Memoir of Jane Austen, James Edward Austen-Leigh [e reader comics .TXT] 📗

thm creditt & I expect yt you tht are theyr elder Sister shd rather sett thm examples of ye like nature thn tempt thm from treading in ye steps of their good Grandmothr & poor Mothr.  This is not half what might be saide on this occasion but believing thee to be a very good natured dutyfull child I shd have thought it a great deal too much but yt having in my coming hither past through many most desperate dangers I cannot forbear thinking & preparing myself for all events, & therefore not knowing how it may please God to dispose of us I conclude it my duty to God & thee my dr child to lay this matter as home to thee as I could, assuring you my daily prayers are not nor shall not be wanting that God may give you grace always to remember to make a right use of this truly affectionate counsell of yr poor Mothr.  & though I speak very plaine down-right english to you yett I would not have you doubt but that I love you as hartily as any child I have & if you serve God and take good courses I promise you my kindness to you shall be according to yr own hart’s desire, for you may be certain I can aime at nothing in what I have now writ but yr real good which to promote shall be ye study & care day & night

‘Of my dear Poll
‘thy truly affectionate Mothr.
‘Eliza Chandos.

‘Pera of Galata, May ye 6th 1686.

‘P.S.—Thy ffathr & I send thee our blessing, & all thy brothrs & sistrs theyr service.  Our harty & affectionate service to my brothr & sistr Childe & all my dear cozens.  When you see my Lady Worster & cozen Howlands pray present thm my most humble service.’

This letter shows that the wealth acquired by trade was already manifesting itself in contrast with the straitened circumstances of some of the nobility.  Mary Brydges’s ‘poor ffather,’ in whose household economy was necessary, was the King of England’s ambassador at Constantinople; the grandmother, who lived in ‘great plenty and splendour,’ was the widow of a Turkey merchant.  But then, as now, it would seem, rank had the power of attracting and absorbing wealth.

At Ashe also Jane became acquainted with a member of the Lefroy family, who was still living when I began these memoirs, a few months ago; the Right Hon. Thomas Lefroy, late Chief Justice of Ireland.  One must look back more than seventy years to reach the time when these two bright young persons were, for a short time, intimately acquainted with each other, and then separated on their several courses, never to meet again; both destined to attain some distinction in their different ways, one to survive the other for more than half a century, yet in his extreme old age to remember and speak, as he sometimes did, of his former companion, as one to be much admired, and not easily forgotten by those who had ever known her.

Mrs. Lefroy herself was a remarkable person.  Her rare endowments of goodness, talents, graceful person, and engaging manners, were sufficient to secure her a prominent place in any society into which she was thrown; while her enthusiastic eagerness of disposition rendered her especially attractive to a clever and lively girl.  She was killed by a fall from her horse on Jane’s birthday, Dec.  16, 1804.  The following lines to her memory were written by Jane four years afterwards, when she was thirty-three years old.  They are given, not for their merits as poetry, but to show how deep and lasting was the impression made by the elder friend on the mind of the younger:—

To the Memory of Mrs. Lefroy.

1.

The day returns again, my natal day;
   What mix’d emotions in my mind arise!
Beloved Friend; four years have passed away
   Since thou wert snatched for ever from our eyes.

2.

The day commemorative of my birth,
   Bestowing life, and light, and hope to me,
Brings back the hour which was thy last on earth.
   O! bitter pang of torturing memory!

3.

Angelic woman! past my power to praise
   In language meet thy talents, temper, mind,
Thy solid worth, thy captivating grace,
   Thou friend and ornament of human kind.

4.

But come, fond Fancy, thou indulgent power;
   Hope is desponding, chill, severe, to thee:
Bless thou this little portion of an hour;
   Let me behold her as she used to be.

5.

I see her here with all her smiles benign,
   Her looks of eager love, her accents sweet,
That voice and countenance almost divine,
   Expression, harmony, alike complete.

6.

Listen!  It is not sound alone, ’tis sense,
   ’Tis genius, taste, and tenderness of soul:
’Tis genuine warmth of heart without pretence,
   And purity of mind that crowns the whole.

7.

She speaks!  ’Tis eloquence, that grace of tongue,
   So rare, so lovely, never misapplied
By her, to palliate vice, or deck a wrong:
   She speaks and argues but on virtue’s side.

8.

Hers is the energy of soul sincere;
   Her Christian spirit, ignorant to feign,
Seeks but to comfort, heal, enlighten, cheer,
   Confer a pleasure or prevent a pain.

9.

Can aught enhance such goodness? yes, to me
   Her partial favour from my earliest years
Consummates all: ah! give me but to see
   Her smile of love!  The vision disappears.

10.

’Tis past and gone.  We meet no more below,
   Short is the cheat of Fancy o’er the tomb.
Oh! might I hope to equal bliss to go,
   To meet thee, angel, in thy future home.

11.

Fain would I feel an union with thy fate:
   Fain would I seek to draw an omen fair
From this connection in our earthly date.
   Indulge the harmless weakness.  Reason, spare.

The loss of their first home is generally a great grief to young persons of strong feeling and lively imagination; and Jane was exceedingly unhappy when she was told that her father, now seventy years of age, had determined to resign his duties to his eldest son, who was to be his successor in the Rectory of Steventon, and to remove with his wife and daughters to Bath.  Jane had been absent from home when this resolution was taken; and, as her father was always rapid both in forming his resolutions and in acting on them, she had little time to reconcile herself to the change.

* * * * *

A wish has sometimes been expressed that some of Jane Austen’s letters should be published.  Some entire letters, and many extracts, will be given in this memoir; but the reader must be warned not to expect too much from them.  With regard to accuracy of language indeed every word of them might be printed without correction.  The style is always clear, and generally animated, while a vein of humour continually gleams through the whole; but the materials may be thought inferior to the execution, for they treat only of the details of domestic life.  There is in them no notice of politics or public events; scarcely any discussions on literature, or other subjects of general interest.  They may be said to resemble the nest which some little bird builds of the materials nearest at hand, of the twigs and mosses supplied by the tree in which it is placed; curiously constructed out of the simplest matters.

Her letters have very seldom the date of the year, or the signature of her christian name at full length; but it has been easy to ascertain their dates, either from the post-mark, or from their contents.

* * * * *

The two following letters are the earliest that I have seen.  They were both written in November 1800; before the family removed from Steventon.  Some of the same circumstances are referred to in both.

The first is to her sister Cassandra, who was then staying with their brother Edward at Godmersham Park, Kent:—

‘Steventon, Saturday evening, Nov. 8th.

‘My dear Cassandra,

‘I thank you for so speedy a return to my two last, and particularly thank you for your anecdote of Charlotte Graham and her cousin, Harriet Bailey, which has very much amused both my mother and myself.  If you can learn anything farther of that interesting affair, I hope you will mention it.  I have two messages; let me get rid of them, and then my paper will be my own.  Mary fully intended writing to you by Mr. Chute’s frank, and only happened entirely to forget it, but will write soon; and my father wishes Edward to send him a memorandum of the price of the hops.  The tables are come, and give general contentment.  I had not expected that they would so perfectly suit the fancy of us all three, or that we should so well agree in the disposition of them; but nothing except their own surface can have been smoother.  The two ends put together form one constant table for everything, and the centre piece stands exceedingly well under the glass, and holds a great deal most commodiously, without looking awkwardly.  They are both covered with green baize, and send their best love.  The Pembroke has got its destination by the sideboard, and my mother has great delight in keeping her money and papers locked up.  The little table which used to stand there has most conveniently taken itself off into the best bedroom; and we are now in want only of the chiffonniere, which is neither finished nor come.  So much for that subject; I now come to another, of a very different nature, as other subjects are very apt to be.  Earle Harwood has been again giving uneasiness to his family and talk to the neighbourhood; in the present instance, however, he is only unfortunate, and not in fault.

‘About ten days ago, in cocking a pistol in the guard-room at Marcau, he accidentally shot himself through the thigh.  Two young Scotch surgeons in the island were polite enough to propose taking off the thigh at once, but to that he would not consent; and accordingly in his wounded state was put on board a cutter and conveyed to Haslar Hospital, at Gosport, where the bullet was extracted, and where he now is, I hope, in a fair way of doing well.  The surgeon of the hospital wrote to the family on the occasion, and John Harwood went down to him immediately, attended by James, {62} whose object in going was to be the means of bringing back the earliest intelligence to Mr. and Mrs. Harwood, whose anxious sufferings, particularly those of the latter, have of course been dreadful.  They went down on Tuesday, and James came back the next day, bringing such favourable accounts as greatly to lessen the distress of the family at Deane, though it will probably be a long while before Mrs. Harwood can be quite at ease.  One most material comfort, however, they have; the assurance of its being really an accidental wound, which is not only positively declared by Earle himself, but is likewise testified by the particular direction of the bullet.  Such a wound could not have been received in a duel.  At present he is going on very well, but the surgeon will not declare him to be in no danger. {63}  Mr. Heathcote met with a genteel little accident the other day in hunting.  He got off to lead his horse over a hedge, or a house, or something, and his horse in his haste trod upon his leg, or rather ancle, I believe, and it is not certain whether the small bone is not broke.  Martha has accepted Mary’s invitation for Lord Portsmouth’s ball.  He has not yet sent out his own invitations, but that does