Then winter ended, Aunt Philadelphia and Betsy departed, and Mrs. Austen again took up her duties in the house, the dairy and the poultry yard. On 5 April, after a harsh, dark morning, the sun came out. Little Jane was well wrapped in shawls, her mother put on her pelisse and an extra shawl or two for herself, and the family processed up the lane to the church, with its great yew tree in the graveyard in which the key was kept, its ancient bells, and its two stone heads, one of a man, one of a woman, carved on each side of the pointed arch through which you entered. This was her formal, public christening. Two of her godmothers, or “sponsors,” were Janes, one a Kentish aunt of her father’s, the other an Oxfordshire cousin of her mother’s. It is unlikely they made the difficult journeys needed to be present for the occasion, or that her godfather, another clergyman married to another of Mrs. Austen’s cousins and living in Surrey, was there; it was normal for their promises to be made for them at the ceremony. 5 As it turned out, they none of them did anything for their god-daughter; but as evidence of the great connecting web of cousins, mostly clerical, spread over the southern counties, they are a significant part of Jane Austen’s story.
It is not an easy story to investigate. She herself wrote no autobiographical notes, and if she kept any diaries they did not survive her. Her sister destroyed the bulk of the letters in her possession, a niece did the same for those preserved by one of her brothers, and only a handful more have turned up from other sources. There are 160 in all, and none from her childhood; the earliest known letter was written when she was twenty. The first biographical note, written in the aftermath of her death, consisted of a few pages only, and her brother Henry, who wrote it, explained that hers was “not by any means a life of event.” Nothing more was published for another fifty years, when a memoir by her nephew James-Edward Austen-Leigh appeared. It confirmed Henry’s view of her. “Of events her life was singularly barren: few changes and no great crisis ever broke the smooth current of its course.” The uneventful life of Jane Austen has been the generally accepted view. Compared with writers like Dickens or her contemporary Mary Wollstonecraft, the course of her life does seem to run exceedingly quietly and smoothly. Jane Austen did not see her father beat her mother, and she was not sent to work in a blacking factory at the age of twelve; yet, if you stop to look closely at her childhood, it was not all quiet days at the parsonage. It was, in fact, full of events, of distress and even trauma, which left marks upon her as permanent as those of any blacking factory. That she was marked by them will become clear in the course of her story; and that she also overcame them and made them serve her purposes.
Mr. and Mrs. Austen must have hoped that this would be their last child. Her sister Jane Cooper had only two, and “has not been breeding since, so perhaps she has done,” observed Mrs. Austen with interest in a letter to a sister-in-law;6 to have finished breeding safely was en-viable. And then the Austens’ financial situation was not good. George was heavily in debt, owing money on all sides, to Jane Cooper’s husband among others. He had also borrowed from Mrs. Austen’s brother, James Leigh-Perrot, and from his own sister Philadelphia Hancock, and, separately, from her husband. His annual income was small, around £210 from the combined tithes of Steventon and the neighbouring village of Deane. The sales of his farm produce were an important supplement to this, but not enough to keep him solvent. Three years before Jane’s birth he began to take in pupils; the parsonage, with its seven bedrooms and three attics, was big enough to be turned into a small school. At the same time he sold off the last of his small capital. Just before her christening he had to borrow another £300, through the good offices of Philadelphia, from a London lawyer.7 His accounts show a perpetual juggling of debt repayments and new borrowings which must have made his wife extremely uneasy if she knew their full extent. The plain fact was that children cost money to launch into the world, and the Austens had enough with James, George, Edward, Henry, Cassandra, Francis and Jane. Separate bedrooms was the usual form of birth control; but the Austens did not adopt it, and there was one more Austen baby to come.
Mrs. Austen’s system of child-rearing was an unusual one. She was a well-organized woman, and her practice was to give each baby a few months at the breast as a good start—we know from her own account that it was three months in the case of Cassandra—and then hand the child over to a woman in the village to be looked after for another year or eighteen months, until it was old enough to be easily managed at home.8 For Jane, this handing over is most likely to have followed her christening. A baby of fourteen weeks will be firmly attached to her mother, and to be transferred to a strange person and environment can only be a painful experience. The idea that this was an exile or an abandonment would not have occurred to Mrs. Austen; bonding between mother and child is a largely modern concept, and babies were handed about freely. It does not mean they did not suffer, both in going and in coming back. Cobbett deplored the practice, asking, “Who has not seen these banished children, when brought and put into the arms of their mother, screaming to get from them and stretching out their little hands to get back to the arms of the nurse?”9 Poor village mothers were naturally glad of the extra income brought by nursing children of the gentry; a country wet nurse could earn about two shillings and sixpence a week, and even a dry nurse would be helping her own family by taking on such work. Whether Mrs. Austen found a wet nurse ready for each of her children in the village, or whether she felt they could be spoon-fed after their first few months of breast-feeding, we do not know; but she did use the word “weaning” in the case of three-month-old Cassandra, which suggests the latter. Whatever the system, there was something impersonal about it; the name of the nurse is never mentioned.10
So the Austen babies were cared for in the village, fed, washed, encouraged to crawl in a cottage, taking their first steps there and learning their first words from their foster family. When they approached the age of reason and became socially acceptable, they were moved again, back to their original home. From the physical point of view the system worked very well. In an age when few families were spared the deaths of several children, the Austens did not lose a single one; in London at this time over half the children born died before they could reach the age of five, and although things were better in the country, the mortality rate was still alarmingly high.11 The Austen children grew up, and grew up healthy.
All the same, you have to wonder what effect Mrs. Austen’s treatment had on them. In Jane’s case, the emotional distance between child and mother is obvious throughout her life; and not only between child and mother. The most striking aspect of Jane’s adult letters is their defensiveness. They lack tenderness towards herself as much as towards others. You are aware of the inner creature, deeply responsive and alive, but mostly you are faced with the hard shell; and sometimes a claw is put out, and a sharp nip is given to whatever offends. They are the letters of someone who does not open her heart; and in the adult who avoids intimacy you sense the child who was uncertain where to expect love or to look for security, and armoured herself against rejection.
Mrs. Austen’s system made for a tidier and more easily run parsonage, and she did not see herself as doing anything cruel or unusual. She believed, along with most other people, that infants required no more than to be kept reasonably clean, reasonably warm and well fed, until their intelligence showed itself in obvious form. One of her contemporaries, also mother of a large family, wrote that she would just as soon be a stepmother as a mother: “think of being quit of their plague while they are mere vegetables, and then become mere animals.”12 The Austen parents are said—by a grandson—to have visited the absent babies daily, at least whenever possible, and had them brought to the parsonage regularly, which may have encouraged their children to feel that they had two families and homes where they were loved. The system was certainly a good deal better than that of parents who placed their children too far away to visit, and became total strangers to them. “She sent him forth to be nursed by the rob
ust wife of a neighbouring farmer, where, for the space of upwards of four years, he was honoured with no token from father or mother, save some casual messages, to know from time to time if the child was in health,” was Henry Brooke’s summary of his hero’s infancy in The Fool of Quality , published in the late 1760s and recognized as a perfectly credible account.13
One Austen child did not come home from his village nurse. This was the second, George, nearly ten years older than Jane; he suffered from fits and failed to develop normally. For Mrs. Austen, this was a sad repetition of her early experience with her brother Thomas. He was born when she was eight, just of an age to enjoy a baby brother; but when his backwardness was obvious, he was sent away to be cared for. George was destined for the same fate, although he was occasionally at the parsonage as a small boy. 14 Since he was probably still in Steventon village in 1776, he may have been the first of Jane’s siblings of whom she became aware. He could walk, and he was not a Down’s Syndrome child, or he would not have lived so long, lacking modern medication. Because Jane knew deaf and dumb sign language as an adult—she mentioned talking “with my fingers” in a letter of 1808—it is thought he may have lacked language; it would not have stopped him joining in the village children’s games.
“We have this comfort, he cannot be a bad or a wicked child,” wrote his father of George, with touching Christian resignation.15 The Austens cared about goodness, but they also cared deeply about success; and their child-rearing system worked remarkably well, for all, with the partial exception of George, grew up tough, not given to self-pity and notable for their mutual affection and support. And even George lived to a ripe old age, cared for alongside his Uncle Thomas in another Hampshire village, Monk Sherborne; he is rarely mentioned, but survived his elder brother and his sister Jane, and was not forgotten by the others, who contributed to his upkeep. On his death certificate in 1838 he is described as a “Gentleman.” 16
In June 1776, before Jane was six months old, her parents did absent themselves from Steventon in order to make a visit to London. Neither two-year-old Frank nor three-year-old Cass had long been promoted from the village themselves, so they may have been sent to keep their baby sister company, happy enough to return to what had been their home, and the games of the long summer days with the small Bets, Bobs and Nans from the cottages. And if Cass now saw herself as a little mother to the baby, and the baby held out her arms to Cass, it was the first stage of a deep and lifelong bond between the sisters.
Mr. and Mrs. Austen were in London partly at least to visit his sister Philadelphia and niece Betsy. While they were with them word came from India of the death of Phila’s husband, Tysoe Saul Hancock. He had in fact died months earlier, in November 1775, even before the birth of Jane, but news travelled slowly, letters from India taking six months or more. Mrs. Hancock was naturally afflicted to hear of her husband’s end. Worse, it appeared that he died penniless: “all his effects will not more than clear his debts here,” wrote Mr. Woodman, the lawyer who advised her, and the same man who had lent George Austen money.17 Sadly, Hancock was little George’s godfather, and now there was no hope that he would be able to contribute to the cost of his care; he had worried about the growing number of Austen children, and how the family would manage. The situation of his own wife and daughter was not, however, as bad as it appeared at first.
Three years earlier, Mr. Hancock’s patron in India, the great Warren Hastings of the East India Company, on becoming Governor of Bengal, had made a gift to his god-daughter, Betsy Hancock, of £5,000; and in 1775 he doubled the sum, making Betsy an heiress— not a great one, but with enough to ensure she would find a husband. The Hancocks were sworn to secrecy about the whole matter, but the two trustees for Betsy’s fortune were the lawyer, Mr. Woodman— Warren Hastings’s brother-in-law—and Mrs. Hancock’s brother, George Austen, who was doubtless in London partly to carry out whatever duties his trusteeship demanded.
It turned out there was not much cause for concern about Philadelphia. Quite apart from her daughter’s wealth, we can see from the bank account she opened a few months later that she received £3,500 paid in by Woodman, and another sum of nearly £5,000 in the form of a “bill on Ind. Co.”18 The opening of the account is a sign of her independence as a well-to-do widow. Her late husband had advised her to do as much earlier, but she had not complied; now she chose a different bank from the one he recommended, and deposited her money with Messrs. Hoare & Co., her brother’s bankers.
The Hancocks, mother and daughter, closely bonded as single parent and single child, were free to embark on living as they pleased; and although Philadelphia was fond of her brother, and Betsy of her uncle, they had no thought of burying themselves in the English countryside. Betsy, having lost a father she hardly remembered and come into a considerable fortune, announced she was no longer to be known as Betsy. From now on she would be called Eliza. No one thought of contradicting her wishes.
Eliza Hancock is a central figure in Jane Austen’s life for many reasons. She was her first cousin, and they became warmly attached to one another. Although Eliza was the senior by fourteen years, both died relatively young, and Jane outlived her by only four years, bringing the span of their lives close together. The difference was that Eliza was always an exotic, a bird of bright plumage with a story that might have come from one of the romances Jane liked to mock. Eliza was a true Austen in her fluent pen and her enjoyment of acting, music and dancing, and she had a quick ear; in other ways she was markedly different from her Austen cousins. She was incautious in marrying, and could write frivolously of her feelings or lack of them; and yet she was always a most loving daughter, and became a tenderly attentive mother.
There are some unsolved questions in the lives of both Philadelphia Hancock and her daughter, the central one being Eliza’s parentage, which will be considered later. For now, in the summer of 1776, George Austen was reassured about the situation in which they found themselves, and continued to repay the money he had borrowed from his sister at the same rate. He and his wife returned to Hampshire and life went on in its usual way. For him this meant supervising the work of the farm and sales of wheat, barley and hops; teaching his older boys; performing his pastoral duties of baptism, burial, Sunday services, and keeping a kindly eye on any parishioners in need or trouble. The one exceptional event of the winter happened three days before his little daughter’s first birthday, on Friday, 13 December, when, in common with every clergyman in the land, he held an extra service in Steventon church, reading out prayers against the American rebels. 19 After which he walked down the hill to his cheerful home, whose atmosphere reminded one observer of “the liberal society, the simplicity, hospitality, & taste, which commonly prevail in different families among the delightful valleys of Switzerland.”20
2
Meritocrats
Jane Austen’s novels do not ramble. They are tightly constructed stories that cover a short span of time. In the novels, only Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Sir Walter Elliot take much notice of ancestry and pride themselves on it, and neither is an advertisement for the preoccupation. Jane Austen also chose to write about small families; the Bennets with their five daughters was the largest to be put under close scrutiny. Her experience in life was different. Not only was she one of eight, she lived with a perpetual awareness of a cousinage extending over many counties and even beyond England. Family history and connections on both sides were seen as important. The large numbers of brothers, cousins, uncles and aunts, the repeated names, the convolutions of the family trees, are dismaying to outsiders; but they have to be sorted out, summarily at least, by anyone who aims to inhabit the world in which she was at home.
To begin with her mother: Mrs. Austen was a Leigh and, down-to-earth and practical as she was, she was proud of her family history and links with the aristocracy. The Leighs knew themselves to be descended from the Lord Mayor of London who proclaimed Elizabeth Queen. Since then, some had been ennobled and become owners of
Stoneleigh Abbey in Warwickshire; others had married aristocrats. Her curious name of Cassandra, shared with several cousins, owed itself to the fact that a Cassandra Willoughby had been the wife of a great-uncle who became the first Duke of Chandos; and a ducal connection was something to be proudly remembered and signaled.1 There were brains in the family too: her uncle Theophilus Leigh was Master of Balliol for fifty years. Her father, Thomas Leigh, was a more modest parish priest at Harpsden, near Henley-on-Thames, where she was reared. She was a clever child who wrote poetry and impressed her Uncle Theophilus; but it was her brother James who came into a fortune through another great-uncle, adding a Perrot to his Leigh in the process. There was no fortune for her, only a small inheritance worth less than £2,000.
When her father retired from his parish, she and her sister Jane, by then in their mid-twenties, were taken to Bath, considered the most agreeable of places for elderly couples and husbandless young women, combining as it did urban pleasures and health care. Unfortunately the delights of the place finished off the Revd Leigh smartly. Shortly after his death, Cassandra chose to marry George Austen. She took to the tough life of the country parson’s wife brisk and confident powers of organization, intellectual vitality, and pride in her family history.
The Austens had no aristocratic connections. They were however a family for whom putting things down on paper was important. In 1708 George’s grandmother had written out a long document headed “Memorandums for mine and my Children’s reading, being my own tho’ts on our affairs 1706, 1707.” She explained that she was making this “rough draft in a retired hour” as a help to her memory and “for my own satisfaction.” It was also for her children, to encourage them in the belief that intelligence and articulateness could count for more than an inherited fortune.2
Jane Austen Page 2