alone.

Catherine
is of course
Northanger Abbey
, and the ‘something’ is
Persuasion
. She returns to the latter in writing again to Fanny, March 23, telling her she will not like it, and adding ‘You may perhaps like the heroine, as she is almost too good for me.’

Two remarkable points in these extracts are: the statement that
Persuasion
was ‘ready for publication,’ but was not to appear for a twelvemonth, and the idea that the character of the heroine was, as it were, imposed upon the author by an external force which she was powerless to resist. The intended delay in publishing
Persuasion
shows how unwilling she was to let anything go till she was quite sure she had polished it to the utmost: and we may imagine that, had health returned, the one comparatively dull and lifeless part of the book — the long story of Mrs. Smith — would have been somehow or other brought to life by touches which she knew so well how to impart.

As for the doubt about publishing
Catherine
at all, it was not unnatural. She might reasonably hesitate to put an immature work by the side of her most mature: she might (and we know that she
did
) feel that the social usages of sixteen years ago, which she was describing in this tale, were no longer those of the day; and it was possible that a satire on Mrs. Radcliffe was not what the public now wanted. The members of the Austen family, who managed the publication of her novels after her death, thought differently; and we are grateful to them for having done so.

Had she followed all the advice given her by her friends, she would have produced something very different from either
Northanger Abbey
or
Persuasion
. It must have been in the course of the year 1816 that she drew up the following ‘plan of a novel, according to hints from various quarters,’ adding below the names of the friends who gave the hints.

Scene to be in the country. Heroine, the daughter of a clergyman: one who, after having lived much in the world, had retired from it, and settled on a curacy with a very small fortune of his own. He, the most excellent man that can be imagined, perfect in character, temper, and manners, without the smallest drawback or peculiarity to prevent his being the most delightful companion to his daughter from one year’s end to the other. Heroine, a faultless character herself, perfectly good, with much tenderness and sentiment and not the least wit, very highly accomplished, understanding modern languages, and (generally speaking) everything that the most accomplished young women learn, but particularly excelling in music — her favourite pursuit — and playing equally well on the pianoforte and harp, and singing in the first style. Her person quite beautiful, dark eyes and plump cheeks. Book to open with the description of father and daughter, who are to converse in long speeches, elegant language, and a tone of high serious sentiment. The father to be induced, at his daughter’s earnest request, to relate to her the past events of his life. This narrative will reach through the greater part of the first volume; as besides all the circumstances of his attachment to her mother, and their marriage, it will comprehend his going to sea as chaplain to a distinguished naval character about the Court; his going afterwards to Court himself, which introduced him to a great variety of characters and involved him in many interesting situations, concluding with his opinion of the benefits of tithes being done away, and his having buried his own mother (heroine’s lamented grandmother) in consequence of the High Priest of the parish in which she died refusing to pay her remains the respect due to them. The father to be of a very literary turn, an enthusiast in literature, nobody’s enemy but his own; at the same time most zealous in the discharge of his pastoral duties, the model of an exemplary parish priest. The heroine’s friendship to be sought after by a young woman in the same neighbourhood, of talents and shrewdness, with light eyes and a fair skin, but having a considerable degree of wit; heroine shall shrink from the acquaintance. From this outset the story will proceed and contain a striking variety of adventures. Heroine and her father never above a fortnight together in one place: he being driven from his curacy by the vile arts of some totally unprincipled and heartless young man, desperately in love with the heroine, and pursuing her with unrelenting passion. No sooner settled in one country of Europe than they are necessitated to quit it and retire to another, always making new acquaintance, and always obliged to leave them. This will, of course, exhibit a wide variety of characters, but there will be no mixture. The scene will be for ever shifting from one set of people to another; but all the good will be unexceptionable in every respect, and there will be no foibles or weaknesses but with the wicked, who will be completely depraved and infamous, hardly a resemblance of humanity left in them. Early in her career, in the progress of her first removal, heroine must meet with the hero — all perfection, of course, and only prevented from paying his addresses to her by some excess of refinement. Wherever she goes somebody falls in love with her, and she receives repeated offers of marriage, which she always refers wholly to her father, exceedingly angry that
he
should not be first applied to. Often carried away by the anti-hero, but rescued either by her father or the hero. Often reduced to support herself and her father by her talents, and work for her bread; continually cheated and defrauded of her hire; worn down to a skeleton, and now and then starved to death. At last, hunted out of civilised society, denied the poor shelter of the humblest cottage, they are compelled to retreat into Kamschatka, where the poor father, quite worn down, finding his end approaching, throws himself on the ground, and, after four or five hours of tender advice and parental admonition to his miserable child, expires in a fine burst of literary enthusiasm, intermingled with invectives against holders of tithes. Heroine inconsolable for some time, but afterwards crawls back towards her former country, having at least twenty narrow escapes of falling into the hands of anti-hero; and at last, in the very nick of time, turning a corner to avoid him, runs into the arms of the hero himself, who, having just shaken off the scruples which fettered him before, was at the very moment setting off in pursuit of her. The tenderest and completest
éclaircissement
takes place, and they are happily united. Throughout the whole work heroine to be in the most elegant society, and living in high style. The name of the work not to be
Emma
, but of same sort as
Sense and Sensibility
and
Pride and Prejudice
.

CHAPTER XIX. AUNT JANE

1814-1817

Any attempt at depicting the charm and attractiveness of Jane Austen’s character must be quite incomplete if it fails to take into account the special manner in which she showed these qualities as an aunt. She herself says in joke to a young niece that she had always maintained the importance of aunts; and she evidently felt, in all seriousness, the responsibility of that relationship, though she would have been one of the last to display her sense of it by any didactic or authoritative utterance. The author of the
Memoir
tells us that her two nieces who were grown up in her lifetime could say how valuable to them had been her advice in ‘the little difficulties and doubts of early womanhood’; and Lord Brabourne quotes here and there extracts from his mother’s diary, such as these: ‘Aunt Jane and I had a very interesting conversation’; ‘Aunt Jane and I had a delicious morning together’; ‘Aunt Jane and I very snug’; and so on, until the sad ending: ‘I had the misery of losing my dear Aunt Jane after a lingering illness.’

Some letters of hers to three of her nieces give a good idea of her value and importance to them, whether as grown women or as children.

Fanny Knight, sensible as she was, and early accustomed to responsibility, felt at a loss how to distinguish in her own mind between inclination and love when seriously courted in 1814 by a man of unexceptionable position and character. A reference to her aunt brought her two delightful letters. No definite opinion was expressed or formal advice given in these letters, but they must have helped her by their sympathy, and cleared her mind by the steadiness with which they contemplated the case in all its bearings.

Chawton: Friday [November 18, 1814].

I feel quite as doubtful as you could be, my dearest Fanny, as to
when
my letter may be finished, for I can command very little quiet time at present; but yet I must begin, for I know you will be glad to hear as soon as possible, and I really am impatient myself to be writing something on so very interesting a subject, though I have no hope of writing anything to the purpose. I shall do very little more, I dare say, than say over again what you have said before.

I was certainly a good deal surprised
at first
, as I had no suspicion of any change in your feelings, and I have no scruple in saying that you cannot be in love. My dear Fanny, I am ready to laugh at the idea, and yet it is no laughing matter to have had you so mistaken as to your own feelings. And with all my heart I wish I had cautioned you on that point when first you spoke to me; but, though I did not think you then
much
in love, I did consider you as being attached in a degree quite sufficiently for happiness, as I had no doubt it would increase with opportunity, and from the time of our being in London together I thought you really very much in love. But you certainly are not at all — there is no concealing it.

What strange creatures we are! It seems as if your being secure of him had made you indifferent.

He is just what he ever was, only more evidently and uniformly devoted to
you
. This is all the difference. How shall we account for it?

My dearest Fanny, I am writing what will not be of the smallest use to you. I am feeling differently every moment, and shall not be able to suggest a single thing that can assist your mind. I could lament in one sentence and laugh in the next, but as to opinion or counsel I am sure that none will be extracted worth having from this letter.

Poor dear Mr. A.! Oh, dear Fanny! your mistake has been one that thousands of women fall into. He was the
first
young man who attached himself to you. That was the charm, and most powerful it is. Among the multitudes, however, that make the same mistake with yourself, there can be few indeed who have so little reason to regret it;
his
character and
his
attachment leave you nothing to be ashamed of.

Upon the whole, what is to be done? You have no inclination for any other person. His situation in life, family, friends, and, above all, his character, his uncommonly amiable mind, strict principles, just notions, good habits,
all
that
you
know so well how to value,
all
that is really of the first importance — everything of this nature pleads his cause most strongly. You have no doubt of his having superior abilities, he has proved it at the University; he is, I dare say, such a scholar as your agreeable, idle brothers would ill bear a comparison with.

Oh, my dear Fanny! the more I write about him the warmer my feelings become — the more strongly I feel the sterling worth of such a young man and the desirableness of your growing in love with him again. I recommend this most thoroughly. There
are
such beings in the world, perhaps one in a thousand, as the creature you and I should think perfection, where grace and spirit are united to worth, where the manners are equal to the heart and understanding; but such a person may not come in your way, or, if he does, he may not be the eldest son of a man of fortune, the near relation of your particular friend, and belonging to your own county.

Think of all this, Fanny. Mr. A. has advantages which we do not often meet in one person. His only fault, indeed, seems modesty. If he were less modest he would be more agreeable, speak louder, and look impudenter; and is not it a fine character of which modesty is the only defect? I have no doubt he will get more lively and more like yourselves as he is more with you; he will catch your ways if he belongs to you. And, as to there being any objection from his
goodness
, from the danger of his becoming even evangelical, I cannot admit
that
. I am by no means convinced that we ought not all to be evangelicals, and am at least persuaded that they who are so from reason and feeling must be happiest and safest.