Jane Austen (Sarah Fanny Malden 1889)/Chapter 3
The years from 1787 to 1795 which passed over Steventon Parsonage, brought few changes to the quiet life of its inmates, except such as occur in every family of young people growing-up. From boys and girls the Austens became young men and young women: James, Edward, and Henry all made their start in life, and the two elder ones married; Francis and Charles went into the navy and rose rapidly, for those were golden days for steady, ambitious young naval officers; Cassandra duly took her place as the "Miss Austen" of the family, and finally came Jane's turn to be, as she says of a friend in one of her letters, "grown up and have a fine complexion, and wear great square muslin shawls."
In other words, Jane Austen, in 1795, was "tall and twenty," and if she had not, to continue the quotation, "beaux and balls in plenty," it can only have been because the neighbourhood was not rich in these advantages; she had, however, quite as much as she wanted of both.
Those who knew her at this time speak highly of her beauty, and two portraits which still exist of her quite bear out their praise. "Fair and handsome, slight and elegant," Sir Egerton Brydges calls her at this time, and the first portrait, which shows her in early youth, depicts a tall, slight girl, whose graceful élancé figure is not wholly disfigured, even by the ugly, unbecoming dress of the day. She stands with a fan in her hand, in the attitude of one just about to speak; the head, well set and poised, is thrown slightly back, the brilliant beautiful eyes look laughingly out as if enjoying some gay speech, and the full lips are slightly parted, as if ready with a playful rejoinder. The hair is cut short, but waves in thick curls all over her head, and figure and expression alike give the idea of her being, like her own Emma Woodhouse, "the picture of health." The brilliant expression would be attractive in a plainer face, and, looking at the radiant girl, one is tempted to wonder how Jane Austen could have remained Jane Austen all her life, but in truth no one would have found it easy to persuade her into matrimony. Her taste was fastidious, her home a very happy one, and her heart and mind abundantly occupied, so that the admiration she received amused more than it touched her, and she took good care that it should not usually go beyond very reasonable limits.
One admirer, who figures rather conspicuously in some of her earlier letters, subsequently achieved considerable eminence in life; this was Mr. Thomas Lefroy, afterwards Chief Justice of Ireland. He came into Hampshire one Christmas (when Jane was just twenty) on a visit to his aunt, Mrs. Lefroy, whose husband was the Rector of Asbe, the parish adjoining Steventon. This Mrs. Lefroy was a brilliant woman, with much charm of manner; she was greatly attached to Jane, who looked up to her with all a girl's admiration for an older woman of superior attainments. Jane was constantly at Ashe, and when she met Thomas Lefroy there the two clever young people were mutually attracted. Very possibly Mrs. Lefroy hoped that the attraction might ripen into something warmer, but Jane's own tone on the matter is invariably playful.
"You scold me so much in the nice long letter which I have this moment received from you," she writes to Cassandra in January, 1796, "that I am almost afraid to tell you how my Irish friend and I behaved. Imagine to yourself everything most proffigate and shocking in the way of dancing and sitting down together. I can expose myself, however, only once more, because he leaves the country soon after next Friday, on which day we are to have a dance at Ashe after all. He is a very gentleman-like, good-looking, pleasant young man, I assure you. But as to our having ever met, except at the last three balls, I cannot say much; for he is so excessively laughed at about me at Ashe that he is ashamed of coming to Steventon, and ran away when we called on Mrs. Lefroy a few days ago."
Cassandra's sisterly feelings had taken alarm at this "gentleman-like, good-looking, pleasant young" Irishman, and Jane was bent on teasing her, for in the same letter she mischievously tells her sister that she had received a visit from Mr. Lefroy, who "has but one fault, which time will, I trust, entirely remove;—it is that his morning coat is a great deal too light." Next she declares that she is looking forward with great impatience to the Ashe ball, "as I rather expect to receive an offer from my friend in the course of the evening. I shall refuse him, however, unless he promises to give away his white coat," and then announces with mock solemnity that she intends to give up all her other admirers, and "confine myself in future to Mr. Tom Lefroy, for whom I don't care sixpence." Finally, on January 16th, she tells her sister that "at length the day is come on which I am to flirt my last with Tom Lefroy, and when you receive this it will be over. My tears flow as I write at the melancholy idea." And thus ended this little episode "comme à vingt ans." It is impossible to imagine that Jane had any serious feeling for "Tom Lefroy," and, as he was three times married in the course of his life, and lived to be about ninety, his heart cannot have been irretrievably wounded either. Throughout his long and brilliant career, however, he never forgot his fair partner of the Ashe and Basingstoke balls, and to the last would refer to her as a girl much to be admired, and not easily to be forgotten by anyone who had once known her, an opinion which most others who knew her endorse warmly.
Two years later we hear of another "passage" in Jane's life, which seems more serious on the gentleman's side, though it is difficult to say whether she was touched by it or not. Writing in November 1798 (to her sister, as usual) she says that she has had a visit from Mrs. Lefroy, "with whom, in spite of interruptions both from my father and James, I was enough alone to hear all that was interesting, which you will easily credit when I tell you that of her nephew she said nothing at all, and of her friend very little. She showed me a letter which she had received from her friend a few weeks ago (in answer to one written by her to recommend a nephew of Mrs. Russell to his notice at Cambridge), towards the end of which was a sentence to this effect: 'I am very sorry to hear of Mrs. Austen's illness. It would give me particular pleasure to have an opportunity of improving my acquaintance with that family—with a hope of creating, to myself a nearer interest. But at present I cannot indulge any expectation of it.'" After giving this quotation, Jane herself goes on: "This is rational enough; there is less love and more sense in it than sometimes appeared before, and I am very well satisfied. It will all go on exceedingly well, and decline away in a very reasonable manner. There seems no likelihood of his coming into Hampshire this Christmas, and it is therefore most probable that our indifference will soon be mutual, unless his regard, which appeared to spring from knowing nothing of me at first, is best supported by never seeing me. Mrs. Lefroy made no remarks in the letter, nor did she, indeed, say anything about him as relative to me. Perhaps she thinks she has said too much already."
Evidently the unnamed "friend" of Mrs. Lefroy had fallen in love at first sight, the sort of attachment which Jane would least understand, and which she would be most inclined to ridicule. Nevertheless, as to her indifference, "the lady doth protest too much, methinks"; yet it is impossible not to suspect some consciousness in her careful avoidance of his name; it is clear that there were serious obstacles—probably of money—on his side, and that Jane, even if attracted by him, had determined to nip the whole affair in the bud.
From other sources we hear of repeated unsuccessful attempts to win her, especially of one suitor whose addresses she declined, although "he had the recommendations of good character and a good position in life, of everything, in fact, except the subtle power of touching her heart." It seems wonderful that a woman who could describe love as she could, who could draw Fanny Price and Emma Woodhouse and Anne Elliot all under the spell of that influence, should never have felt its effects herself; yet her nephew declares that he knows "of no definite tale of love to relate" of her, and Lord Brabourne, while confirming the fact that she might more than once have been married had she wished it, confirms also Mr. Austen Leigh's conviction that her heart was never won. There was, however, a sad little romance in her life, which for many years seems to have been known only to her sister. In 1801 Cassandra and Jane, while staying at the seaside in Devonshire, became acquainted with a clergyman who was in all respects so attractive that even Cassandra thought him worthy of her cherished sister, and his admiration for Jane was soon so marked that there was no doubt of his wishes, and, in the elder sister's opinion, not much doubt of his ultimate success. When the seaside visit ended, he impressed strongly on the sisters his intention of soon meeting them again, and Cassandra was preparing to see her constant companion removed to a new home, when tidings came of his sudden death before another interview could take place. What Jane felt at this time was told only to her sister, who so respected her reticence that she never mentioned the story until years after Jane's death, when she spoke of it to some of the family, and gave them to understand that she considered this the one real romance of her sister's life. Nevertheless, considering how short the time was during which the acquaintanceship had existed, even she could scarcely say how far her sister's happiness had been really affected by it.
Through some curious misunderstanding of this little episode has arisen another far more romantic story about Jane Austen, which has only lately been given to the world. Sir Francis Doyle, in his brilliant and amusing Reminiscences, says that a friend of his once made acquaintance with a niece of Jane Austen, who gave her many particulars of her aunt's life. According to her, Jane Austen was once actually engaged to a young naval officer, and after the peace of 1802 she went abroad with her father, sister, and fiancé to visit Switzerland. They travelled in company for some time till at length the Austens settled to go on to their next stage by diligence, while the young man started to walk over the mountains, intending to join them at Chamouni. They arrived there in due time, but waited for him in vain, at first unsuspicious of misfortune, then surprised and uneasy, finally in terrible alarm, until the news of his death came to confirm their worst fears. The story adds that the young officer had overwalked himself, and became so alarmingly ill on his way that he had been carried to a cottage, where he lay for many days between life and death, incapable of communicating with the outer world until just before his death, when he rallied sufficiently to give the Austens' address to those who were nursing him, and thus they heard the news. Sir Francis builds upon this story (which, of course, only came to him third hand) a graceful little theory about Persuasion, which was not published until after Jane's death, and which has often been remarked upon as softer and tenderer in tone than her earlier novels. He thinks that this is explained by the tragic romance through which she had passed before writing Persuasion; but this theory will hardly hold good in face of facts, and, indeed, the story practically crumbles to pieces when investigated. First, the whole episode must have been before 1805, for Mr. Austen died in that year, but neither then nor at any other time is there any probability that Jane Austen was ever abroad; her own family believe that she never crossed the sea in her life. A second objection, which Sir Francis himself remarks upon, is that none of Jane's own generation of relatives knew anything of the story, nor any of her nephews or nieces except the unnamed one who told it to Sir Francis's friend. Mr. Austen Leigh and his sisters, Mrs. Lefroy and Miss Austen, all remembered their aunt Jane well; so did Lady Knatchbull, who had been a special companion and chosen confidante of hers; yet none of these had ever heard of Jane Austen being definitely engaged to anyone, and it is certain that the niece who related the story was not one of those who remembered her aunt, so that she can only have had it at second hand herself. Indeed, the Austens were on such intimate terms with each other that it is inconceivable they should not all have known of any declared engagement among themselves; but what above all is utterly and entirely inconceivable is that Cassandra Austen, who must have known all about it, should not only have never mentioned it to anyone, but should have told a different story to account for her sister's never having married. Another explanation of Sir Francis's story is also possible. Though Jane Austen never was engaged to be married, Cassandra Austen was; her fiancé died while out of England, after a short and sudden illness. With a resemblance like this between the sisters' stories it is not difficult to see how, years later, when Cassandra and Jane were both gone, the more tragic romance would be given to the best-known sister with those embellishments and alterations that are sure to occur as a story filters from one generation to another.
Cassandra had been engaged to a young clergyman who could not marry till he obtained preferment, but who had good prospects from a wealthy relative, who was kind to him and had several livings in his gift. While waiting for one of these to fall vacant, the patron, who knew nothing of the engagement, urged the young man to go out with him on a visit to the West Indies; he went there, and died of yellow fever. Cassandra's grief, which was deep and lasting, was, of course, shared by Jane, who, though quite young at the time, already felt every sorrow of her sister's as her own. That these two stories have been confused together, I feel sure; and those readers who regret losing an additional touch of romance for the charming story of Persuasion must remember that both Emma and Mansfield Park were written, and Northanger Abbey completely revised for the press, after 1805, so that there is really no reason why one of these should not show traces of Jane's sorrow as well as another.
With the authority of the family for pronouncing the story told by Sir Francis a mistake, we may dismiss it, together with the wild statement once made by Mary Russell Mitford (on the authority of her mother) about Jane Austen in her girlhood. Mrs. Mitford, before her marriage, lived at Ashe, the rectory next to Steventon, and Miss Mitford, in one of her pleasant rambling letters, quotes her mother as remembering Jane Austen well before her marriage, and adds: "Mamma says that she was then the prettiest, silliest, most husband-hunting butterfly she ever remembers." Such a description of Jane Austen carries glaring improbability on the face of it, but fortunately it is needless to begin a defence of her character, for Mrs. Mitford married and left Ashe before Jane was ten years old, and the intercourse between Ashe and Steventon had come to an end about three years before that. Most unintentionally, therefore. Miss Mitford perpetuated some complete misunderstanding of her mother's words, and we may fairly believe that some similar misunderstanding originated the story repeated to Sir Francis Doyle, who, seeing all its improbabilities, suggests himself that in some way or other his informant must have been "most unaccountably mistaken."