Austen letters 152 & 153, to Caroline and Fanny Austen Knight, 20 Feb & 13 March 1817

Single Women have a dreadful propensity for being poor — which is one very strong argument in favour of Matrimony —

Miss Catherine is put upon the Shelve for the present, and I do not know that she will ever come out; but I have a something ready for Publication, which may perhaps appear about a twelvemonth hence. It is short, about the length of Catherine. — Austen

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Olivia Williams as the fatally ill Austen in Miss Austen Regrets (2008): she tries to but cannot walk

Dear friends and readers,

Over these last letters of Austen’s life a repeated controversy or difference of opinion has emerged in the discussions on Janeites, Austen-l and other list-servs. One school (I’ll call it) of view sees Austen as writing these two (as well as earlier letters to Anna and James-Edward Austen-Leigh) in a strongly ironic or hiddenly sarcastic spirit, where when Austen seems to praise something she is dispraising it. I cannot agree: to do that in a letter-writing situation, where the document is directly addressed to someone and circulated among others would be to risk the receiver understanding the document as ridicule. I do grant that reading the letters to Fanny Austen this way helps make sense of the over-the-top extravagant praise Austen ladles out to Fanny (as she had in much earlier years to Cassandra and occasionally over Francis’s letters) and makes a consistent whole of the letter. But it is a radically different way than I have been reading the letters, which realistically I find improbable in a letter sent to someone (letters are not novels), so I’ll carry on as I’ve done, while referring the reader to the alternative view. A third view finds the letters to be sentimental and filled with affection for Fanny, her brother, even Miss Milles; that too I will refer the reader to in the comments.

The context is calamitous. Austen is dying, probably of lymphoma cancer; her nephew William has been sent either to stay and help his aunts and grandmother (possibly to carry Aunt Jane) either by staying at the cottage or up at the great house. He is carrying these letters to Steventon, Wyards and Godmersham and carrying the answers and prompting letters back.

The second letter is written 5 days before Sanditon’s second date of 18 March 1817; on that day Austen put down her pen and (presumably) wrote no more fiction. Remarkably, according to her letter to Fanny, she had just put Persuasion away and at the same time was revising but not yet satisfied with Miss Catherine (the name she called Northanger Abbey at this point). James-Edward Austen-Leigh in his 1870 Memoir of his aunt fills out the writing context only alluded to in Austen’s letter to Fanny. He tells us that she had been working on the text in July and felt she had finished it in middle August. But

her performance did not satisfy her. She thought it tame and flat, and was desirous of producing something better. This weighed upon her mind, the more so probably on account of the weak state of her health; so that one night she retired to rest in very low spirits. But such depression was little in accordance with her nature, and was soon shaken off. The next morning she awoke to more cheerful views and brighter inspirations: the sense of power revived; and imagination resumed its course. She cancelled the condemned chapter, and wrote two others, entirely different, in its stead. ° The result is that we possess the visit of the Musgrove party to Bath; the crowded and animated scenes at the White Hart Hotel; and the charming conversation between Capt. Harville and Anne Elliot, overheard by Capt. Wentworth, by which the two faithful lovers were at last led to understand each other’s feelings. The tenth and eleventh chapters of Persuasion then, rather than the actual winding-up of the story, contain the latest of her printed compositions, her last contribution to the entertainment of the public. Perhaps it may be thought that she has seldom written anything more brilliant; and that, independent of the original manner in which the denouement is brought about, the pictures of Charles Musgrove’s good-natured boyishness and of his wife’s jealous selfishness would have been incomplete without these finishing strokes. The cancelled chapter exists in manuscript. It is certainly inferior to the two which were substituted for it: but it was such as some writers and some readers might have been contented with; and it contained touches which scarcely any other hand could have given; the suppression of which may be almost a matter of
regret.

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Again from Miss Austen Regrets (2008): Olivia Williams as Austen doing her last writing

To Caroline Austen, Wednesday 26 February 1817, Chawton to Steventon

You send me great News indeed my dear Caroline, about Mr Digweed and Mr Trimmer, & a Grand Piano Forte. I wish it had been a small one, as then you might have pretended! that Mr Digweed’s rooms were too damp to be fit for it, & offered to take charge of it at the Parsonage. — I am sorry to hear of Caroline Wiggetts being so ill. Mrs Chute I suppose would almost feel like a Mother in losing her. — We have but a poor account of your Uncle Charles 2d Girl; there is an idea now of her having Water in her head. The others are well. — William was mistaken when he told your Mama we did not mean to mourn for Mrs Motley Austen. Living here we thought it necessary to array ourselves in our old Black Gowns, because there is a line of Connection with the family through the Prowtings & Harrisons of Southampton. — I look forward to the 4 new Chapters with pleasure. – -But how can you like Frederick better than Edgar? — You have some eccentric Tastes however I know, as to Heroes & Heroines. – -Good bye.

It’s irresistible to use this as an occasion to compare the editing of this volume to that of the Troide team of Frances Burney D’Arblay’s many diairies and journals and letters. Had this been Troide or any of his associates, at the bottom of the page the specific Mrs Chute would be named; we would not have to read about the family in another part of the book, and try to guess which one. A single name at the bottom of the page for Charles’s 2d girl would suffice and there is none here anywhere: Harriet I found out by reading Maggie Lane’s family tree in her JA’s Family.

It seems the Digweeds now have a grand pianoforte — and that Caroline, like her aunt, plays regularly so Austen wishes it had been smaller so Caroline could have had it. Sick and dying people — as in Sanditon as we have aging people in Persuasion. It was Mrs Mary Chutts who was childless and had mothered Caroline Wiggetts. It does seem as if disabilities were not uncommon among the Austens: uncle Thomas, brother George, Eliza’s young boy Hastings and now Harriet. We lack statistics to know how common this kind of thing was among these intermarrying people. We see how much of a formal ritual so-called mourning was: you wore it for distant connections. Caroline is still writing her novel and her aunt says she looks forward to more chapters — encouraging the girl kindly. She, Jane, cannot understand how Caroline prefers (presumably Caroline’s character) Frederick to Edgar. But she has “eccentric Tastes … as to Heroes and Heroines.” Austen tries to tease her niece in a kindly sense as two equal readers but it seems her strength suddenly gives out and we have a flat quick (as of sudden exhaustion) “Good bye.”

An alternative reading.

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The later scenes between Fanny Austen Knight (Imogen Poots) and Jane bring out the tension and conflict between aunt and niece — how their outlooks differed considerably (Miss Austen Regrets, 2008)

To Fanny Austen Knight, 13 March 1817, Chawton to Godmersham

Austen opens with elaborate superlatives once again for Fanny’s writing, using tones that recall the way she would write to Cassandra early on in the collection. She returns to this at the letter’s. I don’t detect the tone of using Fanny as a specimen this time

As to making any adequate return for such a Letter as yours my dearest Fanny, it is absolutely impossible; if I were to labour at it all the rest of my Life & live to the age of Methusalah, I could never accomplish anything so long & so perfect; but I cannot let William go without a few Lines of acknowledgement & reply … Adeiu my dearest Fanny –Nothing could be more delicious than your Letter; & the assurance of your feeling releived by writing it, made the pleasure perfect.-But how could it possibly be any new idea to you, that you have a great deal of imagination — You are all over imagination — the most astonishing part of your character is, that with so much imagination, so much flight of mind such unbounded fancies, you should have such excellent judgement in what you do? — religious
principle I fancy must explain it.

In her last letters in the collection Cassandra assures Fanny that her aunt did like her very much and that these letters from Fanny were seen as very kind and cheered Aunt Jane in a way that suggests they were deliberate performances. Perhaps there is sharp irony here: can she really be writing straight when she suggests the writer of Emma could not accomplish anything so perfect — and long too. As her early marveling over Cassandra was so ths is beyond me, except as flattery, placating, encouraging more letters. When she attributes Fanny’s powerful imagination (!) to “religious Princple” I can only infer Austen is writing down what she thinks most acceptable and assert before all her family (as the letter might be passed around), her respect for Fanny and how Fanny is growing up into respectable womanhood.

Fanny’s set-piece seems to have been a social vignette of dancing, partying. Mr Wildman was at the center and Jane now concludes he is not sufficinetly in love with Fanny to want a match. Unfortunately this comment makes her like Miss Bingley (whom we recall Darcy told that when women walk with a man they jump to the idea a marriage will soon take place). The flirtation here has apparently been going on for a while, and Fanny is again jealous of someone else finding favor with the male she herself doesn’t want: Jemima Branfill.

Then the long piece about the single dead woman in Austen’s earlier flippant style. She who so loved social life would have been sorry to stop the proceedings. While reading Mansfield Park these past weeks, I was reminded of how jaundiced Austen herself often is towards social life in the letters, how dysfunctional she often finds whatever the meeting so her sarcasms are in character. Miss Milles left nothing and now we get Austen’s famous statement about how single women have such a propensity to be poor, but then Fanny need not worry, (unlike her aunt) she does not lack inclination. The word “Molly” probably does not refer to 18th century GLBT people, but is like the other jokes in the family about names, as in “though he was a Richard (found in NA).

Poor Miss C. Mil1es, that she should die on a wrong day at last, after being about it so long! — It was unlucky that the Goodnestone Party could not meet you, & I hope her friendly, obliging, social Spirit, which delighted in drawing People together, was not conscious of the division & disappointment she was occasioning. I am sorry & surprised that you speak of her as having little to leave, & must feel for Miss Milles, though she is Molly; if a material loss of Income is to attend her other loss. — Single Women have a dreadful propensity for being poor — which is one very strong argument in favour of Matrimony, but I need not dwell on such arguments with you, pretty Dear, you do not want inclination.

Meanwhile Fanny should not be in a hurry. If she is she will end up old and endlessly pregnant before her time (like Anna). She will meet someone, she should stop worrying (it’s Fanny who is worrying lest she not get a man), and Austen assures Fanny that he will love Fanny as “warmly” as ever he did. The second “he” refers to Plumptre again as her proceeds to ask about the Plumptres (the Gibbs and Fanny and her husband are all Plumpres or related to them).

Well, I shall say; as I have often said before, Do not be in a hurry; depend upon it, the right Man will come at last; you will in the course of the next two or three years, meet with somebody more generally unexceptionable than anyone you have yet known, who will love you as warmly as ever He did, & who will so completely attach you, that you will feel you never really loved before. — And then, by not beginning the business of Mothering quite so early inlife, you will be young in Constitution, spirits, figure & countenance, while Mr Wm Hammond is growing old by confinements & nursing. Do none of the Plumptres ever come to Balls now? — You have never mentioned them as being at any? –And what do you hear of the Gipps?-or of Fanny & her Husband.

Then the thought of endless pregnancies brings her sister-in-law and Anna to mind. Cassandra and Mrs Digweed walked over: she again remarks as she has many times before on the size of Frank’s wife when she gets pregnant. this time not so very big for her. Austen voices how off-putting all this is. They fear another pregnancy and another miscarriage.

Mrs F.A. is to be confined the middle of April, & is by no means remarkably Large for her. — Aunt Cassandra walked to Wyards yesterday with Mrs Digweed. Anna has had a bad cold, looks pale, & we fear something else. She has just weaned Julia. — How soon, the difference of temper in Children appears! — Jemima has a very irritable bad Temper (her Mother says so) –and Julia a very sweet one, always pleased & happy.-I hope as Anna is so early sensible of its defects, that she will give Jemima’s disposition the early & steady attention it must require.

Austen is suggesting hard discipline early on for a young girl child. Doubtless this was done to children at the time. It requires Anna herself spend time endlessly monitoring and correcting. That it’s a form of unpleasant bullying brings to mind another governess they know who has been let go. Austen is surprised to hear Harriot (Mrs George Moore) is getting rid of their governess. Of course the governess does this kind of mean thankless work. Could Harriot want to do it herself? Austen puts down the firing to the governess not having flattered the lead male in the house. What’s not made explicit is the Moores would save money –though the salaries paid such women were very small.

I cannot understand their plans in parting with Miss S- whom she seems very much to value, now that Harriot & Eleanor are both of an age for a governess to be so useful to; especially as when Caroline was sent to School some years. Miss Bell was still retained, though the others were mere Nursery Children. — They have some good reason I dare say; though I cannot penetrate it, & till I know what it is I shall invent a bad one and amuse myself with accounting for the difference of measures by supposing Miss S. to be a superior sort of Woman, who has never stooped to recommend herself to the Master of the family by Flattery, as Miss Bell did.

And then she answers Fanny’s kind inquiry about her writing, which brings to mind her state of health (soon to stop the writing altogether

I am got tolerably well again, quite equal to walking about & enjoying the Air; & by sitting down & resting a good while between my Walks, I get exercise enough. — I have a scheme however for accomplishing more, as the weather grows springlike. I mean to take to riding the Donkey It will be more independant & less troublesome than the use of the Carriage, & I shall be able to go about with Aunt Cassandra in her walks to Alton & Wyards. –

Walking about and enjoying the air in the house I presume — with William’s help? Or are we to imagine she walked out in the garden behind the house — the front, as we know, was bricked up. She dreams of herself being independent of physical help by the use of a donkey. She now presents herself as wanting to go to Alton (where Henry had had his business) and Wyards (where Anna lived). Then a paragraph in praise of William — Fanny’s brother. He’s been nauseous or ill-tempered (irritable) – she is sure Fanny would approve of giving him doses. That’s a sarcasm shared between her and Fanny; she is teasing Fanny and expects Fanny to get that. Does Fanny like to give those she has to cope with as a mother substitute ill-tasting doses to make them behave?

Maximillan Hammond married Anna Maria Shaw and Austen says while she cannot care for them as people she can enter into their situation and be happy for them: she is not referring to the marriage itself. It’s good they are being married because of their situation. A brief excursis into a scandal about which LeFaye gives a full note — Austen pays attention to the fates and experiences of the women though cannot (she says) care about Caroline. Did Fanny in her letter identify? Austen’s dismissive tone suggests boredom as much as condemnation.

I admit her comment on Charles’s daughter Harriet as bit too Mrs Norris like — we must hope she’ll die if she is disabled (water on the brain) I remember how Eliza was faithful to her child, Hastings, and find in the sentence that Charles is not taking this attitude but cares very much. Suddenly the other niece is not there: the father has taken her back — someone to deflect the reality of Harriet. Charles’s sufferings are skimmed over in these letters — Remember the death of his wife from the endless pregnancies, what he saw her suffer at sea, his court martial and the psychosomatic reactions in his face. And then back to the over-the-top praise which might be explained as irony, half-mockery, but I take at least the the last three phrases as meant literally, closing with a “God bless you.”

An alternative view, with Diana Birchall writing a week later.

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Cassandra (Gretta Scacchi) and Jane sitting by the fire — Jane ill (Miss Austen Regrets 2008)

The next two letters are again to Caroline who continues to write a novel or stories and send them in “parcels” to her aunt (she’s also acting in rivalry to her older half-sister, Anna, who used to do this) and in response to one of Fanny’s seeking to entertain her very ill aunt, e.g., “I am very much obliged to you my dearest Fanny for sending me Mr Wildman’s conversation.”

The interest of the controversy is several fold: how do we regard the woman Jane Austen and how do we think she saw herself as a writer. I suggest there has been much anachronism and wishful thinking in the determination to see Austen as a writing professional altogether assured, confident and making sound decisions on her own behalf. Clearly her letter to Crosby was a mistake and it backfired; while she did write to Murray when Henry was sick, she followed Henry’s advice and didn’t take the good offer of 450£ — with the result she ended up making 38£ and some shillings after herself and Henry bearing the costs of publication. Sometimes you do sell your copyrights (Trollope did and that way made his money right away; he felt he could not control what would happen in the printings of his books after the first edition anyway.) But she goofed on Pride and Prejudice, understandable intensely eager to see it published. She was like the women described in Lee Virginia Chambers-Schiller’s book, Liberty, A Better Husband: Single Women in America: the Generations of 1780-1840, a woman living within her family group, dependent on and controlled by them (she needed her 25£ allowance); in her case she had a serious vocation, she wrote all the live-long day whenever she was allowed to. She might have become sure of herself could she have carried on writing and publishing (as she clearly was trying to do to the very end), but she is not as yet. She is still living a sheltered life.

How do we look at life-writing, at letters, how do they relate to the novel-writing of the same person. Clearly they will be closely connected, and the ironies of the novels will turn up in the letters, but the whole context and function of the document is altered between fiction sent out to the public and a letter to a relative: it’s more than genre, its use and how they will be taken by those who were their audience. Austen is in need of these people, gratitude is the emotion that emerges, including to William. Underlying her trying to be better by saying she is so is the plangent reality. It may not soften her outlook into the gush she writes — as we can see from her comments on people outside the family, but gush she does write, kindly to the younger niece and flattering the older one. Maybe she wished Fanny was all imagination, super-talented the way she had praised her siblings when younger, to defuse any conflicts, to keep her affectionate. She may be doing through letters what she had tried to do earlier through letters and living arrangements and visits: make an imagined charmed circle around her for now through writing letters.

In my book on Trollope I wrote a chapter distinguishing the characteristics of non-fiction from fiction, among these are the reality that in a letter all that we see moves outwards to real people, and is ever only a fragment of reality outside the letter. We can say we know all we need to know of a character and situation inside the novel by the novel’s world itself; we cannot of life-writing at all.

Ellen

Author: ellenandjim

Ellen Moody holds a Ph.D in British Literature and taught in American senior colleges for more than 40 years. Since 2013 she has been teaching older retired people at two Oscher Institutes of Lifelong Learning, one attached to American University (Washington, DC) and other to George Mason University (in Fairfax, Va). She is also a literary scholar with specialties in 18th century literature, translation, early modern and women's studies, film, nineteenth and 20th century literature and of course Trollope. For Trollope she wrote a book on her experiences of reading Trollope on the Internet with others, some more academic style essays, two on film adaptations, the most recent on Trollope's depiction of settler colonialism: "On Inventing a New Country." Here is her website: http://www.jimandellen.org/ellen/ No part of this blog may be reproduced without express permission from the author/blog owner. Linking, on the other hand, is highly encouraged!

8 thoughts on “Austen letters 152 & 153, to Caroline and Fanny Austen Knight, 20 Feb & 13 March 1817”

  1. Thursday 13 March 1817
    Chawton, Thursday March 13.
    As to making any adequate return for such a Letter as yours my dearest Fanny, it is absolutely impossible; if I were to labour at it all the rest of my Life & live to the age of Methusalah, I could never accomplish anything so long & so perfect; but I cannot let William go without a few Lines of acknowledgement & reply. I have pretty well
    done with Mr Wildman. By your description he cannot be in love withyou, however he may try at it, & I could not wish the match unless there were a great deal of Love on his side. I do not know what to do about Jemima Branfill. What does her dancing away with so much spirit, mean?-that she does not care for him, or only wishes to appear not to care for him?-Who can understand a young Lady?-Poor Miss C. Mil1es, that she should die on a wrong day at last, after being about it so long!-It was unlucky that the Goodnestone Party could not meet you, & I hope her friendly, obliging, social Spirit, which delighted in drawing People together, was not conscious of the division & disappointment
    she was occasioning. I am sorry & surprised that you speak of her as having little to leave, & must feel for Miss Milles, though she is Molly; if a material loss of Income is to attend her other loss.-Single Women have a dreadful propensity for being poor-which is one very strong argument in favour of Matrimony, but I need not dwell on such arguments with you, pretty Dear, you do not want inclination.-Well, I shall say; as I have often said before, Donot be in a hurry; depend upon it, the right Man will come at last; you will in the course of the next two or three years, meet with somebody more generally unexceptionable than anyone you have yet known, who will love you as warmly as ever He did, & who will so completely attach you, that you will feel you never really loved before.-And then, by not beginning the business of Mothering quite so early in life, you will be young in Constitution, spirits, figure & countenance, while Mr Wm Hammond! is growing old by confinements & nursing. Do none of the Plumptres ever come to Balls now?-You have never mentioned them as being at any?-And what do you hear of the Gipps?-or of Fanny & her Husband — Mrs F. A. is to be confined the middle of April, & is by no means remarkably Large for her.-Aunt Cassandra walked to Wyards yesterday with Mrs Digweed. Anna has had a bad cold, looks pale, & we fear something else.t-=She has just weaned Julia.-How soon, the difference of temper in Children appears!-Jemima has a very irritable
    oad Temper (her Mother says so )-and Julia a very sweet one, always pleased & happy.-I hope as Anna is so early sensible of its defects, that she will give Jemima’s disposition the early & steady attention it must require. I have also heard lately from your Aunt Harriet, & cannot derstand their plans in parting with Miss S- whom she seems very much to value, now that Harriot & Eleanor are both of an age for a governess to be so useful to; especially as when Caroline was sent to School some years, Miss Bell was still retained, though the others were mere Nursery Children. – They have some good reason I dare say; h I cannot penetrate it, & till I know what it is I shall invent a bad one myself with accounting for the difference of measures by supposing Miss S. to be a superior sort of Woman, who has never stooped to recommend herself to the Master of the family by Flattery, as Miss Bell did.-I will answer your kind questions more than you expect.-Miss Catherine is put upon the Shelve for the present, and I do not know that she will ever come out; but I have a something ready for Publication, which may perhaps appear about a twelvemonth hence. It is short, about the length of Catherine.- This is for yourself alone. Neither Mr Salusbury nor Mr Wildman are to know of it.

    I am got tolerably well again, quite equal to walking about & enjoying the Air; & by sitting down & resting a good while between my Walks, I get exercise enough.-I have a scheme however for accomplishing more, as the weather grows springlike. I mean to take to riding the Donkey It will be more independant & less troublesome than the use of the Carriage, & I shall be able to go about with Aunt Cassandra in her walks to Alton & Wyards.-

    I hope you will think. wm looking well. He was bilious the other day, & Aunt Cass: supplied him with a Dose at his own request, which seemed to have good effect.-I was sure you would have approved it.– Wm & I are the best of friends. I love him very much.-Everything is so natural about him, his affections, his Manners & his Drollery-He entertains & interests us extremely-Max: Hammond & A. M. Shaw are people whom I cannot care for, in themselves, but I enter into their situation & am glad they are so happy-If I were the Duchess of Richmond, I should be very miserable about my son’s choice. What can be expected from a Paget, born & brought up in the centre of conjugal Infidelity & Divorces?-I will not be interested about Lady Caroline. I abhor all the race of Pagets. — Our fears increase for poor little Harriet; the latest account is that Sir Everett Home is confirmed in his opinion of there being Water on the brain.-I hope Heaven in its mercy will take her soon. Her poor Father will be quite worn out by his feelings for her.-He cannot spare Cassy at present, she is an occupation & a comfort to him.

    Adeiu my dearest Fanny-Nothing could be more delicious than your Letter; & the assurance of your feeling releived by writing it, made the pleasure perfect.-But how could it possibly be any new idea to you, that you have a great deal of imagination — the most astonishing part of your Character is, that with so much imagination, so much flight of mind, such unbounded Fancies, you should have such Excellent Judgement in what you do! — Religious principle I fancy must explainit — Well, good bye & God bless you.

    Your very affectionately,
    JAusten
    Miss Knight
    Godmersham Park

  2. Diane Reynolds’s reading:

    This is another short letter, another distancing rather than intimate letter. JA is hiding herself and her real concerns behind humor, or as Diana well puts it, bantering. We see here the trivia of Austen’s life as she struggles with a serious illness and with continuing her writing. Not surprisingly, given Caroline’s age, what we learn of are the superficialities, the surface: country gossip, who is sick, who has died, and more evidence of Austen’s ever-more precious time taken reading fiction by her nieces and nephews.

    Austen opens with a puzzle and a mystery–as Diana says, we need the letter from Caroline to understand the references fully–and a triangle: “you have sent me great News indeed my dear Caroline, about Mr. Digweed Mr Trimmer and a Grand Piano Forte.” The news is no doubt fairly trivial country gossip, but Austen responds to it with a comic gravitas.

    Then, in the second sentence, a typical flight of fancy and (joking) coveting on the part of this music lover–too bad the piano wasn’t smaller or you could have found an excuse–damp rooms–to “take charge of it.” I do, however, think of the woman who visited Chawton and wrote of JA constantly being exposed to things she couldn’t have.

    Then a break, indicated by a dash. The humor ends in favor of sorrow to hear of Caroline Wiggins being ill and then of Charles’ daughter, the Water in her head ailment explored by Diana. It is a mysterious complaint, but the child does appear from what Diana provides to have been continuously sick. The gentle disposition that warrants such rave reviews was no doubt a symptom of her illness.

    JA hastens to assure Caroline, with some dry humor–and no real indication of grieving –that William was mistaken in saying they wouldn’t mourn Mrs. Motley Austen (I agree we could use better notes here): “We thought it necessary to array ourselves in our old Black Gowns.” This is a parodic mourning more than anything, the women arrayed like crows in old dresses–no new mourning and more distancing prose: “We felt it necessary.” They did not know or hardly knew this relative who died. If the cult of mourning is beginning to grow in this period, we can see JA making fun of the insincerity of mourning people one doesn’t know and hence can’t grieve with real feeling, a distaste for hypocrisy. We see some quivers of Marianne Dashwood in this, though Austen’s dry humor is far different from Marianne’s sensibility. It would have been interesting, to say the least, to see how Austen dealt with the Victorian period.

    Finally, a new subject, as JA responds to the prospect of receiving more of Caroline’s writing: “I look forward to 4 new chapters with pleasure,” followed by a few comments showing an interest in the characters, and finally, some more distancing reminiscent of her style with Fanny: “You have some eccentric Tastes however, I know, as to Heroes and Heroines.”

  3. Again an alternative reading by Diane Reynolds:

    The opening is another giddy, over-the top bit of raillery laced with
    double-edged s/words: it would be “absolutely impossible” to make “an
    adequate return” for a letter such as Fanny’s (now what DOES she mean
    by that: presumably more of what Ellen would call using FK as a
    specimen). JA couldn’t write such a letter as FK’s even if she were
    to “labor at it all the days of my life”–and in another poignant
    instance of awareness of her health, with the addition of noting that
    she means even if she were to “live to the age of Methusalah.” Even
    were she to live such hundreds of years, JA “could never accomplish
    anything so long and so perfect.” Long is no compliment, really, and
    “perfect”–well, didn’t Austen famously say she couldn’t stand
    pictures of perfection? So–what an opening!

    Austen discourages Fanny’s interest in Mr. Wildman, though perhaps in
    mockery. “I have pretty well done with Mr. WIldman.” Apparently, FK
    has detailed a rather fatuous ballroom scene of rivalry and
    ofattention paid to a Jemima Branford, that JA responds to with equal
    silliness–what could Jemima’s dancing with such spirit possibly
    mean???? what could it mean???– offering a commonplace dull response,
    the kind of commonplace cant she disliked and uses here as dismissal
    of the subject: “Who can understand a young lady?”

    She then, after a dash, moves on to the subject of poor Mrs. Milles,
    again with mockery of FK– how inconsiderate of the poor old lady, who
    Arnie informs us was in her 90s, to die on a day inconvenient to
    Fanny! No need to say more about that, as others have covered it well.

    JA goes on to write that she is “sorry and surprised” to hear that
    Mrs. Milles had little to leave–JA’s heart and mind turn, as by
    implication Fanny’s haven’t, to the fate of Miss Milles, “[I] must
    feel for Miss Milles, though she is Molly, [that mysterious phrase] if
    a material loss of income is to attend her other loss.” As always, we
    see the socially and economically marginal Jane Austen acutely aware
    of and sensitive to the importance of money. Then the famous line,
    with its echoes in Emma, of single women having a dreadful propensity
    to be poor. Why do I hear too echoes of the wicked witch of the west
    in the next line, in which JA acknowledges financial security as a
    “very strong” argument in favor of matrimony, then says–and here is
    where I hear the wicked witch: “I need not dwell on such arguments
    with you, pretty dear, you do not want inclination.” This is acidic–
    at least in one reading–and the closest we come that I can think of
    to Austen acknowledging that some women don’t have the “inclination”–
    the closest we come a queer Austen echoing her inner Charlotte Lucas–
    yes, the money is good, but the “inclination” … is not there.
    Perhaps, of course, this is the illness speaking–if there were ever a
    time we can imagine JA losing sexual interest, it would be now.

    Austen continues to dole out advice, now dropping the giddy tone to
    become motherly and sensible–don’t be in a hurry, the right man will
    come along who will value you as you deserve and when he does you will
    know it: “you will feel you have never really loved before.” Waiting a
    few years, she adds, has the added benefit of not rushing into
    motherhood, which will help keep FK young “in constitution, spirits,
    figure and Countenance.” This reads as kindly, sincere advice, and is
    of a piece with Austen’s long concern over pregnancy.

    JA moves on to ask after the Plumptrees, to mention another Fanny’s
    confinement and from there to move to Cassandra visiting Anna–Austen
    by now is ill, but this lack of a visit is also part of a consistent
    pattern–and apparently–is this from Ellen or the Le Faye notes?–
    Anna may have miscarried.

    Ellen mentioned the governess–JA’s dismay at Aunt Harriot parting
    with the governess called Miss S–and that jumped out at me too. JA
    writes that she can’t understand why Miss S is being let go when the
    daughters, Harriot and Eleanor, are of an age for a governess “to be
    so useful to”–Ellen mentions saving money by letting her go, if even
    just a little–and I wondered if JA is not upset that Miss S is being
    laid off just when the job would have gotten easier and more rewarding
    as the girls grew up–it seems very possible that as soon as the girls
    are easy to take care of, the governess has been given the shaft.
    Infuriating. I also imagine JA is hoping–very well aware–that her
    words of disapproval will get around–she knows how gossip goes and
    that FK gossips–like Mammy in Gone With the Wind, is JA expressing
    her outrage in a way such that others will hear it but will not be
    able to say anything back to her, especially as she is sick? Does she
    even hope FK might have some influence? JA’s “they have some good
    reason, though I cannot penetrate it” is disingenuous and I imagine
    she wants FK to repeat the thought that Miss S. is “a superior sort
    of woman” who never “stooped” to flattering the master, as Miss Bell,
    the former governess, did. Sharp words. JA is getting angrier as she
    writes, so she breaks off and changes to happier thoughts, her own
    fiction, writing of putting Catherine (NA?) on the shelf and working
    on something else: Persuasion? It would, as always, be nice to know
    more about THIS subject.

    Jane goes on to talk about feeling “tolerably well” again–careful,
    hedging words–and she doesn’t sound very well, only able to walk
    about and take the air with frequent rests between her walks. She
    talks about trying to get around on the donkey when the weather is
    better, with Cassandra walking beside her–that is hardly a picture of
    good health. This is what it has come to for her.

    I will skip over the Pagets–Le Faye mentions their scandals in the
    notes–and then there is Austen’s heartfelt hope that little Harriet,
    ill with the water on the brain, will be taken soon–Austen sees this
    as a mercy. Again, hard not to read in echoes of JA’s own condition.

    Austen ends with more hyperbole about Fanny’s imagination: “Nothing
    could be more delicious than your letter–” those sound like dangerous
    words to me–and “You are all over Imagination.” More backhanded,
    acidic words come forth, as Austen continues to study Fanny–the
    mystery, Austen writes, is that someone so flighty and fanciful (again
    not really compliments!) should also be so sensible, conventional–at
    least that is how I read, “such unbounded fancies … such excellent
    Judgment in what you DO.” (emphasis mine.) In other words, FK might be
    a drama queen, might talk a good wild, romantic talk, but in the end
    she is going to follow the bouncing ball of money and convention and
    JA knows it. JA attributes it to “Religious Principle”– I take this
    to mean that FK will not step out of the bounds of conventional
    morality. On that note JA has had enough and says “goodbye and God
    bless you.”

  4. From Rita Lamb:

    I know I often understand the tone of Austen’s letters differently from others on the site, and sometimes the actual meaning of words too. In this case I took JA’s reference to having some sympathy for bereaved Miss Milles ‘though she is Molly’ simply to mean that Miss Milles’ given name was Mary, but she was known by the unfashionable pet-name of Molly. Perhaps while Fanny was passing on the gossip about her loss she may have commented on the name’s inappropriately girlish ring? Mary Milles was a spinster in her fifties when she lost her mother, the sociable Mrs Ruth Milles.

    In her will Mrs Milles asked to be buried as ‘privately as may be with proper decency no Rings to be given to any Person but the Silk and whatever else is necessary I desire may be of the best sort’. So realistically she’s not expecting any splashy funeral with plumes, mutes and gold mourning rings distributed right and left, but doesn’t want it to look downright shabby. She lived in the Cathedral precincts, and so was almost certainly the widow of a former member of the chapter.

    She seems open-handed. She left £100 to a dear friend; twenty guineas to a sister-in-law (who lived in Grosvenor Square and so probably didn’t need it?); charitable bequests, some quite generous like fifty pounds to a hospital, some small like five guineas to the ‘Society for the Relief of the Widows & orphans of Clergymen’; her servants are to have ten guineas plus a guinea for each year they had lived with her, as well and above their due wages; but everything else, all the ‘Land, Estates & money I am worth’ is to go to ‘my Dear daughter Mary Milles’, her named executrix.

    Well, not sure but that ‘Land, Estates & money I am worth’ may be a piece of hopeful legalese since Mrs Milles goes into no detail about any lands and estates, whereas people who actually owned real property were pretty specific. Also she notes elsewhere that she has written out this will herself, and when it comes to proving it, two witnesses have to testify they recognise her writing.

    A little hesitantly she leaves it up to her daughter Mary to provide one legacy – ‘I believe and am confident that she will leave some Legacy, (whatever from circumstances she may judge most proper)’ -for a ‘Miss Sarah Norris Brooke if she should outlive my daughter’. Miss Brooke sounds like a longtime servant or companion? (Shades of ‘The Watsons’ and Emma’s uncle, who made no provision for her in his will because he apparently trusted her aunt would do so.) And later a codicil specifies that Mary Milles should get any ‘long annuities’ currently due to her mother. (These apparently were annuities payable over a fixed period, so presumably valid beyond the death of the original recipient. But how many would be active if this lady died at an advanced age, and how long would they continue? The codicil seems to be dated 1808.)

    A final codicil leaves £200 in trust to Mary, who’s asked to pay the yearly interest to a 13 year-old niece of Mrs Milles’ servant, and to hand over the main sum when the girl reaches the age of 21. If the child dies beforehand though the £200 reverts to Mary’s use.

    Basically Mrs Milles sounds like a kindly soul who loved her servants (and even her servants’ sweet teenage nieces), and wanted to leave them all a little something. Only, all those little somethings added up. So I don’t know what residual estate Mary came in for, but if it was money only, then the will subtracts about £400 – £500 from what she would have had, which may represent quite a damaging drop in her annual income.

    She survived her mother by five years.

    ****************
    Ellen, about Miss Mary Milles – all the information/speculation I posted yesterday was from her mother’s will (available online from the National Archives, Wills, Catalogue Reference:prob 11/1592).

    I’m puzzled though by Austen’s reference to the mother as ‘Mrs C Milles’, as her name is certainly given as ‘Ruth’ in the will. What’s more I therefore convinced myself from skimming various genealogy sites that she must be the Ruth Leigh Hunt who married John Milles in 1761, had a daughter, Mary, in 1765 and was buried on 17 March 1817. But in that case shouldn’t she have been ‘Mrs J Milles’?

    Nor does she seem to fit very well with the biographical info Arnie is quoting, apart from the house in the cathedral precincts; so I’m starting to wonder – did I perhaps get the wrong Mrs Milles? But surely two elderly Mrs Milleses domiciled in the precincts didn’t die in Kent in early March 1817?? Perhaps DLF can help.

    However, at least it’s clear that Ruth’s daughter Mary Milles and Fanny Knight knew each other, because when Mary herself died in 1822 she left ten pounds of capital stock to ‘Dame Fanny Knatchbull, wife of Sir Edward Knatchbull of Marsham(sic) Hatch in the said County of Kent Baronet’.

  5. On Mollys and Molly houses: from Rictor Norton’s texts:

    See https://suite.io/janet-cameron/66492je, from which I copy:

    “In the early part of the eighteenth century, spies were used to search out and close molly houses, which were ale houses used as meeting places for homosexuals, although it would be some time before the word “homosexual” came into common usage. “Molly” was a derogatory word to describe a homosexual man and is derived from the Latin word “mollis” meaning “soft”. Formerly, this word had been used for female prostitutes. The spies were organised by Societies for the Reformation of Manners.
    The molly house provided a large room, where mainly working-class men could go for sex. There was cross-dressing and some of the men adopted female names, many of them highly exotic. This effeminacy was in stark contrast to the masculine rakes of the previous century. It’s claimed that, during the 1700s, about twenty molly houses were closed down.

    Mock Lying-In Ceremonies
    In “The Mollies Club, 1709-10”, Homosexuality in Eighteenth-Century England – A Sourcebook, Editor Rictor Norton, – original source “Of the Mollies Club”, Chapter XXV of Edward Ward’s Satyrical Reflections on Clubs, first published in 1709 – Norton quotes Ward describing the ceremonies of the molly clubs. Norton emphasises that the mock lying-in ceremony, when a man pretended to be a woman giving birth, was merely a gay folk ritual and, much later in 1810, several men were arrested in the act of performing such a ritual. “The cross-dressing and lying-in rituals that Ward describes took place at specific times, called “Festival Nights”. They were almost always associated with masquerade festivals, representing some kind of survival of folk rituals.” Although the lyings-in were only held at festivals, probably around the end of December each year, the men mimicked women at all their gatherings, dressing like women, gossiping, exchanging feminine confidences and lewd talk.

    Role Play in the Brandy Shop
    Edward Ward tells how nine gay men were arrested at a gay man’s brandy shop, used as a regular meeting place. He describes these men “who fancied themselves to be women” and “fall into all the impertinent Tittle Tattle that a merry Society of good Wives can be subject to, when they have laid aside their modesty for the Delights of the Bottle.”

    The men called themselves “Sisters” and for the lying-in, one would wear a night-gown to give birth, attended by a “very officious Nurse” and when the wooden “joynted Babie” was born, the midwife would dress the baby and the men would carry out the Holy Sacrament of Baptism. Then, the men would relax into their roles, tattling about their children, their genius and their wit. One would be extolling the “Vertues of her Husband”, and declare he was “a Man of that Affable, Kind and easie Temper, and so avers’d to Jealousie, that she believ’d were he to see another Man in Bed with her, he would be so far from thinking her an ill Woman…” Another would be telling what a “forward Baggage Her Daughter Nancy was.” Yet another would be wishing “no Woman to Marry a Drunken Husband, for her sake, for all the Satisfaction she found in Bed with him, was to creep as close to the Wall as she could to avoid his Tobacco Breath and unsavoury Belches.” And so on…

    Ward concluded with his belief that this effeminate gossip was meant to extinguish the natural affection due to women. After all this, the usual activities of the molly house would resume – that is, until the Reforming Society gathered strength and managed to put an end to their “scandalous Revels”.

    Mother Clap’s
    In 1726, after a tip-off, there was a raid on Mother Clap’s, a famous molly house in Holborn, London. The woman who ran it, Margaret Clap, was sentenced to the stocks.

    Local people savagely assaulted the unfortunate woman while she was in the stocks and it’s believed she died shortly after from her injuries, although there is no written record. What is known is that sentencing to the stocks was a most cruel punishment. People had their bare feet whipped, a practice known as bastinado, and this was excruciatingly painful due to the cluster of nerve endings in the soles of the feet. Those subjected to the stocks were often left for days in all weathers and many died from heat and exhaustion. Sometimes those who were dragged back to jail were so covered in filth as to be unrecognisable.

    Men who were caught on Mother Clap’s premises were hanged at Tyburn on 9 May 1726.

    Sources:

    • Norton, Rictor, “The Mollies Club, 1709-10”, Homosexuality in Eighteenth-Century England – A Sourcebook.

  6. Rictor Norton’s book on clap-houses and Mollys and homosexuality in general in the 18th century is superb, and I agree Austen would probably have heard the term. Miss Milles was apparently called Moy or Molly. If it’s a hidden reference, this would fit Emma Donoghue’s paradigm for implicit half-hidden lesbianism in the period among spinsters — a paradigm that Austen’s life style to some extent and that of several of her friends (Martha Lloyd is not the only one) fits — Cassandra’s not quite since she spent such an amount of time caring for children of her brothers.

    I see evidence of an implicit lesbianism in Charlotte Lucas not caring who she has to go to bed with and the hurt she feels in having to part from Elizabeth (and Elizabeth from having to feel that Charlotte is not what she wanted to idealize her as). Is anyone up for seeing Miss Bates as choosing not to marry for similar reasons as Charlotte? Miss Bates is a piece of self-caricature too — Austen making fun of herself, seeing herself as perhaps others saw her until she began publishing the formidable novels.

    The family though did just like to use names to make fun. We all know (I assume) that people attach certain kinds of conventional pictures to names: this kind of person is a Phyllis, that a George. She is still doing this in NA: though his name was Richard.

    I’m glad to place Norton’s work put before us as they remind us of another group savagely mistreated in the 18th century. The story of the woman in the stocks is just par for the course about human heartlessness, sheer cruel enjoyment of other people’s pain when they are helpless.

    Ellen

  7. This is, in short, a response to one of the letters Cassandra thanked Fanny for writing, to keep up her dying sister’s spirits even when it was hard. Jane’s tone in answering isn’t as giddy as in former days, and her fulsome acknowledgement (“if I were to labour at it all the rest of my Life & live to the age of Methuselah, I could never accomplish anything so long and perfect”) seems to show her awareness that Fanny has made an extra effort, and that she knows “the rest of her life” will be the opposite of Methuselah’s. I like Diane’s comment that “long and perfect” isn’t much of a compliment; but she’s thanking her for trying.

    She tries to answer the flirtatious gossip Fanny has sent her, and manages the famous and rueful, “Who can understand a young Lady?” Well, perhaps no one on the face of the earth as well as herself, that’s who.

    Then the business about Mrs. Milles dying “on the wrong day at last, after being about it so long!” Who can understand how a woman dying at forty-one feels about another who has died at nearly one hundred? It sounds like a bit of a cold Jane Austen remark, but she must have thought of the contrast. That Mrs. Milles has little to leave, makes her “feel
    for Miss Milles, though she is Molly, if a material loss of income is to attend her other loss.” Then the famous zinger: “Single Women have a dreadful propensity for being poor.” She is certainly still turning the phrases, even with only a few months left to live. It’s certainly very plausible that Mrs. and Miss Milles might have been some sort of models for the Bateses, or that observing their situation (as well as others, doubtless) made her draw her portrait of the narrowness of poor single women’s lives. Though she is “sorry and surprised” to hear that Mrs. Milles had little to leave. Never mind: she surely had plenty of examples of needy single women around her to observe, all her life.

    I think we all find this passage intensely interesting, hoping to intuit something about Jane Austen’s own attitudes about marriage and her choices:

    “…which is one very strong argument in favour of Matrimony, but I need not dwell on such arguments with you, pretty Dear, you do not want inclination.”

    Do we take this to mean that Jane Austen herself did not have inclination to marry? That she very nearly married Harris Bigg-Wither simply to avoid the propensity for being poor, and without inclination, seems undoubted, but what about other men, other chances? People have speculated about this forever, and we are not going to solve the mystery by studying this letter. We don’t know enough biographically; too many letters were destroyed. It must forever be left in the hands of the romantic novelists, and Jane Austen sleeps with her secret of her loves and her proclivities, her sacrifice and her abstention, closed to us.

    For Fanny she predicts that the commonplace will happen for her, as it does for most common women, though she herself will not live to see it: “Donot be in a hurry; depend upon it, the right Man will come at last; you will in the course of the next two or three years, meet with somebody more generally unexceptionable than anyone you have known, who will love you as warmly as ever He did, & who will so completely attach you, that you will feel you never really loved before.”

    This is remarkable, for how does she know this will happen? She isn’t inferring it because anything like it happened to her. Perhaps it’s as simple as that, in her view, it will happen to Fanny because Fanny is man crazy, and Fanny has money. With those two factors, it cannot fail. Jane Austen may have been a “husband hunting butterfly” once herself, some of her gay early letters come from that period, though there’s a strained, yes giddy note about them. Perhaps she did take some participatory pleasure in marrying off her heroines. But her own climacteric, her resignation to spinsterhood, the knowledge that no one was coming for her, happened more than ten years before this letter, when she and Cassandra took to wearing the caps of middle aged spinsterhood “too early,” as a niece wrote.

    Yet she is wrong about Fanny, for whom a typical joyous young romance as Jane predicts, didn’t exactly come about. Fanny became the second wife of a baronet, Sir Edward Knatchbull, three years later at age 27 – a wealthy but hardly romantic marriage. He was a dozen years older than she, and the father of six children. Perhaps it soured her on her spinster aunt’s romantic predictions, and she thereafter saw the world as a much less storybook sort of place than Jane was promising. “I am not romantic,” said Charlotte Collins, “I never was.” But Fanny was romantic when young, and settled into unromantic marriage, enduring nine lyings-in of her own, enough to sober and sour her far past her long-ago Aunt Jane’s flattering ideas; perhaps she looked back on her baldly and wryly as a pastoral long-ago way of thinking.

    Jane Austen goes into a full flow of practical talk about pregnancies and confinements here, I think more so than in any other letter. Fanny will benefit from “not beginning the business of Mothering quite so early in life,” is a level-headed observation and certainly not romanticizing – she’s not talking about the joys of motherhood but the business! Fanny will be young while a friend is “growing old by confinements & nursing,” something which clearly did not appeal to JA at all. She may have hoped, when young, to be fallen in love with by a man, but if anybody can detect in her any yearnings for motherhood whatsoever, commend them to me!

    The “largeness” of pregnant Mrs. Frank Austen, the pale looks of Anna with her being so sunk under “the business of mothering” (Deirdre thinks she miscarried here), and then Jane Austen goes into some interesting reflections on childhood, that we may examine:

    “She has just weaned Julia. – How soon, how very soon, the differences of temper in Children appears! – Jemima has a very irritable bad Temper (her Mother says so) – & Julia a very sweet one, always pleased & happy. – I hope as Anna is so early sensible of its defects, that she will give Jemima’s disposition the early & steady attention it must require.”

    Poor Jemima! These are severe Phillipics for a young mother to deliver about her first-born baby. Anna was 21 when she married in November 1814, and 22 when Anna Jemima was born, in October 1815. Julia-Cassandra followed less than one year later, in September 1816, so the two little girls were very close in age. At the time of this letter, Jemima was 17 months old, Julia 5 months old. Jane Austen did not live to see the next child, a boy, George-Benjamin-Austen, born in May 1818, and if Anna was pregnant at this time, it did not result in a live birth. Anna must have been quite overwhelmed, to be complaining about her 17-month-old’s “irritable bad Temper,” and Jane Austen’s strictures on the child’s “defects” may seem severe too. Still, “the early & steady attention it must require,” is not recommending harshness or a beating, only attention, which doesn’t seem that extraordinary.

    Some interest in the domestic details of Fanny’s Aunt Harriot’s household and governesses, ending with a fanciful imagining why the governess was dismissed; and then, probably bored, she turns to answering Fanny’s question about her book, with the famous answer, “Miss Catherine is put on the Shelve for the present, and I do not know that she will ever come out; but I have a something ready for Publication, which may perhaps appear a twelvemonth hence. It is short, about the length of Catherine. – This is for yourself alone. Neither Mr. Salusbury nor Mr. Wildman are to know it,” so in talking about Persuasion, she ends with raillery about Fanny’s lovers and the likelihood of her gossipping to them.

    The sad passage about her health – “quite equal to walking about & enjoying the Air,” but not well enough to go with Cassandra on her walks to Alton and Wyards, only about a mile. She hopes to ride a Donkey, but it is a vain hope.

    A panegyric to Fanny’s younger brother William, 18, sounds genuine enough; she did love her nephews and enjoyed them in their young-mannishness (as with JEAL), and tells why: “Everything is so natural about him, his affections, his Manners, & his Drollery. – He entertains & interests us exceedingly.”

    The famous criticisms of the Pagets: “What can be expected of a Paget, born & brought up in the centre of conjugal Infidelity & Divorces?…I abhor all the race of Pagets.”

    And little Harriet whom the doctor says has “water on the brain.” Were it so, an early release such as Jane Austen wishes for her, is not callous, for nothing could be done then for the terrible condition of hydrocephalus. Most here may be too young to remember, but I do remember a time when I was young, seeing children whose brains had expanded from “water on the brain,” to a monstrous, nightmare size; it was invariably fatal. My husband at six in hospital for a hernia operation (circa 1950) was in a ward with several of these children, which gave him nightmares for years; the head is gigantically enlarged and the brain affected. We also used to see people pitted with smallpox. These are things you don’t see in the developed western countries anymore; we only saw the tail end of them, but of course they were infinitely commoner and more fearsome in JA’s day. Her “I hope Heaven in its mercy will take her soon,” is only natural. In the event, however, Harriet survived whatever her ailment was.

    Jane closes with more affectionate compliments to Fanny, for her “delicious letter,” to assure her that she has imagination (“you are all over Imagination”), and that how astonishing it is that “with so much Imagination, so much flight of Mind, such unbounded Fancies, you should have such excellent Judgement in what you do! – Religious Principle I fancy must explain it.” This might be tongue in cheek – or not. With Jane Austen, who can tell? But her “good bye and God bless you,” is genuine enough, “charity itself.”

    Diana

  8. I just read Diana’s full & judicious reading of this letter which I’m basically in agreement with. I have just read the next three letters in the collection (two to Caroline and one to Fanny) and I see another to JEAL. There is a sort of kind conspiracy going on here with all this novel material produced by Caroline and JEAL.

    I will speculate this, but it’s from my reading of the letters. I felt around the time Austen had to leave London upon Henry’s bankruptcy and before Emma was published, that she was sorely regretting it, had some intuition she would not be back for a long time if at all, and I suggest Clarke’s offer of his study-library for her to stay in was a response to something she wrote in this vein to him. Maybe she didn’t want to go to the party with Madame de Stael that night but the full context of that one is Henry, newly widowed himself, was not so keen, and a feeling she didn’t know this particular group of people so she’d be uncomfortable and over-react (that’s how I see her “a wild beast”), rather like Mr Bennet’s eccentricity when he is surrounded (as he often is) by fools; when he is with Bingley we are told, his eccentricities fade away. But I think she did want to participate in the literary life of London, she wanted to be part of this milieu if in imagination mostly. Murray helped her there by getting Scott to write about her — out of his own business interests of course. By this time (of the letter) she knows not only is she not going back but she should have taken Murray’s offer, it was even generous. 450 pounds instead of 38 and now 20.

    So my guess is this niece and nephew are trying to form a kind of substitute circle — making her feel better as they see it. They don’t understand her novel writing but know how much she values it so (pray excuse this expression) out of the kindness of their hearts they are spinning them out ,sending them to her, asking for criticism. They may have thought of this as distraction for her and making her feel valued.

    Fanny for her part no novelist sends letters of her social life and loves to entertain too.

    I do disagree on two points. I’m not sure that Jane knows what water on the brain produces; there were no hospitals in this era for people to see one another so easily — often people thought retardation. In fact Harriet lived to 65 — I don’t know if she was another let’s call it low-functioning autistic person in the family — that’s a phrase used for disabilities on the mental spectrum. She didn’t marry but then she didn’t have a lot of money.

    The other is the discipline of Jemima. I think Austen means what those words imply: severity not beating but mental severity which is meant in part to partly break a child’s spirit. They meant to do that in the public schools too. This line of thinking associates into talking about the governess because it’s the sort of thing most people find unpleasant (very) so they forced governesses to take it on.

    Otherwise I find all Diana’s extapolations — especially about Fanny later in life — spot on.

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