Source:
Letters of Jane Austen, published 1884
Above: Jane Austen, painted by Cassandra Austen.
Above: Cassandra Austen, artist unknown.
Jane Austen (born December 16, 1775, died July 18, 1817) was an English novelist known primarily for her six major novels, which interpret, critique and comment upon the British landed gentry at the end of the 18th century. Jane's plots often explore the dependence of women on marriage in the pursuit of favourable social standing and economic security. Her works critique the novels of sensibility of the second half of the 18th century and are part of the transition to 19th century literary realism. Her use of biting irony, along with her realism, humour, and social commentary have long earned her acclaim among critics, scholars and popular audiences alike.
With the publications of Sense and Sensibility (1811), Pride and Prejudice (1813), Mansfield Park (1814) and Emma (1816), Jane achieved success as a published writer. She wrote two additional novels, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, both of which were published posthumously in 1818, and began another, eventually titled Sanditon, but she died before its completion. She also left behind three volumes of juvenile writings in manuscript, a short epistolary novel, Lady Susan, and another unfinished novel, The Watsons. Her six full-length novels have rarely been out of print, although they were published anonymously and brought her moderate success and little fame during her lifetime.
A significant transition in her posthumous reputation came about in 1833, when her novels were republished in Richard Bentley's Standard Novels series, illustrated by Ferdinand Pickering and sold as a set. They gradually gained wider acclaim and popular readership. In 1869, fifty-two years after her death, her nephew's publication of A Memoir of Jane Austen introduced a compelling version of her writing career and supposedly uneventful life to an eager audience.
There is little biographical information about Jane's life other than the few letters that still exist and biographical notes that her family members wrote. During her lifetime, Jane may have written as many as 3,000 letters, but only 161 survived. Many of them were written to her older sister Cassandra, who in 1843 burned the majority of them and cut pieces out of the ones she spared from the fire. Cassandra may have destroyed or censored her sister's letters to prevent them being read by younger relatives and ensuring that "younger nieces would not read any of Jane Austen's sometimes acid or forthright comments on neighbours or family members." Cassandra believed that in the interest of tact and Jane's penchant for forthrightness, these details should be destroyed. The scarcity of record of Jane's life therefore leaves her biographers with little to go on. It is likely this blunt honesty, uninhibited by society's notions of propriety, politeness and tact, that has led a few to raise the possibility that Jane might have had an autism spectrum disorder. The same diagnosis could be a possibility for her brother George, who was severely disabled and mute since early childhood.
Despite the destruction of the letters years after her death, Jane and Cassandra were very close. For example: between 1785 and 1786 they attended the Reading Abbey Girls' School. Jane was originally not going to go, as she was considered too young to go to boarding school, but she ended up going there along with Cassandra because, in their mother's words, "if Cassandra's head had been going to be cut off, Jane would have hers cut off too."
Jane had begun to feel ill starting in early 1816, and as the year progressed and 1817 began, it turned into a long and eventually agonisingly painful battle with an illness that eventually left her immobile and bedridden and which was probably either Addison's disease or Hodgkin's lymphoma, and which Jane herself described as bile and rheumatism. In her last months it became so painful that she is said to have welcomed death. When Jane died of this illness on July 18, 1817, she took her last breath with her head resting in Cassandra's lap, and Cassandra later wrote of the pain she felt when she watched the hearse containing her sister's body go down the street and turn the corner away from her sight. "I had lost her forever", she wrote of that moment.
Jane wrote this letter to Cassandra from their home in the rectory of Steventon on January 9, 1796. At the time she had recently met a handsome young Irishman named Tom Lefroy, who visited Steventon from December 1795 to January 1796. He had just finished a university degree and was moving to London for training as a barrister. Tom and Jane would have met at a ball or other neighbourhood social gathering, and it is clear from Jane's letters to Cassandra that she spent a lot of time with him. She felt a deep attraction to him and subsequently none of her other suitors measured up. The Lefroy family intervened and sent Tom away at the end of January 1796. He and Jane both surely knew that a marriage between them was impractical, as neither of them had money, and Tom was financially dependent on a great-uncle in Ireland to finance his education and establish his legal career. Jane never saw him again after his departure, and when she died at age 41 she was unmarried and childless. It seems that she thought of Tom very often afterwards, as she mentions in a letter from January 1798 that she had had tea with one of his relatives and desperately wanted to ask about him but could not bring herself to do so.
The letter:
Steventon: Saturday (January 9). 1796
In the first place I hope you will live twenty-three years longer. Mr. Tom Lefroy's birthday was yesterday, so that you are very near of an age.
After this necessary preamble I shall proceed to inform you that we had an exceeding good ball last night, and that I was very much disappointed at not seeing Charles Fowle of the party, as I had previously heard of his being invited. In addition to our set at the Harwoods' ball, we had the Grants, St. Johns, Lady Rivers, her three daughters and a son, Mr. and Miss Heathcoate, Mrs. Lefevre, two Mr. Watkins, Mr. J. Portal, Miss Deanes, two Miss Ledgers, and a tall clergyman who came with them, whose name Mary would never have guessed.
We were so terrible good as to take James in our carriage, though there were three of us before; but indeed he deserves encouragement for the very great improvement which has lately taken place in his dancing. Miss Heathcote is pretty, but not near so handsome as I expected. Mr. H. began with Elizabeth, and afterwards danced with her again; but they do not know how to be particular. I flatter myself, however, that they will profit by the three successive lessons which I have given them.
You scold me so much in the nice long letter which I have this moment received from you, that I am almost afraid to tell you how my Irish friend and I behaved. Imagine to yourself everything most profligate 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 gentlemanlike, good-looking, pleasant young man, I assure you. But as to our having ever met, except at the three last 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.
We left Warren at Dean Gate, in our way home last night, and he is now on his road to town. He left his love, &c., to you, and I will deliver it when we meet. Henry goes to Harden to-day in his way to his Master's degree. We shall feel the loss of these two most agreeable young men exceedingly, and shall have nothing to console us till the arrival of the Coopers on Tuesday. As they will stay here till the Monday following, perhaps Caroline will go to the Ashe ball with me, though I dare say she will not.
I danced twice with Warren last night, and once with Mr. Charles Watkins, and, to my inexpressible astonishment, I entirely escaped John Lyford. I was forced to fight hard for it, however. We had a very good supper, and the greenhouse was illuminated in a very elegant manner.
We had a visit yesterday morning from Mr. Benjamin Portal, whose eyes are as handsome as ever. Everybody is extremely anxious for your return, but as you cannot come home by the Ashe ball, I am glad that I have not fed them with false hopes. James danced with Alithea, and cut up the turkey last night with great perseverance. You say nothing of the silk stockings; I flatter myself, therefore, that Charles has not purchased any, as I cannot very well afford to pay for them; all my money is spent in buying white gloves and pink persian. I wish Charles had been at Manydown, because he would have given you some description of my friend, and I think you must be impatient to hear something about him.
Henry is still hankering after the Regulars, and as his project of purchasing the adjutancy of the Oxfordshire is now over, he has got a scheme in his head about getting a lieutenancy and adjutancy in the 86th, a new-raised regiment, which he fancies will be ordered to the Cape of Good Hope. I heartily hope that he will, as usual, be disappointed in this scheme. We have trimmed up and given away all the old paper hats of Mamma's manufacture; I hope you will not regret the loss of yours.
After I had written the above, we received a visit from Mr. Tom Lefroy and his cousin George. The latter is really very well-behaved now; and as for the other, he has but one fault, which time will, I trust, entirely remove — it is that his morning coat is a great deal too light. He is a very great admirer of Tom Jones, and therefore wears the same coloured clothes, I imagine, which he did when he was wounded.
Sunday — By not returning till the 19th, you will exactly contrive to miss seeing the Coopers, which I suppose it is your wish to do so. We have heard nothing from Charles for some time. One would suppose they must have sailed by this time, as the wind is so favourable. What a funny name Tom has got for his vessel! But he has no taste in names, as we well know, and I dare say he christened it himself. I am sorry for the Beaches' loss of their little girl, especially as it is the one so much like me.
I condole with Miss M. on her losses and with Eliza on her gains, and am ever yours,
J. A.
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