by Jane Austen
Thursday was not so dreadful a day to me as you imagined. There was so much necessary to be done that there was no time for additional misery. Everything was conducted with the greatest tranquillity, and but that I was determined I would see the last, and therefore was upon the listen, I should not have known when they left the house. I watched the little mournful procession the length of the street; and when it turned from my sight, and I had lost her for ever, even then I was not overpowered, nor so much agitated as I am now in writing of it. Never was human being more sincerely mourned by those who attended her remains than was this dear creature. May the sorrow with which she is parted with on earth be a prognostic of the joy with which she is hailed in heaven!
I continue very tolerably well — much better than any one could have supposed possible, because I certainly have had considerable fatigue of body as well as anguish of mind for months back; but I really am well, and I hope I am properly grateful to the Almighty for having been so supported. Your grandmamma, too, is much better than when I came home.
I did not think your dear papa appeared unwell, and I understand that he seemed much more comfortable after his return from Winchester than he had done before. I need not tell you that he was a great comfort to me; indeed, I can never say enough of the kindness I have received from him and from every other friend.
I get out of doors a good deal and am able to employ myself. Of course those employments suit me best which leave me most at leisure to think of her I have lost, and I do think of her in every variety of circumstance. In our happy hours of confidential intercourse, in the cheerful family party which she so ornamented, in her sick room, on her death-bed, and as (I hope) an inhabitant of heaven. Oh, if I may one day be re-united to her there! I know the time must come when my mind will be less engrossed by her idea, but I do not like to think of it. If I think of her less as on earth, God grant that I may never cease to reflect on her as inhabiting heaven, and never cease my humble endeavours (when it shall please God) to join her there.
In looking at a few of the precious papers which are now my property I have found some memorandums, amongst which she desires that one of her gold chains may be given to her god-daughter Louisa, and a lock of her hair be set for you. You can need no assurance, my dearest Fanny, that every request of your beloved aunt will be sacred with me. Be so good as to say whether you prefer a brooch or ring. God bless you, my dearest Fanny.
Believe me, most affectionately yours,
Cass. Elizth. Austen.
So ends the story of Jane Austen’s life. We can only hope that we have succeeded in conveying to the reader even a small part of the feeling which we ourselves entertain of the charm of her personality — a charm almost as remarkable in its way as the brightness of her genius. In one respect it is easy to write about her — there is nothing to conceal. Some readers may perhaps add ‘There is little to tell’; and it is true that, though the want of incident in her life has often been exaggerated, her occupations were largely those of helpfulness and sympathy towards others whose lot was more variable than hers, and the development of her own powers to be the delight of generations of readers.
But this position gave her quite sufficient opportunity of showing her character — and it is a character which it is a continual pleasure to contemplate. Her perfect balance and good sense did not diminish her liveliness. Her intellectual qualities did not prevent the enjoyment of a dance, or attention to the most domestic duties. Her consciousness of genius left room for a belief that Cassandra was wiser and better than herself. Her keen and humorous observation of the frailties of mankind was compatible with indulgence towards the faults of her neighbours. Her growing fame did not make her the less accessible and delightful to her nieces, who could consult their aunt and obtain a willing listener in any difficulty whatever, from a doubtful love affair to the working of a sampler. Indeed, she is a standing witness to the truth that eccentricity and self-consciousness are not essential parts of genius.
When her body had been laid in Winchester Cathedral, the small band of mourners went back in sadness to their different homes. They were very fond and very proud of her; and each, we are told, loved afterwards to fancy a resemblance in some niece or daughter of their own to the dear sister Jane, whose perfect equal they yet never expected to see.
Cassandra returned to Chawton and devoted a further ten years to the care of her aged mother. Till old Mrs. Austen’s death in 1827, Martha Lloyd remained an inmate, and everything went on, nominally, as before; but the ‘chief light was quenched and the loss of it had cast a shade over the spirits of the survivors.’ So, when the young Austens went to stay there, expecting to be particularly happy, they could not help feeling something of the chill of disappointment. Later, Martha became the second wife of Francis Austen, while Cassandra lived on at Chawton. One of her great-nieces remembers seeing her towards the end of her life at a christening, ‘a pale, dark-eyed old lady, with a high arched nose and a kind smile, dressed in a long cloak and a large drawn bonnet, both made of black satin.’ She died of a sudden illness in 1845, at the house of her brother Francis, near Portsmouth — at his house, but in his absence; for he and his family had to leave for the West Indies (where he was to take up a command) while she lay dying. She was tended by her brothers Henry and Charles and her niece Caroline. She was buried beside her mother at Chawton.
All her brothers survived her, except James, who was in bad health when his sister Jane died, and followed her in 1819.
Edward (Knight) saw his children and his children’s children grow up around him, and died at Godmersham as peacefully as he had lived, in 1852.
Henry held the living of Steventon for three years after the death of his brother James, till his nephew, William Knight, was ready to take it. He was afterwards Perpetual Curate of Bentley, near Farnham. Later on, he lived for some time in France, and he died at Tunbridge Wells in 1850.
Both the sailor brothers rose to be Admirals. Charles was employed in the suppression of the Slave Trade and against Mehemet Ali, and became Rear-Admiral in 1846. In 1850 he commanded in the East Indian and Chinese waters, and died of cholera on the Irawaddy River in 1852, having ‘won the hearts of all by his gentleness and kindness whilst he was struggling with disease.’
Francis had thirty years on shore after the end of the long war; and his only subsequent foreign service was the command of the West Indian and North American Station, 1845-48. He, however, constantly rose in his profession, and enjoyed the esteem and respect of the Admiralty. He ended by being G.C.B. and Admiral of the Fleet, and did not die until 1865, aged ninety-one.
Shortly before the end of her life, Jane Austen wrote on a slip of paper: —
Profits of my novels, over and above the £600 in the Navy Fives.
£
s.
Residue from the 1st edit. of Mansfield Park remaining in Henrietta St., March 1816
13
7
Received from Egerton, on 2nd edit. of Sense and S., March 1816
12
15
February 21, 1817, First Profits of Emma
38
18
March 7, 1817. From Egerton — 2nd edit. of S. and S.
19
13
Northanger Abbey and Persuasion were published in four volumes by John Murray in 1818, and to the former was prefixed a short biographical notice of the author from the pen of Henry Austen. In 1832 Mr. Bentley bought the copyright of all the novels, except Pride and Prejudice (which Jane Austen had sold outright to Mr. Egerton), from Henry and Cassandra Austen, the joint proprietors, for the sum of two hundred and fifty pounds. Mr. Bentley must also have bought from Mr. Egerton’s executors the copyright of Pride and Prejudice, for he proceeded to issue a complete edition of the novels with a biographical notice (also by Henry) containing a few extra facts not mentioned in the original edition of Northanger Abbey.
(James) Edward Austen, who added ‘Leigh’ to his name on succeeding
to the property of Scarlets in 1836, wrote (in 1869-70) the Memoir of his aunt which has been so often used in these pages, and which, as the work of three eyewitnesses, enjoys an authority greater than that of any other account of her. Its publication coincided with the beginning of a great advance in her fame, and we think it may be claimed that it was an important contributory cause of that advance. Before that date, an appreciation of her genius was rather the special possession of small literary circles and individual families; since that date it has been widely spread both in England and in America. From her death to 1870, there was only one complete edition of her works, and nothing, except a few articles and reviews, was written about her. Since 1870, editions, lives, memoirs, &c., have been almost too numerous to count. We, who are adding to this stream of writings, cannot induce ourselves to believe that the interest of the public is yet exhausted.
APPENDIX
The Text of Jane Austen’s Novels.
In the course of frequent reprinting, various errors have crept into the text of the novels, which seem in danger of becoming perpetuated. We therefore make no apology for pointing these out and for giving our reasons why we prefer any particular reading.
In arriving at the correct text of Jane Austen, common sense will be our best guide. It is of no use to assume, as some editors have done, that the latest edition which appeared in the author’s lifetime, and which might naturally have had the benefit of her corrections, is any more correct than the earliest. Jane Austen was no skilled proofreader, and it is a melancholy fact that the second edition of Mansfield Park, which she returned to Mr. Murray ‘as ready for press’ as she could make it, contains more misprints than any of the other novels, including one or two that do not appear in the first edition. But as the type was evidently re-set, this may have been as much the printer’s fault as the author’s. Again, though in one of her letters she points out a misprint in the first edition of Pride and Prejudice, the passage is not corrected in either the second or third edition, both of which subsequently appeared in her lifetime.
Before noticing the various discrepancies, it is necessary to say a few words about the chief editions of note. During the author’s lifetime three editions appeared of Pride and Prejudice, two of Sense and Sensibility and of Mansfield Park, and one of Emma. Northanger Abbey and Persuasion were published soon after her death. No other edition of the novels seems to have been published until Bentley bought up the copyrights of all the novels in 1832, and included them in his ‘Standard Novels’ series.
In process of time, Bentley’s edition adopted various emendations in the text. It held the field to all intents and purposes for sixty years (apart from cheap reprints in the ‘Parlour Series,’ ‘Railway Library,’ &c.), and its text has largely been followed in later editions, especially by Messrs. Macmillan in their ‘Pocket Classics’ series. Other recent editions, containing a more or less independent text — arrived at by following the earliest editions — are those edited for Messrs. Dent by Mr. Brimley Johnson, the earliest of which appeared in 1892, and the most recent of which has appeared in ‘Everyman’s Library’; the Hampshire Edition (published by Mr. Brimley Johnson, but differing considerably from the editions which he has edited); and the Winchester Edition, published by Mr. Grant Richards.
Finally, with regard to textual criticism, we have an article ‘On the printing of Jane Austen’s novels,’ by the late Dr. Verrall, contributed to the Cambridge Observer, about 1892; and two others, also by Dr. Verrall, ‘On some passages in Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park,’ in the Cambridge Review, for November 30 and December 7, 1893; and certain emendations pointed out in a review of a new edition of Pride and Prejudice in the Saturday Review of November 12, 1910.
‘Sense and Sensibility’
In this novel scarcely anything calls for notice. The main divergencies seem to be that the editions are divided between reading ‘such happiness’ and ‘such an happiness,’ at the end of Chapter iii; between ‘by all who called themselves her friends’ and ‘by all who call themselves her friends,’ in Chapter xxxii; and ‘one of the happiest couples’ or ‘one of the happiest couple,’ in Chapter l.
Johnson’s 1892 edition has an unfortunate blunder at the beginning of Chapter xxxii: reading ‘their effect on her was entirely such as the former had hoped to see,’ instead of ‘their effect on her was not entirely,’ &c.
‘Pride and Prejudice’
1. The first passage that we consider to be frequently misprinted is in Chapter iii, where Mrs. Bennet is giving her husband an account of the Meryton assembly, and of Mr. Bingley’s partners. The first three editions, followed by Mr. Johnson, the Winchester and Hampshire Editions, print thus: —
‘Then the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the two sixth with Lizzie and the Boulanger.’
‘If he had had any compassion for me,’ cried her husband impatiently, ‘he would not have danced half so much! For God’s sake, say no more of his partners. O that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!’
‘Oh! my dear,’ continued Mrs. Bennet, ‘I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! and his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst’s gown — —’
Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any description of finery, &c.
Now, here there can be little doubt that we should read, as in Bentley’s edition, ‘and the two sixth with Lizzie, and the Boulanger — —’ (i.e. Bingley danced the Boulanger with another partner, whose name Mrs. Bennet would have given but for her husband interrupting her). In the first place, there is every reason to suppose that Mr. Bingley danced no more than ‘the two sixth’ (each dance seems to have been divided into two parts, but without any change of partners) with Lizzie, for Mrs. Bennet has already said that Jane ‘was the only creature in the room that he asked a second time.’ Secondly, the reading of the first edition destroys the point of ‘Here she was interrupted again.’
2. The next passage which is frequently misprinted is in Chapter xix, where Mr. Collins in the course of his proposal to Elizabeth quotes the advice of his very noble patroness. Bentley’s edition here reads: —
‘Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry —— Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake, and for your own; let her be an active, useful sort of person not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way.’
By transposing a comma and a semicolon, the printer has here succeeded in perverting a most characteristic bit of advice of Lady Catherine’s. The first three editions, followed by Mr. Johnson; all read ‘Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person,’ &c., and there can hardly be two opinions as to which reading is the right one.
3. In Chapter xxxvi, where Elizabeth is reviewing her conduct towards Darcy, Bentley’s edition, following the first and second editions, makes her exclaim: —
‘How despicably have I acted,’ she cried; ‘I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameless distrust.’
‘Blameless’ makes little or no sense, and we should surely follow the third edition, which gives ‘blameable.’
4. Chapter xxxviii, when Elizabeth Bennet and Maria Lucas are leaving Hunsford Parsonage, Mr. Brimley Johnson in his edition of 1892, following the first and second editions, arranges the sentences as follows: —
‘Good gracious!’ cried Maria, after a few minutes’ silence, ‘it seems but a day or two since we first came! — and yet how many things have happened!’
‘A great many indeed,’ said her companion with a sigh. ‘We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! How much I shall have to tell!’
Elizabeth privately add
ed, ‘And how much I shall have to conceal!’
The effect of this is to give the extremely banal remark about dining and drinking tea at Rosings to Elizabeth instead of to Maria. The third edition, followed by all the others, gives the correct arrangement: —
‘A great many indeed,’ said her companion with a sigh.
‘We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! How much I shall have to tell!’
5. In Chapter l, where Mrs. Bennet is discussing the various houses in the neighbourhood which might suit Wickham and Lydia, Mr. Bennet is made in Bentley’s and all subsequent editions to remark: —
‘Mrs. Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses for your son and daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into one house in this neighbourhood they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the imprudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn.’
Now ‘imprudence’ seems distinctly below Mr. Bennet’s usual form, and we should obviously follow the first and second editions and read ‘impudence.’ Compare the sentence in Chapter lvii, where Mr. Bennet, talking of Mr. Collins’s correspondence, says: —
‘When I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and hypocrisy of my son-in-law.’
It is the third edition that has here gone astray and misled all the others.
6. Chapter liv, when Bingley and Darcy have been dining at Longbourn, we read in Mr. Johnson’s edition, as well as in the Hampshire and Winchester Editions: —
The gentlemen came; and she thought he looked as if he would have answered her hopes; but alas! the ladies had crowded round the table, where Miss Bennet was taking tea, and Elizabeth pouring out the coffee.
This is an ingenious little misprint; for what Miss Bennet, who was one of the hostesses, was doing was not taking tea, of course, but making tea. The early editions and Bentley all read ‘making.’