Chapter XVI: Mansfield Park

1812-1814

Jane was now about to pay what proved to be her last visit to Godmersham. On the way thither she, with one division of the Knight family party, halted for a couple of days in London, to stay with Henry at 10 Henrietta Street.

Henrietta Street:
Wednesday [September 15, 1813, 1/2 past 8].

Here I am, my dearest Cassandra, seated in the
breakfast-, dining-, sitting-room, beginning with
all my might. Fanny will join me as soon as she is
dressed and begin her letter.

We arrived at a quarter-past four, and were kindly
welcomed by the coachman, and then by his master,
and then by William, and then by Mrs. Perigord,[257]
who all met us before we reached the foot of the
stairs. Mde. Bigeon was below dressing us a most
comfortable dinner of soup, fish, bouillee, partridges,
and an apple tart, which we sat down to soon after
five, after cleaning and dressing ourselves, and
feeling that we were most commodiously disposed of.
The little adjoining dressing-room to our apartment
makes Fanny and myself very well off indeed, and as
we have poor Eliza's bed our space is ample every
way.

Lady Robert is delighted with _P. and P._,[258]
and really _was_ so, as I understand, before she
knew who wrote it, for, of course, she knows now.
He told her with as much satisfaction as if it
were my wish. He did not tell _me_ this, but he
told Fanny. And Mr. Hastings! I am quite delighted
with what such a man writes about it. Henry sent
him the books after his return from Daylesford,
but you will hear the letter too.

* * * * *

Fanny and the two little girls are gone to take
places for to-night at Covent Garden; _Clandestine
Marriage_ and _Midas_. The latter will be a fine
show for L. and M.[259] They revelled last night
in _Don Juan_, whom we left in hell at half-past
eleven. We had scaramouch and a ghost, and were
delighted. I speak of _them_; _my_ delight was
very tranquil, and the rest of us were
sober-minded. _Don Juan_ was the last of three
musical things. _Five Hours at Brighton_, in three
acts--of which one was over before we arrived,
none the worse--and the _Beehive_, rather less
flat and trumpery.

* * * * *

Miss Hare had some pretty caps, and is to make me
one like one of them, only _white_ satin instead
of blue. It will be white satin and lace, and a
little white flower perking out of the left ear,
like Harriot Byron's feather. I have allowed her
to go as far as L1 16_s._ My gown is to be trimmed
everywhere with white ribbon plaited on somehow or
other. She says it will look well. I am not
sanguine. They trim with white very much.

* * * * *

Mr. Hall was very punctual yesterday, and curled
me out at a great rate. I thought it looked
hideous, and longed for a snug cap instead, but my
companions silenced me by their admiration.

We had very good places in the box next the
stage-box, front and second row; the three old
ones behind of course. I was particularly
disappointed at seeing nothing of Mr. Crabbe. I
felt sure of him when I saw that the boxes were
fitted up with crimson velvet.

* * * * *

It was not possible for me to get the worsteds
yesterday. I heard Edward last night pressing
Henry to come to [? Godmersham], and I think Henry
engaged to go there after his November
collection.[260] Nothing has been done as to _S.
and S._ The books came to hand too late for him to
have time for it before he went.

* * * * *

I long to have you hear Mr. H.'s opinion of _P.
and P._ His admiring my Elizabeth so much is
particularly welcome to me.

Miss Austen, Chawton.

Her delight at the appreciation of her book by Warren Hastings may be compared with a passage from Madame d'Arblay's diary, which forms a curious link between the two writers.

Mrs. Cooke [Jane Austen's cousin], my excellent
neighbour, came in just now to read me a paragraph
of a letter from Mrs. Leigh of Oxfordshire, her
sister.[261] . . . After much civility about the new
work [_Camilla_] and its author, it finishes thus:
'Mr. Hastings I saw just now; I told him what was
going forward; he gave a great jump and exclaimed:
"Well, then, now I can serve her, thank heaven,
and I will! I will write to Anderson to engage
Scotland, and I will attack the East Indies
myself."'[262]

Henrietta Street:
Thursday [September 16, 1813, after dinner].

Thank you, my dearest Cassandra, for the nice long
letter I sent off this morning.

* * * * *

We are now all four of us young ladies sitting
round the circular table in the inner room writing
our letters, while the two brothers are having a
comfortable coze in the room adjoining. It is to
be a quiet evening, much to the satisfaction of
four of the six. My eyes are quite tired of dust
and lamps.

* * * * *

We . . . went to Wedgwood's, where my brother and
Fanny chose a dinner set. I believe the pattern is
a small lozenge in purple, between lines of narrow
gold, and it is to have the crest.

* * * * *

With love to you all, including Triggs,[263] I
remain,

Yours very affectionately,
J. AUSTEN.

The journey from London to Godmersham was no doubt duly narrated in a letter now missing. Those from Godmersham are filled with the ordinary comings and goings of a large family party, and allusions to Kent neighbours--of whom Cassandra would know just enough to be interested in their proceedings.

Godmersham Park:
Thursday [September 23, 1813].

MY DEAREST CASSANDRA,--Thank you five hundred and
forty times for the exquisite piece of workmanship
which was brought into the room this morning,
while we were at breakfast, with some very
inferior works of art in the same way, and which I
read with high glee, much delighted with
everything it told, whether good or bad. It is so
rich in striking intelligence that I hardly know
what to reply to first. I believe finery must have
it.

I am extremely glad that you like the poplin. I
thought it would have my mother's approbation, but
was not so confident of yours. Remember that it is
a present. Do not refuse me. I am very rich.

* * * * *

Let me know when you begin the new tea, and the
new white wine. My present elegancies have not yet
made me indifferent to such matters. I am still a
cat if I see a mouse.

* * * * *

''Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more,'
but to make amends for that, our visit to the
Tyldens is over. My brother, Fanny, Edwd., and I
went; Geo. stayed at home with W. K. There was
nothing entertaining, or out of the common way. We
met only Tyldens and double Tyldens. A whist-table
for the gentlemen, a grown-up musical young lady
to play backgammon with Fanny, and engravings of
the Colleges at Cambridge for me. In the morning
we returned Mrs. Sherer's visit. I like _Mr._
S.[264] very much.

* * * * *

Poor Dr. Isham is obliged to admire _P. and P._,
and to send me word that he is sure he shall not
like Madame D'Arblay's new novel[265] half so
well. Mrs. C[ooke] invented it all, of course. He
desires his compliments to you and my mother.

* * * * *

I am now alone in the library, mistress of all I
survey; at least I may say so, and repeat the
whole poem if I like it, without offence to
anybody.

I have _this_ moment seen Mrs. Driver driven up
to the kitchen door. I cannot close with a grander
circumstance or greater wit.

Yours affectionately,
J. A.
Miss Austen, Chawton.

The next of Jane's surviving letters was addressed to her brother Frank.

Godmersham Park [September 25, 1813].[266]

MY DEAREST FRANK,--The 11th of this month brought
me your letter, and I assure you I thought it very
well worth its two and three-pence. I am very much
obliged to you for filling me so long a sheet of
paper; you are a good one to traffic with in that
way, you pay most liberally; my letter was a
scratch of a note compared to yours, and then you
write so even, so clear, both in style and
penmanship, so much to the point, and give so much
intelligence, that it is enough to kill one. I am
sorry Sweden is so poor, and my riddle so bad. The
idea of a fashionable bathing-place in
Mecklenberg! How can people pretend to be
fashionable or to bathe out of England? Rostock
market makes one's mouth water; our cheapest
butcher's meat is double the price of theirs;
nothing under nine-pence all this summer, and I
believe upon recollection nothing under ten-pence.
Bread has sunk and is likely to sink more, which
we hope may make meat sink too. But I have no
occasion to think of the price of bread or of meat
where I am now; let me shake off vulgar cares and
conform to the happy indifference of East Kent
wealth. I wonder whether you and the King of
Sweden knew that I was come to Godmersham with my
brother. Yes, I suppose you have received due
notice of it by some means or other. I have not
been here these four years, so I am sure the
event deserves to be talked of before and behind,
as well as in the middle. We left Chawton on the
14th, spent two entire days in town, and arrived
here on the 17th. My brother, Fanny, Lizzie,
Marianne and I composed this division of the
family, and filled his carriage inside and out.
Two post-chaises, under the escort of George,
conveyed eight more across the country, the chair
brought two, two others came on horseback, and the
rest by coach, and so by one means or another, we
all are removed. It puts me in remind of St.
Paul's shipwreck, when all are said, by different
means, to reach the shore in safety. I left my
mother, Cassandra, and Martha well, and have had
good accounts of them since. At present they are
quite alone, but they are going to be visited by
Mrs. Heathcote and Miss Bigg, and to have a few
days of Henry's company likewise.

* * * * *

Of our three evenings in town, one was spent at
the Lyceum, and another at Covent Garden. _The
Clandestine Marriage_ was the most respectable of
the performances, the rest were sing-song and
trumpery; but it did very well for Lizzie and
Marianne, who were indeed delighted, but I wanted
better acting. There was no actor worth naming. I
believe the theatres are thought at a very low ebb
at present. Henry has probably sent you his own
account of his visit in Scotland. I wish he had
had more time, and could have gone further north,
and deviated to the lakes on his way back; but
what he was able to do seems to have afforded him
great enjoyment, and he met with scenes of higher
beauty in Roxburghshire than I had supposed the
South of Scotland possessed. Our nephew's
gratification was less keen than our brother's.
Edward is no enthusiast in the beauties of nature.
His enthusiasm is for the sports of the field
only. He is a very promising and pleasing young
man, however, behaves with great propriety to his
father, and great kindness to his brothers and
sisters, and we must forgive his thinking more of
grouse and partridges than lakes and mountains.

* * * * *

In this house there is a constant succession of
small events, somebody is always going or coming;
this morning we had Edward Bridges unexpectedly to
breakfast with us, on his way from Ramsgate, where
is his wife, to Lenham, where is his church, and
to-morrow he dines and sleeps here on his return.
They have been all the summer at Ramsgate for her
health; she is a poor honey--the sort of woman who
gives me the idea of being determined never to be
well and who likes her spasms and nervousness, and
the consequence they give her, better than
anything else. This is an ill-natured statement to
send all over the Baltic. The Mr. Knatchbulls,
dear Mrs. Knight's brothers, dined here the other
day. They came from the Friars, which is still on
their hands. The elder made many inquiries after
you. Mr. Sherer is quite a new Mr. Sherer to me; I
heard him for the first time last Sunday, and he
gave us an excellent sermon, a little too eager
sometimes in his delivery, but that is to me a
better extreme than the want of animation,
especially when it evidently comes from the heart,
as in him. The clerk is as much like you as ever.
I am always glad to see him on that account. But
the Sherers are going away. He has a bad curate at
Westwell, whom he can eject only by residing there
himself. He goes nominally for three years, and a
Mr. Paget is to have the curacy of Godmersham; a
married man, with a very musical wife, which I
hope may make her a desirable acquaintance to
Fanny.

I thank you very warmly for your kind consent to
my application,[267] and the kind hint which
followed it. I was previously aware of what I
should be laying myself open to; but the truth is
that the secret has spread so far as to be
scarcely the shadow of a secret now, and that, I
believe, whenever the third appears, I shall not
even attempt to tell lies about it. I shall rather
try to make all the money than all the mystery I
can of it. People shall pay for their knowledge if
I can make them. Henry heard _P. and P._ warmly
praised in Scotland by Lady Robert Kerr and
another lady; and what does he do, in the warmth
of his brotherly vanity and love, but immediately
tell them who wrote it? A thing once set going in
that way--one knows how it spreads, and he, dear
creature, has set it going so much more than once.
I know it is all done from affection and
partiality, but at the same time let me here again
express to you and Mary my sense of the _superior_
kindness which you have shown on the occasion in
doing what I wished. I am trying to harden myself.
After all, what a trifle it is, in all its
bearings, to the really important points of one's
existence, even in this world.

Your very affectionate sister,
J. A.

There is to be a second edition of _S. and S._
Egerton advises it.

* * * * *

The last paragraph of this letter sets two things plainly before us: a strong preference for remaining unknown if she could, and the invariable sweetness of temper which forbade her to blame a brother whom she loved because he had made such concealment impossible. That this acquiescence, however, was not reached without a struggle the last few words of the paragraph show.

Next follows a letter to Cassandra, dated Monday (October 11):--

We had our dinner party on Wednesday, with the
addition of Mrs. and Miss Milles. . . . Both mother
and daughter are much as I have always found them.
I like the mother--first, because she reminds me
of Mrs. Birch; and, secondly, because she is
cheerful and grateful for what she is at the age
of ninety and upwards. The day was pleasant
enough. I sat by Mr. Chisholme, and we talked away
at a great rate about nothing worth hearing.

* * * * *

Lizzie is very much obliged to you for your letter
and will answer it soon, but has so many things to
do that it may be four or five days before she
can. This is quite her own message, spoken in
rather a desponding tone. Your letter gave
pleasure to all of us; we had all the reading of
it of course, I _three times_, as I undertook, to
the great relief of Lizzie, to read it to
Sackree,[268] and afterwards to Louisa.

* * * * *

Mrs. ---- called here on Saturday. I never saw her
before. She is a large, ungenteel woman, with
self-satisfied and would-be elegant manners.

* * * * *

On Thursday, Mr. Lushington,[269] M.P. for
Canterbury, and manager of the Lodge Hounds, dines
here, and stays the night. He is chiefly young
Edward's acquaintance. If I can I will get a frank
from him, and write to you all the sooner. I
suppose the Ashford ball will furnish something.

* * * * *

I am looking over _Self-Control_ again, and my
opinion is confirmed of its being an
excellently-meant, elegantly-written work, without
anything of nature or probability in it. I
declare I do not know whether Laura's passage down
the American river is not the most natural,
possible, everyday thing she ever does.

* * * * *

_Tuesday._--I admire the sagacity and taste of
Charlotte Williams. Those large dark eyes always
judge well. I will compliment her by naming a
heroine after her.

* * * * *

Southey's _Life of Nelson_: I am tired of _Lives
of Nelson_, being that I never read any. I will
read this, however, if Frank is mentioned in it.

[October 14, 1813.]

Now I will prepare for Mr. Lushington, and as it
will be wisest also to prepare for his not coming,
or my not getting a frank, I shall write very
close from the first, and even leave room for the
seal in the proper place. When I have followed up
my last with this I shall feel somewhat less
unworthy of you than the state of our
correspondence now requires.

* * * * *

Mr. W. is about five-or six-and-twenty, not
ill-looking, and not agreeable. He is certainly no
addition. A sort of cool, gentlemanlike manner,
but very silent. They say his name is Henry, a
proof how unequally the gifts of fortune are
bestowed. I have seen many a John and Thomas much
more agreeable.

* * * * *

We did not go to the ball.[270] It was left to her
to decide, and at last she determined against it.
She knew that it would be a sacrifice on the part
of her father and brothers if they went, and I
hope it will prove that _she_ has not sacrificed
much. It is not likely that there should have been
anybody there whom she would care for. _I_ was
very glad to be spared the trouble of dressing and
going, and being weary before it was half over,
so my gown and my cap are still unworn. It will
appear at last, perhaps, that I might have done
without either. I produced my brown bombazine
yesterday, and it was very much admired indeed,
and I like it better than ever.

* * * * *

The comfort of the billiard-table here is very
great; it draws all the gentlemen to it whenever
they are within, especially after dinner, so that
my brother, Fanny, and I have the library to
ourselves in delightful quiet.

* * * * *

_Friday._--They[271] came last night at about
seven. We had given them up, but _I still_
expected them to come. Dessert was nearly over; a
better time for arriving than an hour and a half
earlier. They were late because they did not set
out earlier, and did not allow time enough.
Charles did not _aim_ at more than reaching
Sittingbourne by three, which could not have
brought them here by dinner time. They had a very
rough passage; he would not have ventured if he
had known how bad it would be.

* * * * *

However, here they are, safe and well, just like
their own nice selves, Fanny looking as neat and
white this morning as possible, and dear Charles
all affectionate, placid, quiet, cheerful good
humour. They are both looking very well, but poor
little Cassy is grown extremely thin, and looks
poorly. I hope a week's country air and exercise
may do her good. I am sorry to say it can be but a
week. The baby does not appear so large in
proportion as she was, nor quite so pretty, but I
have seen very little of her. Cassy was too tired
and bewildered just at first to seem to know
anybody. We met them in the hall--the women and
girl part of us--but before we reached the
library she kissed me very affectionately, and has
since seemed to recollect me in the same way.

It was quite an evening of confusion, as you may
suppose. At first we were all walking about from
one part of the house to the other; then came a
fresh dinner in the breakfast-room for Charles and
his wife, which Fanny and I attended; then we
moved into the library, were joined by the
dining-room people, were introduced, and so forth;
and then we had tea and coffee, which was not over
till past 10. Billiards again drew all the odd
ones away, and Edward, Charles, the two Fannies,
and I sat snugly talking. I shall be glad to have
our numbers a little reduced, and by the time you
receive this we shall be only a family, though a
large family, party. Mr. Lushington goes
to-morrow.

Now I must speak of _him_, and I like him very
much. I am sure he is clever, and a man of taste.
He got a volume of Milton last night, and spoke of
it with warmth. He is quite an M.P., very smiling,
with an exceeding good address and readiness of
language. I am rather in love with him. I dare say
he is ambitious and insincere. He puts me in mind
of Mr. Dundas. He has a wide smiling mouth, and
very good teeth, and something the same complexion
and nose.

[October 18, 1813.]

No; I have never seen the death of Mrs.
Crabbe.[272] I have only just been making out from
one of his prefaces that he probably was married.
It is almost ridiculous. Poor woman! I will
comfort _him_ as well as I can, but I do not
undertake to be good to her children. She had
better not leave any.

October 26.

Our Canterbury scheme took place as proposed, and
very pleasant it was--Harriot and I and little
George within, my brother on the box with the
master coachman.

* * * * *

Our chief business was to call on Mrs. Milles, and
we had, indeed, so little else to do that we were
obliged to saunter about anywhere and go backwards
and forwards as much as possible to make out the
time and keep ourselves from having two hours to
sit with the good lady--a most extraordinary
circumstance in a Canterbury morning.

Old Toke came in while we were paying our visit. I
thought of Louisa. Miss Milles was queer as usual,
and provided us with plenty to laugh at. She
undertook in _three words_ to give us the history
of Mrs. Scudamore's reconciliation, and then
talked on about it for half an hour, using such
odd expressions, and so foolishly minute, that I
could hardly keep my countenance.

* * * * *

Owing to a difference of clocks the coachman did
not bring the carriage so soon as he ought by half
an hour; anything like a breach of punctuality was
a great offence, and Mr. Moore was very angry,
which I was rather glad of. I wanted to see him
angry; and, though he spoke to his servant in a
very loud voice and with a good deal of heat, I
was happy to perceive that he did not scold
Harriot at all. Indeed, there is nothing to object
to in his manners to her, and I do believe that he
makes her--or she makes herself--very happy. They
do not spoil their boy.

* * * * *

George Hatton[273] called yesterday, and I saw
him, saw him for ten minutes; sat in the same room
with him, heard him talk, saw him bow, and was not
in raptures. I discerned nothing extraordinary. I
should speak of him as a gentlemanlike young
man--_eh bien! tout est dit._ We are expecting the
ladies of the family this morning.

[November 3, 1813.]

I will keep this celebrated birthday by writing to
you, and as my pen seems inclined to write large,
I will put my lines very close together. I had but
just time to enjoy your letter yesterday before
Edward and I set off in the chair for Canty., and
I allowed him to hear the chief of it as we went
along.

* * * * *

But now I cannot be quite easy without staying a
little while with Henry, unless he wishes it
otherwise; his illness and the dull time of year
together make me feel that it would be horrible of
me not to offer to remain with him, and therefore
unless you know of any objection, I wish you would
tell him with my best love that I shall be most
happy to spend ten days or a fortnight in
Henrietta St., if he will accept me. I do not
offer more than a fortnight, because I shall then
have been some time from home; but it will be a
great pleasure to be with him, as it always is.

* * * * *

Edward and I had a delightful morning for our
drive _there_ [to Canterbury], I enjoyed it
thoroughly; but the day turned off before we were
ready, and we came home in some rain and the
apprehension of a great deal. It has not done us
any harm, however. He went to inspect the gaol, as
a visiting magistrate, and took me with him. I was
gratified, and went through all the feelings which
people must go through, I think, in visiting such
a building. We paid no other visits, only walked
about snugly together and shopped. I bought a
concert ticket and a sprig of flowers for my old
age.

* * * * *

What a convenient carriage Henry's is, to his
friends in general! Who has it next? I am glad
William's going is voluntary, and on no worse
grounds. An inclination for the country is a
venial fault. He has more of Cowper than of
Johnson in him--fonder of tame hares and blank
verse than of the full tide of human existence at
Charing Cross.

Oh! I have more of such sweet flattery from Miss
Sharp. She is an excellent kind friend. I am read
and admired in Ireland, too. There is a Mrs.
Fletcher, the wife of a judge, an old lady, and
very good and very clever, who is all curiosity to
know about me--what I am like, and so forth. I am
not known to her by _name_, however. This comes
through Mrs. Carrick, not through Mrs. Gore. You
are quite out there.

I do not despair of having my picture in the
Exhibition at last--all white and red, with my
head on one side; or perhaps I may marry young Mr.
D'Arblay. I suppose in the meantime I shall owe
dear Henry a great deal of money for printing, &c.

I hope Mrs. Fletcher will indulge herself with _S.
and S._

November 6.

Having half an hour before breakfast (very snug in
my own room, lovely morning, excellent fire--fancy
me!) I will give you some account of the last two
days. And yet, what is there to be told? I shall
get foolishly minute unless I cut the matter
short.

We met only the Bretons at Chilham Castle, besides
a Mr. and Mrs. Osborne and a Miss Lee staying in
the house, and were only fourteen altogether. My
brother and Fanny thought it the pleasantest party
they had ever known there, and I was very well
entertained by bits and scraps.

* * * * *

By-the-bye, as I must leave off being young, I
find many _douceurs_ in being a sort of
_chaperon_, for I am put on the sofa near the
fire, and can drink as much wine as I like. We had
music in the evening: Fanny and Miss Wildman
played, and Mr. James Wildman sat close by and
listened, or pretended to listen.

. . . Mrs. Harrison[274] and I found each other out,
and had a very comfortable little complimentary
friendly chat. She is a sweet woman--still quite a
sweet woman in herself, and so like her sister! I
could almost have thought I was speaking to Mrs.
Lefroy. She introduced me to her daughter, whom I
think pretty, but most dutifully inferior to _la
Mere Beaute_.

* * * * *

I was just introduced at last to Mary Plumptre,
but should hardly know her again. She was
delighted with _me_, however, good enthusiastic
soul! And Lady B. found me handsomer than she
expected, so you see I am not so very bad as you
might think for.

Since I wrote last, my 2nd edit.[275] has stared
me in the face. Mary tells me that Eliza means to
buy it. I wish she may. It can hardly depend upon
any more Fyfield Estates. I cannot help hoping
that _many_ will feel themselves obliged to buy
it. I shall not mind imagining it a disagreeable
duty to them, so as they do it. Mary heard before
she left home that it was very much admired at
Cheltenham, and that it was given to Miss
Hamilton.[276] It is pleasant to have such a
respectable writer named. I cannot tire _you_, I
am sure, on this subject, or I would apologise.

What weather, and what news![277] We have enough
to do to admire them both. I hope you derive your
full share of enjoyment from each.

* * * * *

Lady Eliz. Hatton and Annamaria called here this
morning. Yes, they called; but I do not think I
can say anything more about them. They came, and
they sat, and they went.

* * * * *

_Sunday._--Excellent sweetness of you to send me
such a nice long letter; it made its appearance,
with one from my mother, soon after I and my
impatient feelings walked in. How glad I am that I
did what I did! I was only afraid that _you_
might think the offer superfluous, but you have
set my heart at ease. Tell Henry that I _will_
stay with him, let it be ever so disagreeable to
him.

* * * * *

You shall hear from me once more, some day or
other.

Yours very affectionately,
J. A.
Miss Austen, 10 Henrietta Street.

Even in the middle of this large family party, Jane was not likely to forget the literary profession which she had now seriously adopted. Indeed, it was just at this time that the second edition of _Sense and Sensibility_, on which she had ventured under the advice of her publisher Egerton, appeared.[278] According to our dates, she was not now actually engaged in regular composition--for _Mansfield Park_[279] was completed 'soon after June 1813,' and _Emma_ was not begun till January 21, 1814. We may guess, however, that she was either putting a few humorous touches to Mrs. Norris and Lady Bertram, or else giving herself hints in advance for Miss Bates or Mr. Woodhouse; for we learn something of her process from an eyewitness, her niece Marianne Knight, who related her childish remembrances of her aunt not very many years ago. 'Aunt Jane,'[280] she said, 'would sit very quietly at work beside the fire in the Godmersham library, then suddenly burst out laughing, jump up, cross the room to a distant table with papers lying upon it, write something down, returning presently and sitting down quietly to her work again.' She also remembered how her aunt would take the elder girls into an upstairs room and read to them something that produced peals of laughter, to which the little ones on the wrong side of the door listened, thinking it very hard that they should be shut out from hearing what was so delightful! The laughter may have been the result of the second novel then published, for there is an entry in Fanny Knight's diary: 'We finished _Pride and Prejudice_'; or it may have been caused by a first introduction to Aunt Norris and Lady Bertram. Happy indeed were those who could hear their creator make her characters 'speak as they ought.' The dramatic element in her works is so strong that for complete enjoyment on a first acquaintance it is almost indispensable that they should be read aloud by some person capable of doing them justice. She had this power herself, according to the concurrent testimony of those who heard her, and she handed it on to her nephew, the author of the _Memoir_.

On November 13 Jane left Godmersham with Edward, spent two days with some connexions of his at Wrotham, and reached London on the 15th, in time to dine with Henry in Henrietta Street.

After that she had various plans; but we do not know which she adopted; and there is nothing further to tell of her movements until March 1814. We know, however, that _Emma_ was begun in January; and that on March 2, when Henry drove his sister up to London, spending a night at Cobham on the way, he was engaged in reading _Mansfield Park_ for the first time. Jane was of course eager to communicate Henry's impressions to Cassandra.

Henrietta Street: Wednesday [March 2, 1814].

MY DEAR CASSANDRA,--You were wrong in thinking of
us at Guildford last night: we were at Cobham. On
reaching G. we found that John and his horses were
gone on. We therefore did no more there than we
did at Farnham--sit in the carriage while fresh
horses were put in--and proceeded directly to
Cobham, which we reached by seven, and about eight
were sitting down to a very nice roast fowl, &c.
We had altogether a very good journey, and
everything at Cobham was comfortable. I could not
pay Mr. Herington! That was the only alas! of the
business. I shall therefore return his bill, and
my mother's L2, that you may try your luck. We did
not begin reading till Bentley Green. Henry's
approbation is hitherto even equal to my wishes.
He says it is very different from the other two,
but does not appear to think it at all inferior.
He has only married Mrs. R. I am afraid he has
gone through the most entertaining part. He took
to Lady B. and Mrs. N. most kindly, and gives
great praise to the drawing of the characters. He
understands them all, likes Fanny, and, I think,
foresees how it will all be. I finished the
_Heroine_[281] last night, and was very much
amused by it. I wonder James did not like it
better. It diverted me exceedingly. We went to bed
at ten. I was very tired, but slept to a miracle,
and am lovely to-day, and at present Henry seems
to have no complaint. We left Cobham at half-past
eight, stopped to bait and breakfast at Kingston,
and were in this house considerably before two,
quite in the style of Mr. Knight. Nice smiling Mr.
Barlowe met us at the door and, in reply to
enquiries after news, said that peace was
generally expected. I have taken possession of my
bedroom, unpacked my bandbox, sent Miss P.'s two
letters to the twopenny post, been visited by
M^{de} Bigeon and am now writing by myself at the
new table in the front room. It is snowing. We had
some snowstorms[282] yesterday, and a smart frost
at night, which gave us a hard road from Cobham to
Kingston; but as it was then getting dirty and
heavy, Henry had a pair of leaders put on from the
latter place to the bottom of Sloane St. His own
horses, therefore, cannot have had hard work. I
watched for _veils_ as we drove through the
streets, and had the pleasure of seeing several
upon vulgar heads. And now, how do you all
do?--you in particular, after the worry of
yesterday and the day before. I hope Martha had a
pleasant visit again, and that you and my mother
could eat your beef-pudding. Depend upon my
thinking of the chimney-sweeper as soon as I wake
to-morrow. Places are secured at Drury Lane for
Saturday, but so great is the rage for seeing
Kean[283] that only a third and fourth row could
be got; as it is in a front box, however, I hope
we shall do pretty well--_Shylock_, a good play
for Fanny--she cannot be much affected, I think.

Mrs. Perigord has just been here. She tells me
that we owe her master for the silk-dyeing. My
poor old muslin has never been dyed yet. It has
been promised to be done several times. What
wicked people dyers are. They begin with dipping
their own souls in scarlet sin. . . . It is evening.
We have drank tea, and I have torn through the
third vol. of the _Heroine_. I do not think it
falls off. It is a delightful burlesque,
particularly on the Radcliffe style. Henry is
going on with _Mansfield Park_. He admires H.
Crawford: I mean properly, as a clever, pleasant
man. I tell you all the good I can, as I know how
much you will enjoy it. . . . We hear that Mr. Kean
is more admired than ever. . . . There are no good
places to be got in Drury Lane for the next
fortnight, but Henry means to secure some for
Saturday fortnight, when you are reckoned upon.
Give my love to little Cass. I hope she found my
bed comfortable last night. I have seen nobody in
London yet with such a long chin as Dr. Syntax,
nor anybody quite so large as Gogmagoglicus.

Saturday [March 5, 1814].

Do not be angry with me for beginning another
letter to you. I have read the _Corsair_, mended
my petticoat, and have nothing else to do. Getting
out is impossible. It is a nasty day for
everybody. Edward's[284] spirits will be wanting
sunshine, and here is nothing but thickness and
sleet; and though these two rooms are delightfully
warm, I fancy it is very cold abroad.

* * * * *

_Sunday._--We were quite satisfied with Kean. I
cannot imagine better acting, but the part was too
short; and, excepting him and Miss Smith, and
_she_ did not quite answer my expectation, the
parts were ill filled and the play heavy. We were
too much tired to stay for the whole of _Illusion_
('Nour-jahad'), which has three acts; there is a
great deal of finery and dancing in it, but I
think little merit. Elliston was 'Nour-jahad,' but
it is a solemn sort of part, not at all calculated
for his powers. There was nothing of the _best_
Elliston about him. I might not have known him but
for his voice.

* * * * *

Henry has this moment said that he likes my _M.
P._ better and better; he is in the third volume.
I believe _now_ he has changed his mind as to
foreseeing the end; he said yesterday, at least,
that he defied anybody to say whether H. C. would
be reformed, or would forget Fanny in a fortnight.

I shall like to see Kean again excessively, and to
see him with you too. It appeared to me as if
there were no fault in him anywhere; and in his
scene with 'Tubal' there was exquisite acting.

* * * * *

_Monday._--You cannot think how much my ermine
tippet is admired both by father and daughter. It
was a noble gift.

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.

We are to see _The Devil to Pay_ to-night. I
expect to be very much amused. Excepting Miss
Stephens, I daresay _Artaxerxes_ will be very
tiresome.

* * * * *

_Tuesday._--Well, Mr. Hampson dined here, and all
that. I was very tired of _Artaxerxes_, highly
amused with the farce, and, in an inferior way,
with the pantomime that followed. Mr. J. Plumptre
joined in the latter part of the evening, walked
home with us, ate some soup, and is very earnest
for our going to Covent Garden again to-night to
see Miss Stephens in the _Farmer's Wife_. He is to
try for a box. I do not particularly wish him to
succeed. I have had enough for the present. Henry
dines to-day with Mr. Spencer.

Wednesday [March 9, 1814].

Well, we went to the play again last night, and as
we were out a great part of the morning too,
shopping, and seeing the Indian jugglers, I am
very glad to be quiet now till dressing time. We
are to dine at the Tilsons', and to-morrow at Mr.
Spencer's.

We had not done breakfast yesterday when Mr. J.
Plumptre appeared to say that he had secured a
box. Henry asked him to dine here, which I fancy
he was very happy to do, and so at five o'clock we
four sat down to table together while the master
of the house was preparing for going out himself.
The _Farmer's Wife_ is a musical thing in three
acts, and, as Edward was steady in not staying for
anything more, we were at home before ten.

Fanny and Mr. J. P. are delighted with Miss
S[tephens], and her merit in singing is, I dare
say, very great; that she gave _me_ no pleasure
is no reflection upon her, nor, I hope, upon
myself, being what Nature made me on that article.
All that I am sensible of in Miss S. is a pleasing
person and no skill in acting. We had Mathews,
Liston, and Emery; of course, some amusement.

Our friends were off before half-past eight this
morning, and had the prospect of a heavy cold
journey before them. I think they both liked their
visit very much. I am sure Fanny did. Henry sees
decided attachment between her and his new
acquaintance.

* * * * *

Henry has finished _Mansfield Park_, and his
approbation has not lessened. He found the last
half of the last volume _extremely interesting_.

On Friday we are to be snug with only Mr. Barlowe
and an evening of business. I am so pleased that
the mead is brewed. Love to all. I have written to
Mrs. Hill, and care for nobody.

Yours affectionately,
J. AUSTEN.

Henry must have read from a proof copy; for _Mansfield Park_ was not yet published, though on the eve of being so. It was announced in the _Morning Chronicle_ on May 23, and we shall see from the first letter in the next chapter that the Cookes had already been reading it before June 13. It was probably a small issue;[285] but whatever the size may have been, it was entirely sold out in the autumn.

The author broke new ground in this work, which (it should be remembered) was the first dating wholly from her more mature Chawton period. Though her novels were all of one type she had a remarkable faculty for creating an atmosphere--differing more or less in each book; and an excellent instance of this faculty is afforded by the decorous, though somewhat cold, dignity of Sir Thomas Bertram's household. In this household Fanny Price grows up, thoroughly appreciating its orderliness, but saved by Edmund's affection and her own warmhearted simplicity from catching the infection of its coldness. She required, however, an experience of the discomforts and vulgarity of Portsmouth to enable her to value to the full the home which she had left. In the first volume she had been too much of a Cinderella to take her proper position in the family party, and it was a real stroke of art to enhance the dignity of the heroine through the courtship of a rich and clever man of the world. A small point worth noticing in the third volume is the manner in which, when the horrible truth breaks in upon Fanny--and upon the reader--the tension is relaxed by Mrs. Price's commonplace remarks about the carpet.

Probably, most readers will look upon the theatricals and the Portsmouth episode as the most brilliant parts of the book; but the writing throughout is full of point, and the three sisters--Lady Bertram, Mrs. Norris, and Mrs. Price--are all productions of the author's most delicately barbed satire. Mrs. Norris, indeed, is an instance of her complex characters so justly praised by Macaulay. One thinks of her mainly as parsimonious; but her parsimony would be worth much less than it is, if it were not set off by her servility to Sir Thomas, her brutality to Fanny, and her undisciplined fondness for her other nieces. Lady Bertram is formed for the enjoyment of all her readers; and a pale example of what she might have become under less propitious circumstances is given by Mrs. Price. Mrs. Norris, we are told, would have done much better than Mrs. Price in her position. It must have given Jane Austen great pleasure to make this remark. None of her bad characters (except possibly Elizabeth Elliot) were quite inhuman to her, and to have found a situation in which Mrs. Norris might have shone would be a real satisfaction.

One more remark may be made on _Mansfield Park_. It affords what perhaps is the only[286] probable instance in these books of a portrait drawn from life. She must, one would think, have had in her mind her brother Charles--as he had been twelve or fourteen years earlier--when she drew so charming a sketch of a young sailor in William Price.

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.[287]

FOOTNOTES:

[257] 'Pengird' in _Brabourne_, but surely a misprint. Cf. _Brabourne_, ii. pp. 199, 266. Mme. Perigord and Mme. Bigeon were two of Eliza's French servants who stayed on with Henry until he moved to Hans Place.

[258] Lady Robert Kerr, whom Henry met in Scotland, and to whom he divulged the secret of his sister's authorship.

[259] Lizzie and Marianne Knight.

[260] Part of his duties as Receiver of Oxfordshire.

[261] These sisters were daughters of the Master of Balliol; and Mrs. Leigh was married to her first cousin, the Rev. Thomas Leigh, who succeeded to Stoneleigh. (See Leigh pedigree.)

[262] Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney, June 18, 1795.

[263] The keeper at Chawton.

[264] The Rector of Godmersham.

[265] _The Wanderer._

[266] _Sailor Brothers_, p. 243.

[267] To be allowed to use the names of some of his ships in _Mansfield Park_.

[268] The old nurse at Godmersham.

[269] Stephen Rumbold Lushington, M.P. for Rye, 1807-12, and for Canterbury, 1812-30, and 1835-37; Privy Councillor; Governor of Madras.

[270] At Ashford; 'she' is Fanny.

[271] Charles and his party. He was now on the _Namur_ as flag-captain to Sir Thomas Williams, and his wife and two small children were living with him on board.

[272] See p. 238. Mrs. Crabbe did not die until October 31, 1813 according to the _Dictionary of National Biography_.

[273] Afterwards Earl of Winchilsea.

[274] Sister to Mrs. Lefroy.

[275] Probably, of _Pride and Prejudice_.

[276] Probably Miss Elizabeth Hamilton (1758-1816), author of _The Cottagers of Glenburnie_, &c.

[277] (?) Battle of Leipzig, October 16-19, 1813.

[278] Also, one of _Pride and Prejudice_.

[279] Begun about Feb. 1811.

[280] Quoted by Miss Hill, p. 202.

[281] _The Heroine, or the Adventures of Cherubina_, by E. S. Barrett (2nd ed. 1814): a satire on Mrs. Radcliffe, in which a conspicuous part is played by an impostor called 'Whylome Eftsoons.'

[282] It is said to have been the hardest winter known for twenty years (_Brabourne_, vol. ii. p. 218).

[283] Kean had made his first appearance at Drury Lane on January 26, 1814, and had immediately taken the town by storm.

[284] Edward Knight and his daughter Fanny were to arrive that day.

[285] See p. 311.

[286] No doubt there were other cases in which particular traits of character were taken from those around her. Her brother Francis certainly thought that the domestic industry of Captain Harville (in _Persuasion_) was copied from himself. (Addenda to _Sailor Brothers_.)

[287] The _Memoir_ calls it 'one pound.' The difference is not material, but Mrs. Norris would probably not be above giving herself the benefit of the doubt.