Bot-S: The Complete Works of Jane Austen

CONTENTS

PAGE

Love and Freindship 5

Lesley Castle 47

The History of England g 5

Collection of Letters 103

Scraps 131

Vll

2£PREFACE££

IN a recent newspaper controversy about the conventional
silliness and sameness of all the human generations pre-
vious to our own, ^somebody said that in the world of
Jane Austen a lady was expected to faint when she received
a proposal. To those who happen to have read any of the
works of Jane Austen, the connection of ideas will appear
slightly comic. Elizabeth Bennet, for instance, received
two proposals from two very confident and even masterful
admirers ; and she certainly did not faint. It would be nearer
the truth to say that they did. But in any case it may be
amusing to those who are thus amused, and perhaps even
instructive to those who thus need to be instructed, to know
that the earliest work of Jane Austen, here published for the
first time, might be called a satire on the fable of the fainting
lady. " Beware of fainting fits . . . though at times they
may be refreshing and agreable yet beleive me they will in
the end, if too often repeated and at improper seasons, prove
destructive to your Constitution." Such were the words of
the expiring Sophia to the afflicted Laura ; and there are
modern critics capable of adducing them as a proof that all
society was in a swoon in the first decade of the nineteenth
century. But in truth it is the whole point of this little skit
that the swoon of sensibility is not satirised because it was a
fact, even in the sense of a fashion, but satirised solely because
it was a fiction. Laura and Sophia are made ludicrously
unlike life by being made to faint as real ladies do not faint.
Those ingenious moderns, who say that the real ladies did
faint, are actually being taken in by Laura and Sophia, and
believing them against Jane Austen. They are believing, not
b ix

PREFACE

the people of the period but the most nonsensical novels of
the period, which even the people of the period who read
them did not believe. They have swallowed all the solemnities
of the Mysteries of Udolpho, and never even seen the joke
of Northanger Abbey.

For if these juvenilia of Jane Austen anticipate especially
any of her after works, they certainly anticipate the satiric
side of Northanger Abbey. Of their considerable significance
on that side something may be said presently ; but it will be
well to preface it by a word about the works themselves as
items of literary history. Everyone knows that the novelist
left an unfinished fragment, since published under the name
of" The Watsons," and a finished story called " Lady Susan,"
in letters, which she had herself apparently decided not to
publish. These preferences are all prejudices, in the sense of
matters of unmanageable taste ; but I confess I think it a
strange historical accident that things so comparatively dull
as " Lady Susan " should have been printed already, while
things so comparatively lively as " Love and Freindship "
should never have been printed until now. It is at least a
curiosity of literature that such curiosities of literature should
have been almost accidentally concealed. Doubtless it was
very rightly felt that we may go much too far in the way of
emptying the waste-paper basket of a genius on the head of
the public ; and that there is a sense in which the waste-paper
basket is as sacred as the grave. But without arrogating to
myself any more right in the matter than anybody has to his
own taste, I hope I may be allowed to say that I for one would
have willingly left " Lady Susan " in the waste-paper basket,
if I could have pieced together " Love and Freindship " for
a private scrap-book ; a thing to laugh over again and again
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as one laughs over the great burlesques of Peacock or Max
Beerbohm.

Jane Austen left everything she possessed to her sister
Cassandra, including these and other manuscripts ; and the
second volume of them, containing these, was left by Cass-
andra to her brother, Admiral Sir Francis Austen. He gave
it to his daughter Fanny, who left it in turn to her brother
Edward, who was the Rector of Barfrestone in Kent, and
the father of Mrs. Sanders, to whose wise decision we owe
the publication of these first fancies of her great-aunt ; whom
it might be misleading here to call her great great-aunt.
Everyone will judge for himself; but I myself think she has
added something intrinsically important to literature and
to literary history ; and that there are cartloads of printed
matter, regularly recognised and printed with the works of
all great authors, which are far less characteristic and far
less significant than these few nursery jests.

For " Love and Freindship," with some similar passages
in the accompanying fragments, is really a rattling burlesque ;
something much better than what the ladies of the time called
an agreeable rattle. It is one of those things that can be the
more readily read with enjoyment through being written
with enjoyment ; in other words, it is all the better for being
juvenile in the sense of being joyful. She is said to have written
these things at the age of seventeen, evidently in much the
same spirit in which people conduct a family magazine ; for
the medallions included in the manuscript were the work
of her sister Cassandra. The whole thing is full of the sort of
high spirits that are always higher in private than in public ;
as people laugh louder in the house than in the street. Many
of her admirers would not expect, perhaps many of her

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admirers would not admire, the sort of fun to be found in
the letter of the young lady " whose feelings were too strong
for her judgment," and who remarks incidentally " I mur-
dered my father at a very early period of my life, I have since
murdered my mother, and I am now going to murder my
sister." Personally I think it admirable ; not the conduct,
but the confession. But there is much more than hilarity in
the humour, even at this stage of its growth. There is almost
everywhere a certain neatness in the nonsense. There is not
a little of the true Austen irony. " The noble Youth informed
us that his name was Lindsay — for particular reasons, how-
ever, I shall conceal it under that of Talbot." Did anyone
really desire that to disappear into the waste-paper basket ?
" She was nothing more than a mere good-tempered, civil
and obliging young woman ; as such we could scarcely dis-
like her — she was only an object of contempt." Is not that
something like the first faint line in the figure of Fanny Price ?
When a loud knocking is heard on the door of the Rustic Cot
by the Uske, the heroine's father enquires the nature of the
noise, and by cautious steps of inference they are enabled to
define it as somebody outside striking the door. " ' Yes
(exclaimed I) I cannot help thinking it must be somebody
who knocks for admittance.' " " That is another point, (re-
plied he) we must not pretend to determine on what motive
the person may knock — tho' that some one does rap at the
door I am partly convinced." In the aggravating leisure and
lucidity of that reply, is there not the foreshadowing of another
and more famous father ; and do we not hear for a moment,
in the rustic cottage by the Uske, the unmistakable voice of
Mr. Bennet ?

But there is a larger critical reason for taking pleasure in
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PREFACE

the gaiety of these various travesties and trifles. Mr. Austen-
I Leigh seems to have thought them not sufficiently serious
for the reputation of his great relative ; but greatness is not
made up of serious things, in the sense of solemn things. The
reason here, however, is as serious as even he or anyone else
could desire ; for it concerns the fundamental quality of one
of the finest talents in letters.

A very real psychological interest, almost amounting to a
psychological mystery, attaches to any early work of Jane
Austen. And for that one reason, among others, which has
hardly been sufficiently emphasised. Great as she was, nobody
was likely to maintain that she was a poet. But she was a
marked example of what is said of the poet ; she was born,
not made. As compared with her, indeed, some of the poets
really were made. Many men who had the air of setting the
world on fire have left at least a reasonable discussion about
what set them on fire. Men like Coleridge or Carlyle had
certainly kindled their first torches from the flambeaux of
equally fantastic German mystics or Platonic speculators;
they had gone through furnaces of culture where even less
creative people might have been inflamed to creation. Jane
Austen was not inflamed or inspired or even moved to be a
genius ; she simply was a genius. Her fire, what there was of
it, began with herself; like the fire of the first man who rubbed
two dry sticks together. Some would say that they were very
dry sticks which she rubbed together. It is certain that she
by her own artistic talent made interesting what thousands
of superficially similar people would have made dull. There
was nothing in her circumstances, or even in her materials,
that seems obviously meant for the making of such an artist.
It might seem a very wild use of the wrong word to say that

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Jane Austen was elemental. It might even seem even a little
wanton to insist that she was original. Yet this objection
would come from the critic not really considering what is
meant by an element or an origin. Perhaps it might be as well
expressed in what is really meant by an individual. Her ability
is an absolute ; it cannot be analysed into influences. She has
been compared to Shakespeare ; and in this sense she really
does recall the joke about the man who said he could write
like Shakespeare if he had the mind. In this case we seem to
see a thousand spinsters sitting at a thousand tea-tables ; and
they could all have written "Emma" if they had had the mind.
t There is therefore, in considering even her crudest early
experiments, the interest of looking at a mind and not at a
mirror. She may not be conscious of being herself; but she
is not, like so many more cultivated imitators, conscious of
being somebody else. The force, at its first and feeblest, is
coming from within and not merely from without. This
interest, which belongs to her as an individual with a superior
instinct for the intelligent criticism of life, is the first of the
reasons that justify a study of her juvenile works ; it is an
interest in the psychology of the artistic vocation. I will not
say of the artistic temperament ; for nobody ever had less
of the tiresome thing commonly so described than Jane Austen.
But while this alone would be a reason for finding out how
her work began, it becomes yet more relevant when we have
found out how it did begin. This is something more than the
discovery of a document; it is the discovery of an inspiration.
And that inspiration was the inspiration of Gargantua and
of Pickwick ; it was the gigantic inspiration of laughter.

If it seemed odd to call her elemental, it may seem equally
odd to call her exuberant. These pages betray her secret ;
xiv

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which is that she was naturally exuberant. And her power
came, as all power comes, from the control and direction of
exuberance. But there is the presence and pressure of that
vitality behind her thousand trivialities ; she could have
been extravagant if she liked. She was the very reverse of a
starched or a starved spinster ; she could have been a buffoon
like the Wife of Bath if she chose. This is what gives an in-
fallible force to her irony JThis is what gives a stunning weight
to her understatementsJKt the back of this artist also, counted
as passionless, there was passion ; but her original passion
was a sort of joyous scorn and a fighting spirit against all that
she regarded as morbid and lax and poisonously silly. The
weapons she forged were so finely finished that we might
never have known this, but for these glimpses of the crude
furnace from which they came. Finally there are two additional
facts involved which I will leave the modern critics and
correspondents in newspapers to ponder and explain at their
leisure. One is that this realist, in rebuking the romantics, is
very much concerned with rebuking them for the very thing
for which revolutionary sentiment has so much admired
them ; as for their glorification of ingratitude to parents and
their easy assumption that the old are always wrong. " No !
says the noble Youth in " Love and Freindship," " never |
shall it be said that I obliged my father ! " And the other is
that there is not a shadow of indication anywhere that this)
independent intellect and laughing spirit was other than
contented with a narrow domestic routine, in which she;
wrote a story as domestic as a diary in the intervals of pies I
and puddings, without so much as looking out of the window t
to notice the French Revolution.

G. K. CHESTERTON.

LOVE AND FREINDSHIP

To Madame la Comtesse
D E FEVI LL I DE
this Novel is inscribed
by her obliged Humble
Servant The Author.

5 X *

" Deceived in Freindship and Betrayed in Love."

LOVE AND FREINDSHIP

LETTER the FIRST
From ISABEL to LAURA

HOW often, in answer to my repeated intreaties that
you would give my Daughter a regular detail of the
Misfortunes and Adventures of your Life, have you
said " No, my freind never will I comply with your request
till I may be no longer in Danger of again experiencing such
dreadful ones."

Surely that time is now at hand. You are this day 55. If
a woman may ever be said to be in safety from the determined
Perseverance of disagreable Lovers and the cruel Persecutions
of obstinate Fathers, surely it must be at such a time of Life.

Isabel.

LETTER 2nd
LAURA to ISABEL

ALTHO' I cannot agree with you in supposing that
I shall never again be exposed to Misfortunes as
unmerited as those I have already experienced, yet
to avoid the imputation of Obstinacy or ill-nature, I will
gratify the curiosity of your daughter ; and may the fortitude
with which I have suffered the many afflictions of my past
Life, prove to her a useful lesson for the support of those
which may befall her in her own.

Laura.

£ JANE AUSTEN

LETTER 3rd \v^

LAURA to MARIANNE ' \ l

AS the Daughter of my most intimate freind I think
you entitled to that knowledge of my unhappy
story, which your Mother has so often solicited me
to give you.

My Father was a native of Ireland and an inhabitant of
Wales ; my Mother was the natural Daughter of a Scotch
Peer by an italian Opera-girl — I was born in Spain and
received my Education at a Convent in France.

When I had reached my eighteenth Year I was recalled
by my Parents to my paternal roof in Wales. Our mansion
was situated in one of the most romantic parts of the Vale
of Uske. Tho' my Charms are now considerably softened '
and somewhat impaired by the Misfortunes I have under-
gone, I was once beautiful. But lovely as I was the Graces
of my Person were the least of my Perfections. Of every
accomplishment accustomary to my sex, I was Mistress.
When in the Convent, my progress had always exceeded my
instructions, my Acquirements had been wonderfull for my
age, and I had shortly surpassed my Masters.

In my Mind, every Virtue that could adorn it was cen-
tered ; it was the Rendez-vous of every good Quality and
of every noble sentiment.

A sensibility too tremblingly alive to every affliction of
my Freinds, my Acquaintance and particularly to every
affliction of my own, was my only fault, if a fault it could
be called. Alas ! how altered now ! Tho' indeed my own
Misfortunes do not make less impression on me than they
ever did, yet now I never feel for those of an other. My
6

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

accomplishments too, begin to fade — I can neither sing so
well nor Dance so gracefully as I once did — and I have
entirely forgot the Minuet Dela Cour.

I Adeiu.

Laura.

LETTER 4th

LAURA to MARIANNE

OUR neighbourhood was small, for it consisted only of
your Mother. She may probably have already told
you that being left by her Parents in indigent Cir-
cumstances she had retired into Wales on eoconomical
motives. There it was our freindship first commenced.
Isabel was then one and twenty. Tho' pleasing both in her
Person and Manners (between ourselves) she never possessed
the hundredth part of my Beauty or Accomplishments.
Isabel had seen the World. She had passed 2 Years at one
of the first Boarding-schools in London ; had spent a fort-
night in Bath and had supped one night in Southampton.

" Beware my Laura (she would often say) Beware of the
insipid Vanities and idle Dissipations of the Metropolis of
England ; Beware of the unmeaning Luxuries of Bath and
of the stinking fish of Southampton."

" Alas ! (exclaimed I) how am I to avoid those evils I shall
never be exposed to ? What probability is there of my ever
tasting the Dissipations of London, the Luxuries of Bath, or
the stinking Fish of Southampton ? I who am doomed to
waste my Days of Youth and Beauty in an humble Cottage
in the Vale of Uske."

g JANE AUSTEN

Ah ! little did I then think I was ordained so soon to quit
that humble Cottage for the Deceitfull Pleasures of the World.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER 5th

LAURA to MARIANNE

ONE Evening in December as my Father, my Mother
and myself, were arranged in social converse round
our Fireside, we were on a sudden, greatly aston-
ished, by hearing a violent knocking on the outward door of
our rustic Cot.

My Father started — " What noise is that," (said he
" It sounds like a loud rapping at the door " — (replied m
Mother.) "it does indeed." (cried I.) " I am of your opinion;
(said my Father) it certainly does appear to proceed from
some uncommon violence exerted against our unoffending
door." " Yes (exclaimed I) I cannot help thinking it must
be somebody who knocks for admittance."

" That is another point (replied he ;) We must not pretend
to determine on what motive the person may knock — tho'
that someone does rap at the door, I am partly convinced."

Here, a 2 d tremendous rap interrupted my Father in his
speech, and somewhat alarmed my Mother and me.

" Had we not better go and see who it is ? (said she) the
servants are out." " I think we had." (replied I.) " Cer-
tainly, (added my Father) by all means." " Shall we go
now ? " (said my Mother,) " The sooner the better." (an-
swered he.) " Oh ! let no time be lost " (cried I.)
8

J LOVE AND FREINDSHIP ^

A third more violent Rap than ever again assaulted our
ears. " I am certain there is somebody knocking at the Door."
(said my Mother.) " I think there must," (replied my
Father) " I fancy the servants are returned ; (said I) I think
I hear Mary going to the Door." '* I'm glad of it (cried my
Father) for I long to know who it is."

I was right in my conjecture ; for Mary instantly entering
the Room, informed us that a young Gentleman and his
Servant were at the door, who had lossed their way, were
very cold and begged leave to warm themselves by our fire.

" Won't you admit them ? " (said I.) " You have no
objection, my Dear ? " (said my Father.) " None in the
World." (replied my Mother.)

Mary, without waiting for any further commands im-
mediately left the room and quickly returned introducing
the most beauteous and amiable Youth, I had ever beheld.
The servant, she kept to herself.

My natural sensibility had already been greatly affected
by the sufferings of the unfortunate stranger and no sooner
did I first behold him, than I felt that on him the happiness
or Misery of my future Life must depend.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER 6th

LAURA to MARIANNE

HE noble Youth informed us that his name was
Lindsay — for particular reasons however I shall con-
ceal it under that of Talbot. He told us that he was

lie

•

£ JANE AUSTEN

the son of an English Baronet, that his Mother had been
many years no more and that he had a Sister of the middle
size. " My Father (he continued) is a mean and mercena
wretch — it is only to such particular freinds as this Dear Par
that I would thus betray his failings. Your Virtues m
amiable Polydore (addressing himself to my father) yours
Dear Claudia and yours my Charming Laura call on me t
repose in you, my confidence." We bowed. " My Fath
seduced by the false glare of Fortune and the Deluding Pom
of Title, insisted on my giving my hand to Lady Doroth
No never exclaimed I. Lady Dorothea is lovely and En
gaging ; I prefer no woman to her ; but know Sir, that I
scorn to marry her in compliance with your Wishes. No !
Never shall it be said that I obliged my Father."

We all admired the noble Manliness of his reply. H
continued.

" Sir Edward was surprised ; he had perhaps little
pected to meet with so spirited an opposition to his wi
" Where, Edward in the name of wonder (said he) did y
pick up this unmeaning gibberish ? You have been studying
Novels I suspect." I scorned to answer : it would have
been beneath my dignity. I mounted my Horse and followed
by my faithful William set forwards for my Aunts."

" My Father's house is situated in Bedfordshire, my Aunt's
in Middlesex, and tho' I flatter myself with being a tolerable
proficient in Geography, I know not how it happened, but
I found myself entering this beautifull Vale, which I find is
in South Wales, when I had expected to have reached my
Aunts."

" After having wandered some time on the Banks of the
Uske without knowing which way to go, I began to lament
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3 LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

my cruel Destiny in the bitterest and most pathetic Manner.
It was now perfectly dark, not a single star was there to direct
my steps, and I know not what might have befallen me had
1 not at length discerned thro' the solemn Gloom that sur-
rounded me a distant light, which as I approached it, I dis-
covered to be the chearfull Blaze of your fire. Impelled
by the combination of Misfortunes under which I laboured,
namely Fear, Cold and Hunger I hesitated not to ask admit-
tance which at length I have gained ; and now my Adorable
Laura (continued he taking my Hand) when may I hope to
receive that reward of all the painfull sufferings I have under-
gone during the course of my attachment to you, to which I
have ever aspired. Oh ! when will you reward me with
Yourself?"

" This instant, Dear and Amiable Edward." (replied I.).
We were immediately united by my Father, who tho' he had
never taken orders had been bred to the Church.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER 7th

LAURA to MARIANNE

WE remained but a few days after our Marriage, in the
Vale of Uske. After taking an affecting Farewell
of my Father, my Mother and my Isabel, I accom-
panied' Edward to his Aunt's in Middlesex. Philippa
received us both with every expression of affectionate Love.
My arrival was indeed a most agreable surprise to her as she
had not only been totally ignorant of my Marriage with her

^ JANE AUSTEN

Nephew, but had never even had the slightest idea of there
being such a person in the World.

Augusta, the sister of Edward was on a visit to her whei
we arrived. I found her exactly what her Brother hac
described her to be — of the middle size. She received m(
with equal surprise though not with equal Cordiality,
Philippa. There was a disagreable coldness and Forbidding
Reserve in her reception of me which was equally distressinj
and Unexpected. None of that interesting Sensibility or
amiable simpathy in her manners and Address to me whei
we first met which should have distinguished our introduction
to each other. Her Language was neither warm, nor affec-
tionate, her expressions of regard were neither animated nor
cordial ; her arms were not opened to receive me to her Heart
tho' my own were extended to press her to mine.

A short Conversation between Augusta and her Brother,
which I accidentally overheard encreased my dislike to her,
and convinced me that her Heart was no more formed for
the soft ties of Love than for the endearing intercourse
Freindship.

" But do you think that my Father will ever be reconcile
to this imprudent connection ? " (said Augusta.)

" Augusta (replied the noble Youth) I thought you had
better opinion of me, than to imagine I would so abjectly
degrade myself as to consider my Father's Concurrence ii
any of my affairs, either of Consequence or concern to me.
Tell me Augusta tell me with sincerity ; did you ever kno;
me consult his inclinations or follow his Advice in the leas
trifling Particular since the age of fifteen ? "

" Edward (replied she) you are surely too diffident in youi
own praise. Since you were fifteen only ! My Dear Brothel

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

since you were five years old, I entirely acquit you of ever
having willingly contributed to the satisfaction of your Father.
But still I am not without apprehensions of your being shortly
obliged to degrade yourself in your own eyes by seeking a
support for your wife in the Generosity of Sir Edward."

" Never, never Augusta will I so demean myself, (said
Edward). Support ! What support will Laura want
which she can receive from him ? "

" Only those very insignificant ones of Victuals and
Drink." (answered she.)

" Victuals and Drink ! (replied my Husband in a most
nobly contemptuous Manner) and dost thou then imagine
that there is no other support for an exalted mind (such as is
my Laura's) than the mean and indelicate employment of
Eating and Drinking ? "

* None that I know of, so efficacious." (returned Augusta).

" And did you then never feel the pleasing Pangs of Love,
Augusta ? (replied my Edward). Does it appear impossible
to your vile and corrupted Palate, to exist on Love ? Can
you not conceive the Luxury of living in every distress that
Poverty can inflict, with the object of your tenderest affection ? "

" You are too ridiculous (said Augusta) to argue with ;
perhaps however you may in time be convinced that ..."

Here I was prevented from hearing the remainder of her
speech, by the appearance of a very Handsome young Woman,
who was ushured into the Room at the Door of which I had
been listening. On hearing her announced by the Name of
" Lady Dorothea," I instantly quitted my Post and followed
her into the Parlour, for I well remembered that she was the
Lady, proposed as a Wife for my Edward by the Cruel and
Unrelenting Baronet.

£ JANE AUSTEN

Altho' Lady Dorothea's visit was nominally to Philippa
and Augusta, yet I have some reason to imagine that (ac-
quainted with the Marriage and arrival of Edward) to see
me was a principal motive to it.

I soon perceived that tho* Lovely and Elegant in her Person
and tho' Easy and Polite in her Address, she was of that in-
ferior order of Beings with regard to Delicate Feeling, tender
Sentiments, and refined Sensibility, of which Augusta was
one. >-

She staid but Half an hour and neither in the Course of her
Visit, confided to me any of her secret thoughts, nor requested
me to confide in her, any of Mine. You will easily imagine
therefore my Dear Marianne that I could not feel any ardent
affection or very sincere Attachment for Lady Dorothea.

Adeiu

Laura.

"US 'tis "tiS "tiS 'tis 'tis 'tis "tiS 'tis "tiS ~tiS "tiS ~tiS "tiS ~tiS ~tiS ~tiS ~tiS 'tis ~tiS 'tis 'tis 'tis

LETTER 8th

LAURA to MARIANNE, in continuation

LADY DOROTHEA had not left us long before
another visitor as unexpected a one as her Ladyship,
was announced. It was Sir Edward, who informed
by Augusta of her Brother's marriage, came doubtless to
reproach him for having dared to unite himself to me without
his Knowledge. But Edward foreseeing his design, ap-
proached him with heroic fortitude as soon as he entered the
Room, and addressed him in the following Manner.

II Sir Edward, I know the motive of your Journey here —
You come with the base Design of reproaching me for
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J LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

having entered into an indissoluble engagement with my
Laura without your Consent. But Sir, I glory in the Act — .
It is my greatest boast that I have incurred the displeasure of
my Father ! "

So saying, he took my hand and whilst Sir Edward,
Philippa, and Augusta were doubtless reflecting with admira-
tion on his undaunted Bravery, led me from the Parlour to
his Father's Carriage which yet remained at the Door and in
which we were instantly conveyed from the pursuit of Sir
Edward.

The Postilions had at first received orders only to take the
London road ; as soon as we had sufficiently reflected How-
ever, we ordered them to Drive to M . the seat of Edward's

most particular freind, which was but a few miles distant.

At M . we arrived in a few hours ; and on sending in

our names were immediately admitted to Sophia, the Wife
of Edward's freind. After having been deprived during the
course of 3 weeks of a real freind (for such I term your
Mother) imagine my transports at beholding one, most truly
worthy of the Name. Sophia was rather above the middle
size; most elegantly formed. A soft languor spread over
her lovely features, but increased their Beauty — . It was
the Charectarestic of her Mind — . She was all sensibility
and Feeling. We flew into each others arms and after having
exchanged vows of mutual Freindship for the rest of our
Lives, instantly unfolded to each other the most inward secrets
of our Hearts — . We were interrupted in the delightfull
Employment by the entrance of Augustus, (Edward's freind)
who was just returned from a solitary ramble.

Never did I see such an affecting Scene as was the meeting
of Edward and Augustus.

£ JANE AUSTEN

" My Life ! my Soul ! " (exclaimed the former) " M)
adorable angel ! " (replied the latter) as they flew into eacl
other's arms. It was too pathetic for the feelings of Sopl
and myself — We fainted alternately on a sofa.

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER the 9th

From the same to the same

TOWARDS the close of the day we received the fol-
lowing Letter from Philippa.

" Sir Edward is greatly incensed by your abrupt
departure ; he has taken back Augusta with him to Bedford-
shire. Much as I wish to enjoy again your charming society,
I cannot determine to snatch you from that, of such dear and
deserving Freinds — When your Visit to them is termi-
nated, I trust you will return to the arms of your "

" Philippa."

We returned a suitable answer to this affectionate Note
and after thanking her for her kind invitation assured her that
we would certainly avail ourselves of it, whenever we might
have no other place to go to. Tho' certainly nothing could
to any reasonable Being, have appeared more satisfactory,
than so gratefull a reply to her invitation, yet I know not how
it was, but she was certainly capricious enough to be dis-
pleased with our behaviour and in a few weeks after, either
to revenge our Conduct, or releive her own solitude, married
a young and illiterate Fortune-hunter. This imprudent
16

^ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

step (tho* we were sensible that it would probably deprive
us of that fortune which Philippa had ever taught us to ex-
pect) could not on our own accounts, excite from our exalted
minds a single sigh ; yet fearfull lest it might prove a source
of endless misery to the deluded Bride, our trembling Sensi-
bility was greatly affected when we were first informed of the
Event. The affectionate Entreaties of Augustus and Sophia
that we would for ever consider their House as our Home,
easily prevailed on us to determine never more to leave them.
In the society of my Edward and this Amiable Pair, I passed
the happiest moments of my Life ; Our time was most delight-
fully spent, in mutual Protestations of Freindship, and in
vows of unalterable Love, in which we were secure from
being interrupted, by intruding and disagreable Visitors, as
Augustus and Sophia had on their first Entrance in the Neigh-
bourhood, taken due care to inform the surrounding Families,
that as their Happiness centered wholly in themselves, they
wished for no other society. But alas ! my Dear Marianne
such Happiness as I then enjoyed was too perfect to be last-
ing. A most severe and unexpected Blow at once destroyed
every sensation of Pleasure. Convinced as you must be from
what I have already told you concerning Augustus and Sophia,
that there never were a happier Couple, I need not I imagine,
inform you that their union had been contrary to the inclina-
tions of their Cruel and Mercenery Parents ; who had vainly
endeavoured with obstinate Perseverance to force them into
a Marriage with those whom they had ever abhorred ; but
with an Heroic Fortitude worthy to be related and admired,
they had both, constantly refused to submit to such despotic
Power.

After having so nobly disentangled themselves from the

E 17

£ JANE AUSTEN

shackles of Parental Authority, by a Clandestine Marriage,
they were determined never to forfeit the good opinion they
had gained in the World, in so doing, by accepting any pro-
posals of reconciliation that might be offered them by their
Fathers — to this farther tryal of their noble independance
however they never were exposed.

They had been married but a few months when our visit
to them commenced during which time they had been amply
supported by a considerable sum of money which Augustus
had gracefully purloined from his unworthy father's Escri-
toire, a few days before his union with Sophia.

By our arrival their Expenses were considerably encreased
tho* their means for supplying them were then nearly ex-
hausted. But they, Exalted Creatures ! scorned to reflect a
moment on their pecuniary Distresses and would have blushed
at the idea of paying their Debts. — Alas ! what was their
Reward for such disinterested Behaviour ! The beautifull
Augustus was arrested and we were all undone. Such per-
fidious Treachery in the merciless perpetrators of the Deed
will shock your gentle nature Dearest Marianne as much as it
then affected the Delicate sensibility of Edward, Sophia, your
Laura, and of Augustus himself. To compleat such un-
paralelled Barbarity we were informed that an Execution in
the Hou?e would shortly take place. Ah ! what could we
do but what we did ! We sighed and fainted on the sofa.

Adeiu

Laura.

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

LETTER ioth
LAURA in continuation

WHEN we were somewhat recovered from the over-
powering Effusions of our grief, Edward desired
that we would consider what was the most prudent
step to be taken in our unhappy situation while he repaired
to his imprisoned freind to lament over his misfortunes. We
promised that we would, and he set forwards on his journey
to Town. During his absence we faithfully complied with
his Desire and after the most mature Deliberation, at length
agreed that the best thing we could do was to leave the House ;
of which we every moment expected the officers of Justice to
take possession. We waited therefore with the greatest
impatience, for the return of Edward in order to impart to
him the result of our Deliberations. But no Edward ap-
peared. In vain did we count the tedious moments of his
absence — in vain did we weep — in vain even did we sigh —
no Edward returned — . This was too cruel, too un-
expected a Blow to our Gentle Sensibility — we could not
support it — we could only faint. At length collecting all
the Resolution I was Mistress of, I arose and after packing
up some necessary apparel for Sophia and myself, I dragged
her to a Carriage I had ordered and we instantly set out for
London. As the Habitation of Augustus was within twelve
miles of Town, it was not long e'er we arrived there, and no
sooner had we entered Holboun than letting down one of
the Front Glasses I enquired of every decent-looking Person
that we passed " If they had seen my Edward ? "

But as we drove too rapidly to allow them to answer my
repeated Enquiries, I gained little, or indeed, no information

£ JANE AUSTEN

concerning him. " Where am I to Drive ? " said the
Postilion. " To Newgate Gentle Youth (replied I), to see
Augustus." " Oh ! no, no, (exclaimed Sophia) I cannot go
to Newgate ; I shall not be able to support the sight of my
Augustus in so cruel a confinement — my feelings are suffi-
ciently shocked by the recital, of his Distress, but to behold
it will overpower my Sensibility." As I perfectly agreed
with her in the Justice of her Sentiments the Postilion was
instantly directed to return into the Country. You may
perhaps have been somewhat surprised my Dearest Marianne,
that in the Distness I then endured, destitute of any support,
and unprovided with any Habitation, I should never once
have remembered my Father and Mother or my paternal
Cottage in the^Vale of Uske. To account for the seeming
forgetfullness I must inform you of a trifling circumstance
concerning them which I have as yet never mentioned. The
death of my Parents a few weeks after my Departure, is the
circumstance I allude to. By their decease I became the
lawfull Inheritress of their House and Fortune. But alas !
the House had never been their own and their Fortune had
only been an Annuity on their own Lives. Such is the
Depravity of the World ! To your Mother I should have
returned with Pleasure, should have been happy to have
introduced to her, my charming Sophia and should with
Chearfullness have passed the remainder of my Life in their
dear Society in the Vale of Uske, had not one obstacle to the
execution of so agreable a scheme, intervened ; which was
the Marriage and Removal of your Mother to a distant part
of Ireland.

Adeiu.

Laura.

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

LETTER nth
LAURA in continuation

" Y HAVE a Relation in Scotland (said Sophia to mc as we
I left London) who I am certain would not hesitate
in receiving me." " Shall I order the Boy to drive
there ? " said I — but instantly recollecting myself, exclaimed,
14 Alas I fear it will be too long a Journey for the Horses."
Unwilling however to act only from my own inadequate
Knowledge of the Strength and Abilities of Horses, I con-
sulted the Postilion, who was entirely of my Opinion con-
cerning the Affair. We therefore determined to change
Horses at the next Town and to travel Post the remainder
of the Journey — . When we arrived at the last Inn we
were to stop at, which was but a few miles from the House
of Sophia's Relation, unwilling to intrude our Society on him
unexpected and unthought of, we wrote a very elegant and
well penned Note to him containing an account of our
Destitute and melancholy Situation, and of our intention to
spend some months with him in Scotland. As soon as we
had dispatched this Letter, we immediately prepared to follow
it in person and were stepping into the Carriage for that Pur-
pose when our attention was attracted by the Entrance of a
coroneted Coach and 4 into the Inn-yard. A Gentleman
considerably advanced in years, descended from it. At his
first Appearance my Sensibility was wonderfully affected
and e'er I had gazed at him a 2 d time, an instinctive sym-
pathy whispered to my Heart, that he was my Grandfather.
Convinced that I could not be mistaken in my conjecture I
instantly sprang from the Carriage I had just entered, and
following the Venerable Stranger into the Room he had been

JANE AUSTEN

shewn to, I threw myself on my knees before him and besoug!
him to acknowledge me as his Grand Child. He started,
and after having attentively examined my features, raised me
from the Ground and throwing his Grand-fatherly arms
around my Neck, exclaimed, " Acknowledge thee ! Yes dear
resemblance of my Laurina and Laurina's Daughter, sweet
image of my Claudia and my Claudia's Mother, I do acknow-
ledge thee as the Daughter of the one and the Grandaughter
of the other." While he was thus tenderly embracing me,
Sophia astonished at my precipitate Departure, entered the
Room in search of me. No sooner had she caught the eye
of the venerable Peer, than he exclaimed with every mark
of astonishment — " Another Grandaughter ! Yes, yes, I
see you are the Daughter of my Laurina's eldest Girl ; Your
resemblance to the beauteous Matilda sufficiently proclaims
it. " Oh ! replied Sophia, when I first beheld you the in-
stinct of Nature whispered me that we were in some degree
related — But whether Grandfathers, or Grandmothers,
I could not pretend to determine." He folded her in his
arms, and whilst they were tenderly embracing, the Door of
the Apartment opened and a most beautifull young Man
appeared. On perceiving him Lord St. Clair started and
retreating back a few paces, with uplifted Hands, said,
" Another Grand-child ! What an unexpected Happiness
is this ! to discover in the space of 3 minutes, as many of my
Descendants ! This, I am certain is Philander the son of
my Laurina's 3 d girl the amiable Bertha ; there wants now
but the presence of Gustavus to compleat the Union of my
Laurina's Grand-Children."

' * And here he is ; (said a Gracefull Youth who that in-
stant entered the room) here is the Gustavus you desire to

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

see. I am the son of Agatha your Lamina's 4th and youngest
Daughter." " I see you are indeed ; replied Lord St. Clair
— But tell me (continued he looking fearfully towards
the Door) tell me, have I any other Grand-children in the
House." " None my Lord." " Then I will provide for
you all without farther delay — Here are 4 Banknotes of
50j£ each — Take them and remember I have done the
Duty of a Grandfather." He instantly left the Room and
immediately afterwards the House.

Adeiu.

Laura.

LETTER the 12th
LAURA in continuation

YOU may imagine how greatly we were surprised by
the sudden departure of Lord St Clair. " Ignoble
Grand-sire ! " exclaimed Sophia. " Unworthy Grand-
father ! " said I, and instantly fainted in each other's
arms. How long we remained in this situation I know not ;
but when we recovered we found ourselves alone, without
either Gustavus, Philander, or the Banknotes. As we were
deploring our unhappy fate, the Door of the Apartment
opened and " Macdonald " was announced. He was Sophia's
cousin. The haste with which he came to our releif so soon
after the receipt of our Note, spoke so greatly in his favour
that I hesitated not to pronounce him at first sight, a tender
and simpathetic Freind. Alas ! he little deserved the name
— for though he told us that he was much concerned at
our Misfortunes, yet by his own account it appeared that the

jl JANE AUSTEN

perusal of them, had neither drawn from him a single sig]
nor induced him to bestow one curse on our vindictive
stars — . He told Sophia that his Daughter depended 01
her returning with him to Macdonald-Hall, and that
his Cousin's freind he should be happy to see me there also.
To Macdonald-Hall, therefore we went, and were receivec
with great kindness by Janetta the Daughter of Macdonalc
and the Mistress of the Mansion. Janetta was then onlj
fifteen ; naturally well disposed, endowed with a susceptibh
Heart, and a simpathetic Disposition, she might, had thes
amiable qualities been properly encouraged, have been ai
ornament to human Nature ; but unfortunately her Father
possessed not a soul sufficiently exalted to admire so promising
a Disposition, and had endeavoured by every means in his
power to prevent its encreasing with her Years. He had
actually so far extinguished the natural noble Sensibility of
her Heart, as to prevail on her to accept an offer from a young
Man of his Recommendation. They were to be married in
a few months, and Graham, was in the House when we
arrived. We soon saw through his character. He was just
such a Man as one might have expected to be the choice of
Macdonald. They said he was Sensible, well-informed,
and Agreable ; we did not pretend to Judge of such trifles,
but as we were convinced he had no soul, that he had never
read the sorrows of Werter, and that his Hair bore not the
least resemblance to auburn, we were certain that Janetta
could feel no affection for him, or at least that she ought to
feel none. The very circumstance of his being her father's
choice too, was so much in his disfavour, that had he been
deserving her, in every other respect yet that of itself ought
to have been a sufficient reason in the Eyes of Janetta for

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

rejecting him. These considerations we were determined
to represent to her in their proper light and doubted not of
meeting with the desired success from one naturally so well
disposed ; whose errors in the affair had only arisen from a
want of proper confidence in her own opinion, and a suitable
contempt of her father's. We found her indeed all that our
warmest wishes could have hoped for ; we had no difficulty
to convince her that it was impossible she could love Graham,
or that it was her Duty to disobey her Father ; the only thing
at which she rather seemed to hesitate was our assertion that
she must be attached to some other Person. For some time,
she persevered in declaring that she knew no other young man
for whom she had the smallest Affection ; but upon explain-
ing the impossibility of such a thing she said that she beleived
she did like Captain M'Kenrie better than any one she knew
besides. This confession satisfied us and after having enu-
merated the good Qualities of M'Kenrie and assured her
that she was violently in love with him, we desired to know
whether he had ever in any wise declared his affection to her.
" So far from having ever declared it, I have no reason to
imagine that he has ever felt any for me." said Janetta.
" That he certainly adores you (replied Sophia) there can
be no doubt — . The Attachment must be reciprocal. Did
he never gaze on you with admiration — tenderly press
your hand — drop an involantary tear — and leave the room
abruptly ? " " Never (replied she) that I remember — he has
always left the room indeed when his visit has been ended,
but has never gone away particularly abruptly or without
making a bow." Indeed my Love (said I) you must be mis-
taken — for it is absolutely impossible that he should ever have
left you but with Confusion, Despair, and Precipitation.

F 25

£ JANE AUSTEN £

Consider but for a moment Janetta, and you must be con-
vinced how absurd it is to suppose that he could ever make a
Bow, or behave like any other Person." Having settled this
Point to our satisfaction, the next we took into consideration
was, to determine in what manner we should inform M'Kenrie
of the favourable Opinion Janetta entertained of him. . . .
We at length agreed to acquaint him with it by an anony-
mous Letter which Sophia drew up in the following manner.

" Oh ! happy Lover of the beautifull Janetta, oh ! amiable
Possessor of her Heart whose hand is destined to another,
why do you thus delay a confession of your attachment to the
amiable Object of it ? Oh ! consider that a few weeks will
at once put an end to every flattering Hope that you may now
entertain, by uniting the unfortunate Victim of her father's
Cruelty to the execrable and detested Graham."

" Alas ! why do you thus so cruelly connive at the pro-
jected Misery of her and of yourself by delaying to communicate
that scheme which had doubtless long possessed your imagina-
tion ? A secret Union will at once secure the felicity of both."

The amiable M'Kenrie, whose modesty as he afterwards
assured us had been the only reason of his having so long
concealed the violence of his affection for Janetta, on receiv-
ing this Billet flew on the wings of Love to Macdonald-Hall,
and so powerfully pleaded his Attachment to her who inspired
it, that after a few more private interveiws, Sophia and I ex-
perienced the satisfaction of seeing them depart for Gretna-
Green, which they chose for the celebration of their Nuptials,
in preference to any other place although it was at a consider-
able distance from Macdonald-Hall.

Adeiu

Laura.
26

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

LETTER the 13th
LAURA in continuation

THEY had been gone nearly a couple of Hours, before
either Macdonald or Graham had entertained any
suspicion of the affair. And they might not even
then have suspected it, but for the following little Accident.
Sophia happening one day to open a private Drawer in
Macdonald's Library with one of her own keys, discovered
that it was the Place where he kept his Papers of consequence
and amongst them some bank notes of considerable amount.
This discovery she imparted to me ; and having agreed to-
gether that it would be a proper treatment of so vile a Wretch
as Macdonald to deprive him of money, perhaps dishonestly
gained, it was determined that the next time we should either
of us happen to go that way, we would take one or more of
the Bank notes from the drawer. This well meant Plan we
had often successfully put in Execution ; but alas ! on the
very day of Janetta's Escape, as Sophia was majestically re-
moving the 5th Bank-note from the Drawer to her own purse,
she was suddenly most impertinently interrupted in her
employment by the entrance of Macdonald himself, in a most
abrupt and precipitate Manner. Sophia (who though natur-
ally all winning sweetness could when occasions demanded
it call forth the Dignity of her sex) instantly put on a most
forbiding look, and darting an angry frown on the undaunted
culprit, demanded in a haughty tone of voice " Wherefore
her retirement was thus insolently broken in on ? " The
unblushing Macdonald, without even endeavouring to ex-
culpate himself from the crime he was charged with, meanly
endeavoured to reproach Sophia with ignobly defrauding

£ JANE AUSTEN

him of his money . . . The dignity of Sophia was wounded ;
" Wretch (exclaimed she, hastily replacing the Bank-note in
the Drawer) how darest thou to accuse me of an Act, of which
the bare idea makes me blush ? " The base wretch was still
unconvinced and continued to upbraid the justly-offended
Sophia in such opprobious Language, that at length he so
greatly provoked the gentle sweetness of her Nature, as to
induce her to revenge herself on him by informing him of
Janetta's Elopement, and of the active Part we had both taken
in the affair. At this period of their Quarrel I entered the
Library and was as you may imagine equally offended as
Sophia at the ill-grounded accusations of the malevolent and
contemptible Macdonald. " Base Miscreant ! (cried I) how
canst thou thus undauntedly endeavour to sully the spotless
reputation of such bright Excellence ? Why dost thou not
suspect my innocence as soon ? " " Be satisfied Madam
(replied he) I do suspect* it, and therefore must desire that
you will both leave this House in less than half an hour."

" We shall go willingly ; (answered Sophia) our hearts
have long detested thee, and nothing but our freindship for
thy Daughter could have induced us to remain so long be-
neath thy roof."

M Your Freindship for my Daughter has indeed been most
powerfully exerted by throwing her into the arms of an un-
principled Fortune-hunter." (replied he)

" Yes, (exclaimed I) amidst every misfortune, it will afford
us some consolation to reflect that by this one act of Freind-
ship to Janetta, we have amply discharged every obligation
that we have received from her father."

" It must indeed be a most gratefull reflection, to your
exalted minds." (said he.)
28

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £ j/

As soon as we had packed up our wardrobe and valuables,
we left Macdonald Hall, and after having walked about a
mile and a half we sate down by the side of a clear limpid
stream to refresh our exhausted limbs. The place was suited
to meditation. A grove of full-grown Elms sheltered us from
the East — . A Bed of full-grown Nettles from the West — .
Before us ran the murmuring brook and behind us ran the
turn-pike road. We were in a mood for contemplation and
in a Disposition to enjoy so beautifull a spot. A mutual
silence which had for some time reigned between us, was at
length broke by my exclaiming — " What a lovely scene |
Alas why are not Edward and Augustus here to enjoy its
Beauties with us ? "

" Ah ! my beloved Laura (cried Sophia) for pity's sake
forbear recalling to my remembrance the unhappy situation
of my imprisoned Husband. Alas, what would I not give
to learn the fate of my Augustus ! to know if he is still in
Newgate, or if he is yet hung. But never shall I be able so
far to conquer my tender sensibility as to enquire after him.
Oh ! do not I beseech you ever let me again hear you repeat
his beloved name — . It affects me too deeply — . I cannot
bear to hear him mentioned it wounds my feelings."

" Excuse me my Sophia for having thus unwillingly
offended you — " replied I — and then changing the con-
versation, desired her to admire the noble Grandeur of the
Elms which sheltered us from the Eastern Zephyr. " Alas !
my Laura (returned she) avoid so melancholy a subject, I
intreat you. Do not again wound my Sensibility by observa-
tions on those elms. They remind me of Augustus. He was
like them, tall, magestic — he possessed that noble grandeur
which you admire in them."

£ JANE AUSTEN

I was silent, fearfull lest I might any more unwillingly
distress her by fixing on any other subject of conversation
which might again remind her of Augustus.

" Why do you not speak my Laura ? (said she after a short
pause) " I cannot support this silence you must not leave me
to my own reflections ; they ever recur to Augustus."

" What a beautifull sky ! (said I) How charmingly is the
azure varied by those delicate streaks of white ! "

" Oh ! my Laura (replied she hastily withdrawing her
Eyes from a momentary glance at the sky) do not thus distress
me by calling my Attention to an object which so cruelly
reminds me of my Augustus's blue sattin waistcoat striped
with white ! In pity to your unhappy freind avoid a subject
so distressing." What could I do ? The feelings of Sophia
were at that time so exquisite, and the tenderness she felt for
Augustus so poignant that I had not power to start any other
topic, justly fearing that it might in some unforseen manner
again awaken all her sensibility by directing her thoughts to
her Husband. Yet to be silent would be cruel ; she had
intreated me to talk.

From this Dilemma I was most fortunately releived by an
accident truly apropos ; it was the lucky overturning of a
Gentleman's Phaeton, on the road which ran murmuring
behind us. It was a most fortunate accident as it diverted
the attention of Sophia from the melancholy reflections which
she had been before indulging. We instantly quitted our
seats and ran^to the rescue of those who but a few moments
before had been in so elevated a situation as a fashionably high
Phaeton, but who were now laid low and sprawling in the
Dust. " What an ample subject for reflection on the un-
certain Enjoyments of this World, would not that Phaeton
30

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

and the Life of Cardinal Wolsey afford a thinking Mind ! "
said I to Sophia as we were hastening to the field of Action.

She had not time to answer me, for every thought was now
engaged by the horrid spectacle before us. Two Gentlemen
most elegantly attired but weltering in their blood was what
first struck our Eyes — we approached — they were Edward
and Augustus — . Yes dearest Marianne they were our
Husbands. Sophia shreiked and fainted on the ground — I
screamed and instantly ran mad — . We remained thus
mutually deprived of our senses, some minutes, and on regain-
ing them were deprived of them again. For an Hour and a
Quarter did we continue in this unfortunate situation —
Sophia fainting every moment and I running mad as often.
At length a groan from the hapless Edward (who alone re-
tained any share of life) restored us to ourselves. Had we
indeed before imagined that either of them lived, we should
have been more sparing of our Greif — but as we had sup-
posed when we first beheld them that they were no more, we
knew that nothing could remain to be done but what we were
about. No sooner therefore did we hear my Edward's groan
than postponing our lamentations for the present, we hastily
ran to the Dear Youth and kneeling on each side of him
implored him not to die — . " Laura (said He fixing his
now languid Eyes on me) I fear I have been overturned."

I was overjoyed to find him yet sensible.

" Oh ! tell me Edward (said I) tell me I beseech you before
you die, what has befallen you since that unhappy Day in
which Augustus was arrested and we were separated — "

" I will " (said he) and instantly fetching a deep sigh,
Expired — . Sophia immediately sunk again into a swoon — .
My greif was more audible. My Voice faltered, My Eyes

^ JANE AUSTEN

assumed a vacant stare, my face became as pale as Death,
and my senses were considerably impaired — .

" Talk not to me of Phaetons (said I, raving in a frantic,
incoherent manner) — Give me a violin — . I'll play to him
and sooth him in his melancholy Hours — Beware ye gentle
Nymphs of Cupid's Thunderbolts, avoid the piercing shafts
of Jupiter — Look at that grove of Firs — I see a Leg of Mutton
— They told me Edward was not Dead ; but they deceived
me — they took him for a cucumber — " Thus I continued
wildly exclaiming on my Edward's Death — . For two Hours
did I rave thus madly and should not then have left off, as I
was not in the least fatigued, had not Sophia who was just
recovered from her swoon, intreated me to consider that
Night was now approaching and that the Damps began to
fall. " And whither shall we go (said I) to shelter us from
either." ? " To that white Cottage." (replied she pointing to
a neat Building which rose up amidst the grove of Elms and
which I had not before observed — ) I agreed and we in-
stantly walked to it — we knocked at the door — it was opened
by an old woman ; on being requested to afford us a Night's
Lodging, she informed us that her House was but small, that
she had only two Bedrooms, but that However we should be
wellcome to one of them. We were satisfied and followed
the good woman into the House where we were greatly
cheered by the sight of a comfortable fire — . She was a
Widow and had only one Daughter, who was then just seven-
teen — One of the best of ages ; but alas ! she was very

plain and her name was Bridget Nothing therfore

could be expected from her — she could not be supposed to
possess either exalted Ideas, Delicate Feelings or refined
Sensibilities — . She was nothing more than a mere
32

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

good-tempered, civil and obliging young woman ; as such
we could scarcely dislike here — she was only an Object of
Contempt — .

Adeiu

Laura.

LETTER the 14th
LAURA in continuation

ARM yourself my amiable young Freind with all the
philosophy you are Mistress of; summon up all the
fortitude you possess, for alas ! in the perusal of the
following Pages your sensibility will be most severely tried.
Ah ! what were the misfortunes I had before experienced
and which I have already related to you, to the one I am now
going to inform you of. The Death of my Father my Mother,
and my Husband though almost more than my gentle Nature
could support, were trifles in comparison to the misfortune I
am now proceeding to relate. The morning after 6ur arrival
at the Cottage, Sophia complained of a violent pain in her
delicate limbs, accompanied with a disagreable Head-ake.
She attributed it to a cold caught by her continued faintings
in the open air as the Dew was falling the Evening before.
This I feared was but too probably the case ; since how could
it be otherwise accounted for that I should have escaped the
same indisposition, but by supposing that the bodily Exertions
I had undergone in my repeated fits of frenzy had so effectually
circulated and warmed my Blood as to make me proof against
the chilling Damps of Night, whereas, Sophia lying totally
inactive on the ground must have been exposed to all their
g 33

£ JANE AUSTEN

severity. I was most seriously alarmed by her illness which
trifling as it may appear to you, a certain instinctive sensibility
whispered me, would in the End be fatal to her.

Alas ! my fears were but too fully justified ; she grew
gradually worse — and I daily became more alarmed for her.
At length she was obliged to confine herself solely to the Bed
allotted us by our worthy Landlady — . Her disorder turned
to a galloping Consumption and in a few days carried her
off. Amidst all my Lamentations for her (and violent you
may suppose they were) I yet received some consolation in
the reflection of my having paid every attention to her, that
could be offered, in her illness. I had wept over her every
Day — had bathed her sweet face with my tears and had pressed
her fair Hands continually in mine — . " My beloved Laura
(said she to me a few Hours before she died) take warning
from my unhappy End and avoid the imprudent conduct
which had occasioned it. . . Beware of fainting-fits. . .
Though at the time they may be refreshing and agreable yet
beleive me they will in the end, if too often repeated and at
improper seasons, prove destructive to your Constitution. . .
My fate will teach you this. . I die a Martyr to my greif
for the loss of Augustus. . One fatal swoon has cost me my
Life. . Beware of swoons Dear Laura. ... A frenzy fit
is not one quarter so pernicious ; it is an exercise to the Body
and if not too violent, is I dare say conducive to Health in its

consequences Run mad as often as you chuse ; but do

not faint — "

These were the last words she ever addressed to me. . It
was her dieing Advice to her afflicted Laura, who has ever
most faithfully adhered to it.

After having attended my lamented freind to her Early
34

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP {

Grave, I immediately (tho* late at night) left the detested
Village in which she died, and near which had expired my
Husband and Augustus. I had not walked many yards from
it before I was overtaken by a stage-coach, in which I instantly
took a place, determined to proceed in it to Edinburgh, where
I hoped to find some kind some pitying Freind who would
receive and comfort me in my afflictions.

It was so dark when I entered the Coach that I could not
distinguish the Number of my Fellow-travellers ; I could
only perceive that they were many. Regardless however of
anything concerning them, I gave myself up to my own sad
Reflections. A general silence prevailed — A silence, which
was by nothing interrupted but by the loud and repeated
snores of one of the Party.

" What an illiterate villain must that man be ! (thought I
to myself) What a total want of delicate refinement must
he have, who can thus shock our senses by such a brutal noise !
He must I am certain be capable of every bad action ! There
is no crime too black for such a Character ! " Thus reasoned
I within myself, and doubtless such were the reflections of
my fellow travellers.

At length, returning Day enabled me to behold the un-
principled Scoundrel who had so violently disturbed my
feelings. It was Sir Edward the father of my Deceased
Husband. By his side, sate Augusta, and on the same seat
with me were your Mother and Lady Dorothea. Imagine
my surprise at finding myself thus seated amongst my old
Acquaintance. Great as was my astonishment, it was yet
increased, when on looking out of Windows, I beheld the
Husband of Philippa, with Philippa by his side, on the Coach-
box and when on looking behind I beheld, Philander and

jg JANE AUSTEN £

Gustavus in the Basket. " Oh I Heavens, (exclaimed I) is
it possible that I should so unexpectedly be surrounded by
my nearest Relations and Connections " ? These words
roused the rest of the Party, and every eye was directed to
the corner in which I sat. " Oh ! my Isabel (continued I
throwing myself across Lady Dorothea into her arms) receive
once more to your Bosom the unfortunate Laura. Alas !
when we last parted in the Vale of Usk, I was happy in being
united to the best of Edwards ; I had then a Father and a
Mother, and had never known misfortunes — But now
deprived of every freind but you "

" What ! (interrupted Augusta) is my Brother dead then ?
Tell us I intreat you what is become of him ? " " Yes, cold
and insensible Nymph, (replied I) that luckless swain your
Brother, is no more, and you may now glory in being the
Heiress of Sir Edward's fortune."

Although I had always despised her from the Day I had
overheard her conversation with my Edward, yet in civility
I complied with hers and Sir Edward's intreaties that I would
inform them of the whole melancholy affair. They were
greatly shocked — even the obdurate Heart of Sir Edward
and the insensible one of Augusta, were touched with sorrow,
by the unhappy tale. At the request of your Mother I related
to them every other misfortune which had befallen me since
we parted. Of the imprisonment of Augustus and the
absence of Edward — of our arrival in Scotland — of our un-
expected Meeting with our Grand-father and our cousins —
of our visit to Macdonald-Hall — of the singular service we
there performed towards Janetta — of her Fathers ingratitude
for it ... . of his inhuman Behaviour, unaccountable
suspicions, and barbarous treatment of us, in obliging us to

3 6

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

leave the House .... of our lamentations on the loss of
Edward and Augustus and finally of the melancholy Death
of my beloved Companion.

Pity and surprise were strongly depictured in your Mother's
countenance, during the whole of my narration, but I am
sorry to say, that to the eternal reproach of her sensibility,
the latter infinitely predominated. Nay, faultless as my
conduct had certainly been during the whole course of my
late misfortunes and adventures, she pretended to find fault
with my behaviour in many of the situations in which I had
been placed. As I was sensible myself, that I had always
behaved in a manner which reflected Honour on my Feelings
and Refinement, I paid little attention to what she said, and
desired her to satisfy my Curiosity by informing me how she
came there, instead of wounding my spotless reputation with
unjustifiable Reproaches. As soon as she had complyed with
my wishes in this particular and had given me an accurate
detail of every thing that had befallen her since our separation
(the particulars of which if you are not already acquainted
with, your Mother will give you) I applied to Augusta for
the same information respecting herself, Sir Edward and Lady
Dorothea.

She told me that having a considerable taste for the Beauties
of Nature, her curiosity to behold the delightful scenes it
exhibited in that part of the World had been so much raised
by Gilpin's Tour to the Highlands, that she had prevailed on
her Father to undertake a Tour to Scotland and had per-
suaded Lady Dorothea to accompany them. That they had
arrived at Edinburgh a few Days before and from thence
had made daily Excursions into the Country around in the
Stage Coach they were then in, from one of which Excursions

£ JANE AUSTEN £

they were at that time returning. My next enquiries were
concerning Philippa and her Husband, the latter of whom I
learned having spent all her fortune, had recourse for sub-
sistence to the talent in which, he had always most excelled,
namely, Driving, and that having sold every thing which
belonged to them except their Coach, had converted it into
a Stage and in order to be removed from any of his former
Acquaintance, had driven it to Edinburgh from whence he
went to Sterling every other Day. That Philippa still retain-
ing her affection for her ungratefull Husband, had followed
him to Scotland and generally accompanied him in his little
Excursions to Sterling. " It has only been to throw a little
money into their Pockets (continued Augusta) that my Father
has always travelled in their Coach to veiw the beauties of
the Country since our arrival in Scotland — for it would
certainly have been much more agreable to us, to visit the
Highlands in a Postchaise than merely to travel from Edin-
burgh to Sterling and from Sterling to Edinburgh every
other Day in a crowded and uncomfortable Stage." I per-
fectly agreed with her in her sentiments on the affair, and
secretly blamed Sir Edward for thus sacrificing his Daughter's
Pleasure for the sake of a ridiculous old woman whose folly
in marrying so young a man ought to be punished. His
Behaviour however was entirely of a peice with his general
Character ; for what could be expected from a man who
possessed not the smallest atom of Sensibility, who scarcely
knew the meaning of simpathy, and who actually snored — .

Adeiu

Laura.

£ LOVE AND FREINDSHIP g

LETTER the 15th
LAURA in continuation.

WHEN we arrived at the town where we were to
Breakfast, I was determined to speak with Philander
and Gustavus, and to that purpose as soon as I left
the Carriage, I went to the Basket and tenderly enquired after
their Health, expressing my fears of the uneasiness of their
situation. At first they seemed rather confused at my
appearance dreading no doubt that I might call them to
account for the money which our Grandfather had left me
and which they had unjustly deprived me of, but finding
that I mentioned nothing of the Matter, they desired me to
step into the Basket as we might there converse with greater
ease. Accordingly I entered and whilst the rest of the party
were devouring green tea and buttered toast, we feasted
ourselves in a more refined and sentimental Manner by a
confidential Conversation. I informed them of everything
which had befallen me during the course of my life, and at
my request they related to me every incident of theirs.

" We are the sons as you already know, of the two youngest
Daughters which Lord St Clair had by Laurina an italian
opera girl. Our mothers could neither of them exactly
ascertain who were our Father, though it is generally beleived
that Philander, is the son of one Philip Jones a Bricklayer and
that my Father was Gregory Staves a Stay maker of Edin-
burgh. This is however of little consequence for as our
Mothers were certainly never married to either of them it
reflects no Dishonour on our Blood, which is of a most ancient
and unpolluted kind. Bertha (the Mother of Philander)
and Agatha (my own Mother) always lived together. They

£ JANE AUSTEN £

were neither of them very rich ; their united fortunes had
originally amounted to nine thousand Pounds, but as they
had always lived upon the principal of it, when we were fifteen
it was diminished to nine Hundred. This nine Hundred,
they always kept in a Drawer in one of the Tables which
stood in our common sitting Parlour, for the conveni-
ence of having it always at Hand. Whether it was from this
circumstance, of its being easily taken, or from a wish of being
independant, or from an excess of sensibility (for which we
were always remarkable) I cannot now determine, but certain
it is that when we had reached our 1 5th year, we took the
nine Hundred Pounds and ran away. Having obtained this
prize we were determined to manage it with eoconomy and
not to spend it either with folly or Extravagance. To this
purpose we therefore divided it into nine parcels, one of which
we devoted to Victuals, the 2 d to Drink, the 3 d to House-
keeping, the 4th to Carriages, the 5 th to Horses, the 6th to
Servants, the 7th to Amusements the 8th to Cloathes and the
9th to Silver Buckles. Having thus arranged our Expences
for two months (for we expected to make the nine Hundred
Pounds last as long) we hastened to London and had the good
luck to spend it in 7 weeks and a Day which was 6 Days sooner
than we had intended. As soon as we had thus happily dis-
encumbered ourselves from the weight of so much money, we
began to think of returning to our Mothers, but accidentally
hearing that they were both starved to Death, we gave over
the design and determined to engage ourselves to some stroll-
ing Company of Players, as we had always a turn for the Stage.
Accordingly we offered our services to one and were accepted ;
our Company was indeed rather small, as it consisted only of
the Manager his wife and ourselves, but there were fewer to
40

LOVE AND FREINDSHIP £

pay and the only inconvenience attending it was the Scarcity
of Plays which for want of People to fill the Characters, we
could perform. We did not mind trifles however — . One
of our most admired Performances was Macbeth, in which we
were truly great. The Manager always played Banquo him-
self, his Wife my Lady Macbeth. I did the Three Witches
and Philander acted all the rest. To say the truth this tragedy
was not only the Best, but the only Play we ever performed ;
and after having acted it all over England, and Wales, we
came to Scotland to exhibit it over the remainder of Great
Britain. We happened to be quartered in that very Town,
where you came and met your Grandfather — . We were
in the Inn-yard when his Carnage entered and perceiving by
the arms to whom it belonged, and knowing that Lord St
Clair was our Grandfather, we agreed to endeavour to get
something from him by discovering the Relationship — . You
know how well it succeeded — . Having obtained the two
Hundred Pounds, we instantly left the Town, leaving our
Manager and his Wife to act Macbeth by themselves, and
took the road to Sterling, where we spent our little fortune
with great eclat. We are now returning to Edinburgh in
order to get some preferment in the Acting way ; and such
my Dear Cousin is our History."

I thanked the amiable Youth for his entertaining narration,
and after expressing my wishes for their Welfare and Happi-
ness, left them in their little Habitation and returned to my
other Freinds who impatiently expected me.

My adventures are now drawing to a close my dearest
Marianne ; at least for the present.

When we arrived at Edinburgh Sir Edward told me that
as the Widow of his son, he desired I would accept from his

H 41

^ JANE AUSTEN

Hands of four Hundred a year. I graciously promised that
I would, but could not help observing that the unsimpathetic
Baronet offered it more on account of my being the Widow
of Edward than in being the refined and amiable Laura.

I took up my Residence in a romantic Village in the High-
lands of Scotland where I have ever since continued, and
where I can uninterrupted by unmeaning Visits, indulge in
a melancholy solitude, my unceasing Lamentations for the
Death of my Father, my Mother, my Husband and my
Freind.

Augusta has been for several years united to Graham the
Man of all others most suited to her ; she became acquainted
with him during her stay in Scotland.

Sir Edward in hopes of gaining an Heir to his Title and
Estate, at the same time married Lady Dorothea — . His
wishes have been answered.

Philander and Gustavus, after having raised their reputation
by their Performances in the Theatrical Line at Edinburgh,
removed to Covent Garden, where they still Exhibit under
the assumed names of Luvis and Quick.

Philippa has long paid the Debt of Nature, Her Husband
however still continues to drive the Stage-Coach from
Edinburgh to Sterling : —

Adeiu my Dearest Marianne.

Laura.
Finis

June 13th 1790.

;

ft •

LESLEY CASTLE

AN UNFINISHED NOVEL IN LETTERS

To HENRY THOMAS AUSTEN Esqre.
Sir

1AM now availing myself of the Liberty you have fre-
quently honoured me with of dedicating one of my Novels
to you. That it is unfinished, I greive ; yet fear that
from me, it will always remain so ; that as far as it is carried,
it should be so trifling and so unworthy of you, is another
concern to your obliged humble

Servant

The Author

Messrs Demand and Co — please to pay Jane Austen Spinster
the sum of one hundred guineas on account of your Humble
Servant.

H. T. Austen
£105. o. o

LESLEY CASTLE

LETTER the FIRST is from

Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE

LUTTERELL.

Lesley Castle Janry 3rd — 1792.

MY Brother has just left us. " Matilda (said he at part-
ing) you and Margaret will I am certain take all
the care of my dear little one, that she might have
received from an indulgent, and affectionate and amiable
Mother." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke these
words — the remembrance of her, who had so wantonly dis-
graced the Maternal character and so openly violated the
conjugal Duties, prevented his adding anything farther ; he
embraced his sweet Child and after saluting Matilda and Me
hastily broke from us and seating himself in his Chaise, pur-
sued the road to Aberdeen. Never was there a better young
Man ! Ah ! how little did he deserve the misfortunes he has
experienced in the Marriage state. So good a Husband to
so bad a Wife ! for you know my dear Charlotte that the
Worthless Louisa left him, her Child and reputation a few
weeks ago in company with Danvers and *dishonour. Never
was there a sweeter face, a finer form, or a less amiable Heart
than Louisa owned ! Her child already possesses the per-
sonal Charms of her unhappy Mother ! May she inherit
from her Father all his mental ones ! Lesley is at present
but five and twenty, and has already given himself up to
melancholy and Despair ; what a difference between him
and his Father ! Sir George is 57 and still remains the Beau,
the flighty stripling, the gay Lad, and sprightly Youngster,

* Rakehelly Dishonor, Esqre. (as in MS.).

g JANE AUSTEN £

that his Son was really about five years back, and that he has
affected to appear ever since my remembrance. While our
father is fluttering about the streets of London, gay, dissipated,
and Thoughtless at the age of 57, Matilda and I continue
secluded from Mankind in our old and Mouldering
Castle, which is situated two miles from Perth on a bold
projecting Rock, and commands an extensive veiw of the
Town and its delightful Environs. But tho' retired from
almost all the World, (for we visit no one but the M'Leods,
The M'Kenzies, the M'Phersons, the M'Cartneys, the
M'Donalds, The M'kinnons, the M'lellans, the M'kays,
the Macbeths and the Macduffs) we are neither dull nor
unhappy ; on the contrary there never were two more lively,
more agreable or more witty girls, than we are ; not an hour
in the Day hangs heavy on our Hands. We read, we work,
we walk, and when fatigued with these Employments releive
our spirits, either by a lively song, a graceful Dance, or by
some smart bon-mot, and witty repartee. We are handsome
my dear Charlotte, very handsome and the greatest of our
Perfections is, that we are entirely insensible of them our-
selves. But why do I thus dwell on myself ? Let me rather
repeat the praise of our dear little Neice the innocent Louisa,
who is at present sweetly smiling in a gentle Nap, as she re-
poses on the sofa. The dear Creature is just turned of two
years old ; as handsome as tho' 2 and 20, as sensible as tho'
2 and 30, and as prudent as tho' 2 and 40. To convince
you of this, I must inform you that she has a very fine com-
plexion and very pretty features, that she already knows the
two first letters in the Alphabet, and that she never tears her
frocks — . If I have not now convinced you of her Beauty,
Sense and Prudence, I have nothing more to urge in support

£ LESLEY CASTLE jg

of my assertion, and you will therefore have no way of decid-
ing the Affair but by coming to Lesley-Castle, and by a per-
sonal acquaintance with Louisa, determine for yourself. Ah !
my dear Freind, how happy should I be to see you within
these venerable Walls ! It is now four years since my removal
from School has separated me from you ; that two such
tender Hearts, so closely linked together by the ties of sim-
pathy and Freindship, should be so widely removed from
each other, is vastly moving. I live in Perthshire, You in
Sussex. We might meet in London, were my Father dis-
posed to carry me there, and were your Mother to be there
at the same time. We might meet at Bath, at Tunbridge,
or anywhere else indeed, could we but be at the same place
together. We have only to hope that such a period may
arrive. My Father does not return to us till Autumn ; my
Brother will leave Scotland in a few Days ; he is impatient
to travel. Mistaken Youth ! He vainly flatters himself
that change of Air will heal the Wounds of a broken Heart !
You will join with me I am certain my dear Charlotte, in
prayers for the recovery of the unhappy Lesley's peace of
Mind, which must ever be essential to that of your sincere
freind M. Lesley.

LETTER the SECOND

From Miss C. LUTTERELL to Miss M. LESLEY in

answer.

Glenford Feb:ry 12

1HAVE a thousand excuses to beg for having so long
delayed thanking you my dear Peggy for your agreable
Letter, which beleive me I should not have deferred
1 49

sef,

g JANE AUSTEN

doing, had not every moment of my time during the last five
weeks been so fully employed in the necessary arrangements
for my sisters wedding, as to allow me no time to devote either
to you or myself. And now what provokes me more than
anything else is that the Match is broke off, and all my Labour
thrown away. Imagine how great the Dissapointment
must be to me, when you consider that after having laboured
both by Night and by Day, in order to get the Wedding
dinner ready by the time appointed, after having roasted Beef,
Broiled Mutton, and Stewed Soup enough to last the ne^
married Couple through the Honey-moon, I had the mortifi-
cation of finding that I had been Roasting, Broiling and Stew-
ing both the Meat and Myself to no purpose. Indeed my
dear Freind, I never remember suffering any vexation equal
to what I experienced on last Monday when my sister came
running to me in the store-room with her face as White as a
Whipt syllabub, and told me that Hervey had been thrown
from his Horse, had fractured his Scull and was pronounced
by his surgeon to be in the most emminent Danger. " Good
God ! (said I) you dont say so ? Why what in the name of
Heaven will become of all the Victuals ! We shall never
be able to eat it while it is good. However, we'll call in the
Surgeon to help us. I shall be able to manage the Sir-loin
myself, my Mother will eat the soup, and You and the Doctor
must finish the rest." Here I was interrupted, by seeing
my poor Sister fall down to appearance Lifeless upon one of
the Chests, where we keep our Table linen. I immediately
called my Mother and the Maids, and at last we brought her
to herself again ; as soon as ever she was sensible, she ex-
pressed a determination of going instantly to Henry, and was
so wildly bent on this Scheme, that we had the greatest

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

Difficulty in the World to prevent her putting it in execution ;
at last however more by Force than Entreaty we prevailed on
her to go into her room ; we laid her upon the Bed, and she
continued for some Hours in the most dreadful Convulsions.
My Mother and I continued in the room with her, and when
any intervals of tolerable Composure in Eloisa would allow
us, we joined in heartfelt lamentations on the dreadful Waste
in our provisions which this Event must occasion, and in con-
certing some plan for getting rid of them. We agreed that
the best thing we could do was to begin eating them imme-
diately, and accordingly we ordered up the cold Ham and
Fowls, and instantly began our Devouring Plan on them with
great Alacrity. We would have persuaded Eloisa to have
taken a Wing of a Chicken, but she would not be persuaded.
She was however much quieter than she had been ; the con-
vulsions she had before suffered having given way to an almost
perfect Insensibility. We endeavoured to rouse her by every
means in our power, but to no purpose. I talked to her of
Henry. " Dear Eloisa (said I) there's no occasion for your
crying so much about such a trifle, (for I was willing to
make light of it in order to comfort her) I beg you would not
mind it — You see it does not vex me in the least ; though
perhaps / may suffer most from it after all ; for I shall not
only be obliged to eat up all the Victuals I have dressed already,
but must if Henry should recover (which however is not very
likely) dress as much for you again ; or should he die (as I
suppose he will) I shall still have to prepare a Dinner for you
whenever you marry any one else. So you see that tho' per-
haps for the present it may afflict you to think of Henry's
sufferings, Yet I dare say he'll die soon, and then his pain will
be over and you will be easy, whereas my Trouble will last

J JANE AUSTEN £

much longer for work as hard as I may, I am certain that the
pantry cannot be cleared in less than a fortnight." Thus I
did all in my power to console her, but without any effect,
and at last as I saw that she did not seem to listen to me, I
said no more, but leaving her with my Mother I took down
the remains of The Ham and Chicken, and sent William to
ask how Henry did. He was not expected to live many
Hours ; he died the same day. We took all possible care
to break the melancholy Event to Eloisa in the tenderest
manner ; yet in spite of every precaution, her sufferings on
hearing it were too violent for her reason, and she continued
for many hours in a high Delirium. She is still extremely
ill, and her Physicians are greatly afraid of her going into a
Decline. We are therefore preparing for Bristol, where we
mean to be in the course of the next week. And now my
dear Margaret let me talk a little of your affairs ; and in the
first place I must inform you that it is confidently reported,
your Father is going to be married ; I am very unwilling to
beleive so unpleasing a report, and at the same time cannot
wholly discredit it. I have written to my freind Susan Fitz-
gerald, for information concerning it, which as she is at
present in Town, she will be very able to give me. I know
not who is the Lady. I think your Brother is extremely
right in the resolution he has taken of travelling, as it will
perhaps contribute to obliterate from his remembrance, those
disagreable Events, which have lately so much afflicted him —
I am happy to find that tho* secluded from all the World,
neither you nor Matilda are dull or unhappy — that you may
never know what it is to be either is the wish of your sincerely
affectionate

C. L.
52

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

P. S. I have this instant received an answer from my
freind Susan, which I enclose to you, and on which you will
make your own reflections.

The enclosed LETTER

My dear CHARLOTTE

YOU could not have applied for information con-
cerning the report of Sir George Lesleys Marriage,
to any one better able to give it you than I am. Sir
George is certainly married ; I was myself present at the
Ceremony, which you will not be surprised at when I sub-
scribe myself your

Affectionate

Susan Lesley

LETTER the THIRD

From Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss C.

LUTTERELL

Lesley Castle February the 16th

I HAVE made my own reflections on the letter you en-
closed to me, my Dear Charlotte and I will now tell you
what those reflections were. I reflected that if by this
second Marriage Sir George should have a second family,
our fortunes must be considerably diminushed — that if his
Wife should be of an extravagant turn, she would encourage
him to persevere in that gay and Dissipated way of Life to
which little encouragement would be necessary, and which
has I fear already proved but too detrimental to his health and
fortune — that she would now become Mistress of those Jewels

X JANE AUSTEN ^

which once adorned our Mother, and which Sir George had
always promised us — that if they did not come into Perth-
shire I should not be able to gratify my curiosity of beholding
my Mother-in-law and that if they did, Matilda would no
longer sit at the head of her Father's table — . These my
dear Charlotte were the melancholy reflections which crowded
into my imagination after perusing Susan's letter to you, and
which instantly occurred to Matilda when she had perused
it likewise. The same ideas, the same fears, immediately
occupied her Mind, and I know not which reflection dis-
tressed her most, whether the probable Diminution of our
Fortunes, or her own Consequence. We both wish very
much to know whether Lady Lesley is handsome and what
is your opinion of her ; as you honour her with the appel-
lation of your freind, we flatter ourselves that she must be
amiable. My Brother is already in Paris. He intends to
quit it in a few Days, and to begin his route to Italy. He
writes in a most chearfull manner, says that the air of France
has greatly recovered both his Health and Spirits ; that he
has now entirely ceased to think of Louisa with any degree
either of Pity or Affection, that he even feels himself obliged
to her for her Elopement, as he thinks it very good fun to be
single again. By this, you may perceive that he has entirely
regained that chearful Gaiety, and sprightly Wit, for which
he was once so remarkable. When he first became acquainted
with Louisa which was little more than three years ago, he
was one of the most lively, the most agreable young Men of
the age — . I beleive you never yet heard the particulars of
his first acquaintance with her. It commenced at our cousin
Colonel Drummond's ; at whose house in Cumberland he
spent the Christmas, in which he attained the age of two and
54

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

twenty. Louisa Burton was the Daughter of a distant
Relation of Mrs. Drummond, who dieing a few Months
before in extreme poverty, left his only Child then about
eighteen to the protection of any of his Relations who would
protect her. Mrs. Drummond was the only one who found
herself so disposed — Louisa was therefore removed from a
miserable Cottage in Yorkshire to an elegant Mansion in
Cumberland, and from every pecuniary Distress that Poverty
could inflict, to every elegant Enjoyment that Money could
purchase — . Louisa was naturally ill-tempered and Cun-
ning ; but she had been taught to disguise her real Disposition,
under the appearance of insinuating Sweetness, by a father
who but too well knew, that to be married, would be the
only chance she would have of not being starved, and who
flattered himself that with such an extroidinary share of
personal beauty, joined to a gentleness of Manners, and an
engaging address, she might stand a good chance of pleasing
some young Man who might afford to marry a girl without
a Shilling. Louisa perfectly entered into her father's schemes
and was determined to forward them with all her care and
attention. By dint of Perseverance and Application, she
had at length so thoroughly disguised her natural disposition
under the mask of Innocence, and Softness, as to impose upon
every one who had not by a long and constant intimacy with
her discovered her real Character. Such was Louisa when
the hapless Lesley first beheld her at Drummond-house. His
heart which (to use your favourite comparison) was as delicate
as sweet and as tender as a Whipt-syllabub, could not resist
her attractions. In a very few Days, he was falling in love,
shortly after actually fell, and before he had known her a
Month, he had married her. My Father was at first highly

£ JANE AUSTEN j

displeased at so hasty and imprudent a connection ; but when
he found that they did not mind it, he soon became perfectly
reconciled to the match. The Estate near Aberdeen which
my brother possesses by the bounty of his great Uncle in-
dependant of Sir George, was entirely sufficient to support
him and my Sister in Elegance and Ease. For the first
twelvemonth, no one could be happier than Lesley, and no
one more amiable to appearance than Louisa, and so plaus-
ibly did she act and so cautiously behave that tho' Matilda
and I often spent several weeks together with them, yet we
neither of us had any suspicion of her real Disposition. After
the birth of Louisa however, which one would have thought
would have strengthened her regard for Lesley, the mask she
had so long supported was by degrees thrown aside, and as
probably she then thought herself secure in the affection of
her Husband (which did indeed appear if possible augmented
by the birth of his Child) she seemed to take no pains to pre-
vent that affection from ever diminushing. Our visits there-
fore to Dunbeath, were now less frequent and by far less
agreable than they used to be. Our absence was however
never either mentioned or lamented by Louisa who in the
society of young Danvers with whom she became acquainted
at Aberdeen (he was at one of the Universities there,) felt
infinitely happier than in that of Matilda and your freind,
tho' there certainly never were pleasanter girls than we are.
You know the sad end of all Lesleys connubial happiness ; I
will not repeat it — . Adeiu my dear Charlotte ; although
I have not yet mentioned anything of the matter, I hope you
will do me the justice to beleive that I think and fee/, a great
deal for your Sisters affliction. I do not doubt but that the
healthy air of the Bristol downs will intirely remove it, by

£ LESLEY CASTLE ^

erasing from her Mind the remembrance of Henry. I am
my dear Charlotte yrs ever

M. L.

LETTER the FOURTH

From Miss C. LUTTERELL to Miss M. LESLEY

Bristol February 27th
My dear Peggy

I HAVE but just received your letter, which being
directed to Sussex while I was at Bristol was obliged to

be forwarded to me here, and from some unaccountable
Delay, has but this instant reached me — . I return you
many thanks for the account it contains of Lesley's acquaint-
ance, Love and Marriage with Louisa, which has not the less
entertained me for having often been repeated to me before.
I have the satisfaction of informing you that we have every
reason to imagine our pantry is by this time nearly cleared,
as we left particular orders with the servants to eat as hard as
they possibly could, and to call in a couple of Chairwomen
to assist them. We brought a cold Pigeon pye, a cold turkey,
a cold tongue, and half a dozen Jellies with us, which we were
lucky enough with the help of our Landlady, her husband,
and their three children, to get rid of, in less than two days
after our arrival. Poor Eloisa is still so very indifferent both
in Health and Spirits, that I very much fear, the air of the
Bristol downs, healthy as it is, has not been able to drive poor
Henry from her remembrance.

You ask me whether your new Mother in law is handsome
and amiable — I will now give you an exact description of

k 57

^ JANE AUSTEN £

her bodily and mental charms. She is short, and extremely
well made ; is naturally pale, but rouges a good deal ; has
fine eyes, and fine teeth, as she will take care to let you know
as soon as she sees you, and is altogether very pretty. She is
remarkably good-tempered when she has her own way, and
very lively when she is not out of humour. She is naturally
extravagant and not very affected ; she never reads anything
but the letters she receives from me, and never writes any-
thing but her answers to them. She plays, sings and Dances,
but has no taste for either, and excells in none, tho' she says
she is passionately fond of all. Perhaps you may flatter me
so far as to be surprised that one of whom I speak with so little
affection should be my particular freind ; but to tell you the
truth, our freindship arose rather from Caprice on her side
than Esteem on mine. We spent two or three days together
with a Lady in Berkshire with whom we both happened to
be connected — . During our visit, the Weather being re-
markably bad, and our party particularly stupid, she was so
good as to conceive a violent partiality for me, which very
soon settled in a downright Freindship and ended in an estab-
lished correspondence. She is probably by this time as tired
of me, as I am of her ; but as she is too polite and I am too
civil to say so, our letters are still as frequent and affectionate
as ever, and our Attachment as firm and sincere as when it
first commenced. As she had a great taste for the pleasures
of London, and of Brighthelmstone, she will I dare say find
some difficulty in prevailing on herself even to satisfy the
curiosity I dare say she feels of beholding you, at the expence
of quitting those favourite haunts of Dissipation, for the
melancholy tho' venerable gloom of the castle you inhabit.
Perhaps however if she finds her health impaired by too much

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

amusement, she may acquire fortitude sufficient to undertake
a Journey to Scotland in the hope of its proving at least bene-
ficial to her health, if not conducive to her happiness. Your
fears I am sorry to say, concerning your father's extravagance,
your own fortunes, your Mothers Jewels and your Sister's
consequence, I should suppose are but too well founded. My
freind herself has four thousand pounds, and will probably
spend nearly as much every year in Dress and Public places,
if she can get it — she will certainly not endeavour to reclaim
Sir George from the manner of living to which he has been
so long accustomed, and there is therefore some reason to
fear that you will be very well off, if you get any fortune at
all. The Jewels I should imagine too will undoubtedly be
hers, and there is too much reason to think that she will pre-
side at her Husbands table in preference to his Daughter.
But as so melancholy a subject must necessarily extremely
distress you, I will no longer dwell on it — .

Eloisa's indisposition has brought us to Bristol at so un-
fashionable a season of the year, that we have actually seen
but one genteel family since we came. Mr and Mrs Marlowe
are very agreable people ; the ill health of their little boy
occasioned their arrival here; you may imagine that being
the only family with whom we can converse, we are of course
on a footing of intimacy with them ; we see them indeed
almost every day, and dined with them yesterday. We
spent a very pleasant Day, and had a very good Dinner, tho'
to be sure the Veal was terribly underdone, and the Curry
had no seasoning. I could not help wishing all dinner-time
that I had been at the dressing it — . A brother of Mrs
Marlowe, Mr Cleveland is with them at present; he is a
good-looking young Man, and seems to have a good deal to

^ JANE AUSTEN £

say for himself. I tell Eloisa that she should set her cap at
him, but she does not at all seem to relish the proposal. I
should like to see the girl married and Cleveland has a very
good estate. Perhaps you may wonder that I do not con-
sider myself 'as well as my Sister in my matrimonial Projects ;
but to tell you the truth I never wish to act a more principal
part at a Wedding than the superintending and directing the
Dinner, and therefore while I can get any of my acquaint-
ance to marry for me, I shall never think of doing it myself,
as I very much suspect that I should not have so much time
for dressing my own Wedding-dinner, as for dressing that
of my freinds.

Yours sincerely

C. L.

LETTER the FIFTH

Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE

LUTTERELL

Lesley-Castle March 18th

ON the same day that I received your last kind letter,
Matilda received one from Sir George which was
dated from Edinburgh, and informed us that he
should do himself the pleasure of introducing Lady Lesley
to us on the following evening. This as you may suppose
considerably surprised us, particularly as your account of her
Ladyship had given us reason to imagine there was little
chance of her visiting Scotland at a time that London must
be so gay. As it was our business however to be delighted
at such a mark of condescension as a visit from Sir George
60

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

and Lady Lesley, we prepared to return them an answer
expressive of the happiness we enjoyed in expectation of
such a Blessing, when luckily recollecting that as they were
to reach the Castle the next Evening, it would be impossible
for my father to receive it before he left Edinburgh, we con-
tented ourselves with leaving them to suppose that we were
as happy as we ought to be. At nine in the Evening on the
following day, they came, accompanied by one of Lady
Lesleys brothers. Her Ladyship perfectly answers the
description you sent me of her, except that I do not think her
so pretty as you seem to consider her. She has not a bad
face, but there is something so extremely unmajestic in her
little diminutive figure, as to render her in comparison with
the elegant height of Matilda and Myself, an insignificant
Dwarf. Her curiosity to see us (which must have been great
to bring her more than four hundred miles) being now per-
fectly gratified, she already begins to mention their return to
town, and has desired us to accompany her. We cannot re-
fuse her request since it is seconded by the commands of our
Father, and thirded by the entreaties of Mr. Fitzgerald who
is certainly one of the most pleasing young Men, I ever be-
held. It is not yet determined when we are to go, but when
ever we do we shall certainly take our little Louisa with us.
Adeiu my dear Charlotte ; Matilda unites in best wishes to
you and Eloisa, with yours ever

M. L.

£ JANE AUSTEN £

LETTER the SIXTH

LADY LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE LUTTERELL

Lesley-Castle March 20th

WE arrived here my sweet Freind about a fortnight
ago, and I already heartily repent that I ever left
our charming House in Portman-square for such a
dismal old weather-beaten Castle as this. You can form no
idea sufficiently hideous, of its dungeon-like form. It is
actually perched upon a Rock to appearance so totally in-
accessible, that I expected to have been pulled up by a rope ;
and sincerely repented having gratified my curiosity to behold
my Daughters at the expence of being obliged to enter their
prison in so dangerous and ridiculous a manner. But as soon
as I once found myself safely arrived in the inside of this
tremendous building, I comforted myself with the hope of
having my spirits revived, by the sight of two beautifull girls,
such as the Miss Lesleys had been represented to me, at Edin-
burgh. But here again, I met with nothing but Disappoint-
ment and Surprise. Matilda and Margaret Lesley are two
great, tall, out of the way, over-grown, girls, just of a proper
size to inhabit a Castle almost as large in comparison as them-
selves. I wish my dear Charlotte that you could but behold
these Scotch giants ; I am sure they would frighten you out
of your wits. They will do very well as foils to myself, so I
have invited them to accompany me to London where I hope
to be in the course of a fortnight. Besides these two fair
Damsels, I found a little humoured Brat here who I beleive
is some relation to them, they told me who she was, and gave
me a long rigmerole story of her father and a Miss Somebody
which I have entirely forgot. I hate scandal and detest
62

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

Children. I have been plagued ever since I came here with
tiresome visits from a parcel of Scotch wretches, with terrible
hard-names ; they were so civil, gave me so many invitations,
and talked of coming again so soon, that I could not help
affronting them. I suppose I shall not see them any more,
and yet as a family party we are so stupid, that I do not know
what to do with myself. These girls have no Music, but
Scotch airs, no Drawings but Scotch Mountains, and no
Books but Scotch Poems — and I hate everything Scotch. In
general I can spend half the Day at my toilett with a great
deal of pleasure, but why should I dress here, since there is
not a creature in the House whom I have any wish to please.
I have just had a conversation with my Brother in which he
has greatly offended me, and which as I have nothing more
entertaining to send you I will gave you the particulars of.
You must know that I have for these 4 or 5 Days past strongly
suspected William of entertaining a partiality to my eldest
Daughter. I own indeed that had / been inclined to fall in
love with any woman, I should not have made choice of
Matilda Lesley for the object of my passion ; for there is
nothing I hate so much as a tall Woman : but however there
is no accounting for some men's taste and as William is him-
self nearly six feet high, it is not wonderful that he should be
partial to that height. Now as I have a very great affection
for my Brother and should be extremely sorry to see him
unhappy, which I suppose he means to be if he cannot marry
Matilda, as moreover I know that his circumstances will not
allow him to marry any one without a fortune, and that
Matilda's is entirely dependant on her Father, who will
neither have his own inclination nor my permission to give
her anything at present, I thought it would be doing a good-

£ JANE AUSTEN £

natured action by my Brother to let him know as much, in
order that he might choose for himself, whether to conquer
his passion, or Love and Despair. Accordingly finding my-
self this Morning alone with him in one of the horrid old
rooms of this Castle, I opened the cause to him in the follow-
ing Manner.

" Well my dear William what do you think of these girls ?
for my part, I do not find them so plain as I expected : but
perhaps you may think me partial to the Daughters of my
Husband and perhaps you are right — They are indeed so
very like Sir George that it is natural to think "

" My Dear Susan (cried he in a tone of the greatest amaze-
ment) You do not really think they bear the least resemblance
to their Father ! He is so very plain ! — but I beg your
pardon — I had entirely forgotten to whom I was speak-
ing-"

" Oh ! pray dont mind me ; (replied I) every one knows
Sir George is horribly ugly, and I assure you I always thought
him a fright."

" You surprise me extremely (answered William) by what
you say both with respect to Sir George and his Daughters.
You cannot think your Husband so deficient in personal
Charms as you speak of, nor can you surely see any resem-
blance between him and the Miss Lesleys who are in my
opinion perfectly unlike him and perfectly Handsome."

" If that is your opinion with regard to the girls it certainly
is no proof of their Fathers beauty, for if they are perfectly
unlike him and very handsome at the same time, it is natural
to suppose that he is very plain."

"By no means, (said he) for what may be pretty in a
Woman, may be very unpleasing in a Man."

6 4

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

" But you yourself (replied I) but a few minutes ago
allowed him to be very plain."

" Men are no Judges of Beauty in their own Sex." (said
he).

" Neither Men nor Women can think Sir George toler-
able."

" Well, well, (said he) we will not dispute about his Beauty,
but your opinion of his Daughters is surely very singular, for
if I understood you right, you said you did not find them so
plain as you expected to do ! "

11 Why, do you find them plainer then ? " (said I).

" I can scarcely beleive you to be serious (returned he)
when you speak of their persons in so extroidinary a Manner.
Do not you think the Miss Lesleys are two very handsome
young Women ? "

" Lord ! No ! (cried I) I think them terribly plain ! "

" Plain ! (replied He) My dear Susan, you cannot really
think so ! Why what single Feature in the face of either of
them, can you possibly find fault with ? "

" Oh ! trust me for that ; (replied I). Come I will begin
with the eldest— with Matilda. Shall I, William?" (I
looked as cunning as I could when I said it, in order to shame
him).

" They are so much alike (said he) that I should suppose
the faults of one, would be the faults of both."

• Well, then, in the first place ; they are both so horribly
tall ! "

" They are taller than you are indeed." (said he with a
saucy smile.)

" Nay, (said I), I know nothing of that."

" Well, but (he continued) tho' they may be above the

L 65

JANE AUSTEN

common size, their figures are perfectly elegant ; and as to
their faces, their Eyes are beautifull."

" I never can think such tremendous, knock-me-down
figures in the least degree elegant, and as for their eyes, they
are so tall that I never could strain my neck enough to look
at them."

" Nay, (replied he) I know not whether you may not be
in the right in not attempting it, for perhaps they might dazzle
you with their Lustre."

" Oh ! Certainly, (said I, with the greatest complacency,
for I assure you my dearest Charlotte I was not in the least
offended tho' by what followed, one would suppose that
William was conscious of having given me just cause to be
so, for coming up to me and taking my hand, he said) " You
must not look so grave Susan ; you will make me fear I have
offended you ! "

" Offended me ! Dear Brother, how came such a thought
in your head ! (returned I) No really ! I assure you that
I am not in the least surprised at your being so warm an advo-
cate for the Beauty of these girls "

" Well, but (interrupted William) remember that we have
not yet concluded our dispute concerning them. What
fault do you find with their complexion ? "

" They are so horridly pale."

" They have always a little colour, and after any exercise
it is considerably heightened."

" Yes, but if there should ever happen to be any rain in
this part of the world, they will never be able raise more than
their common stock — except indeed they amuse themselves
with running up and Down these horrid old galleries and
Antichambers."
66

£ LESLEY CASTLE g

" Well, (replied my Brother in a tone of vexation, and
glancing an impertinent look at me) if they have but little
colour, at least, it is all their own."

This was too much my dear Charlotte, for I am certain
that he had the impudence by that look, of pretending to
suspect the reality of mine. But you I am sure will vindicate
my character whenever you may hear it so cruelly aspersed,
for you can witness how often I have protested against wear-
ing Rouge, and how much I always told you I disliked it. And
I assure you that my opinions are still the same. — . Well,
not bearing to be so suspected by my Brother, I left the room
immediately, and have been ever since in my own Dressing-
room writing to you. What a long letter have I made of it !
But you must not expect to receive such from me when I get
to Town ; for it is only at Lesley castle, that one has time to
write even to a Charlotte Lutterell. — . I was so much vexed
by William's glance, that I could not summon Patience
enough, to stay and give him that advice respecting his attach-
ment to Matilda which had first induced me from pure Love
to him to begin the conversation ; and I am now so thoroughly
convinced by it, of his violent passion for her, that I am certain
he would never hear reason on the subject, and I shall there-
fore give myself no more trouble either about him or his
favourite. Adeiu my dear girl —

Yrs affectionately Susan L.

6 7

£ JANE AUSTEN £

LETTER the SEVENTH

From Miss C. LUTTERELL to Miss M. LESLEY

Bristol the 27th of March

1HAVE received Letters from you and your Mother-in-
law within this week which have greatly entertained me,
as I find by them that you are both downright jealous of
each others Beauty. It is very odd that two pretty Women
tho' actually Mother and Daughter cannot be in the same
House without falling out about their faces. Do be con-
vinced that you are both perfectly handsome and say no more
of the Matter. I suppose this letter must be directed to
Portman Square where probably (great as is your affection
for Lesley Castle) you will not be sorry to find yourself. In
spite of all that people may say about Green fields and the
Country I was always of opinion that London and its amuse-
ments must be very agreable for a while, and should be very
happy could my Mother's income allow her to jockey us into
its Public-places, during Winter. I always longed particu-
larly to go to Vaux-hall, to see whether the cold Beef there is
cut so thin as it is reported, for I have a sly suspicion that few
people understand the art of cutting a slice of cold Beef so
well as I do : nay it would be hard if I did not know some-
thing of the Matter, for it was a part of my Education that I
took by far the most pains with. Mama always found me
her best scholar, tho' when Papa was alive Eloisa was his.
Never to be sure were there two more different Dispositions
in the World. We both loved Reading. She preferred
Histories, and / Receipts. She loved drawing, Pictures,
and I drawing Pullets. No one could sing a better song than
she, and no one make a better Pye than I. — And so it has
68

£ LESLEY CASTLE g

always continued since we have been no longer children. The
only difference is that all disputes on the superior excellence
of our Employments then so frequent are now no more. We
have for many years entered into an agreement always to
admire each other's works ; I never fail listening to her Music,
and she is as constant in eating my pies. Such at least was
the case till Henry Hervey made his appearance in Sussex.
Before the arrival of his Aunt in our neighbourhood where
she established herself you know about a twelvemonth ago,
his visits to her had been at stated times, and of equal and
settled Duration ; but on her removal to the Hall which is
within a walk from our House, they became both more fre-
quent and longer. This as you may suppose could not be
pleasing to Mrs Diana who is a professed enemy to every-
thing which is not directed by Decorum and Formality, or
which bears the least resemblance to Ease and Good-breeding.
Nay so great was her aversion to her Nephews behaviour that
I have often heard her give such hints of it before his face
that had not Henry at such times been engaged in conver-
sation with Eloisa, they must have caught his Attention and
have very much distressed him. The alteration in my Sisters
behaviour which I have before hinted at, now took place.
The Agreement we had entered into of admiring each others
productions she no longer seemed to regard, and tho' I con-
stantly applauded even every Country-dance, she played, yet
not even a pidgeon-pye of my making could obtain from her
a single word of approbation. This was certainly enough
to put any one in a Passion ; however, I was as cool as a
cream-cheese and having formed my plan and concerted a
scheme of Revenge, I was determined to let her have her own
way and not even to make her a single reproach. My scheme

6 9

£ JANE AUSTEN £

was to treat her as she treated me, and tho' she might even
draw my own Picture or play Malbrook (which is the only
tune I ever really liked) not to say so much as " Thank you
Eloisa ; " tho' I had for many years constantly hollowed
whenever she played, Bravo, Bravissimo, Encore, Da cape,
allegretto, con expres stone, and Poco pre i to with many other
such outlandish words, all of them as Eloisa told me expressive
of my Admiration ; and so indeed I suppose they are, as I see
some of them in every Page of every Music book, being the
sentiments I imagine of the composer.

I executed my Plan with great Punctuality. I can not say
success, for alas ! my silence while she played seemed not in
the least to displease her ; on the contrary she actually said
to me one day " Well Charlotte, I am very glad to find that
you have at last left off that ridiculous custom of applauding
my Execution on the Harpsichord till you made my head ake,
and yourself hoarse. I feel very much obliged to you for
keeping your admiration to yourself." I never shall forget
the very witty .answer I made to this speech. " Eloisa (said
I) I beg you would be quite at your Ease with respect to all
such fears in future, for be assured that I shall always keep my
admiration to myself and my own pursuits and never extend
it to yours." This was the only very severe thing I ever said
in my Life ; not but that I have often felt myself extremely
satirical but it was the only time I ever made my feelings
public.

I suppose there never were two young people who had a
greater affection for each other than Henry and Eloisa ; no,
the Love of your Brother for Miss Burton could not be so
strong tho' it might be more violent. You may imagine
therefore how provoked my Sister must have been to have
70

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

him play her such a trick. Poor girl ! she still laments his
Death with undiminished constancy, notwithstanding he has
been dead more than six weeks ; but some people mind such
things more than others. The ill state of Health into which
his loss has thrown her makes her so weak, and so unable to
support the least exertion, that she has been in tears all this
Morning merely from having taken leave of Mrs. Marlowe
who with her Husband, Brother and Child are to leave Bristol
this morning. I am sorry to have them go because they are
the only family with whom we have here any acquaintance,
but I never thought of crying ; to be sure Eloisa and Mrs
Marlowe have always been more together than with me, and
have therefore contracted a kind of affection for each other,
which does not make Tears so inexcusable in them as they
would be in me. The Marlowes are going to Town ; Give-
land accompanies them ; as neither Eloisa nor I could catch
him I hope you or Matilda may have better Luck. I know
not when we shall leave Bristol, Eloisa's spirits are so low that
she is very averse to moving, and yet is certainly by no means
mended by her residence here. A week or two will I hope
determine our Measures — in the mean time believe me

and etc — and etc — Charlotte Lutterell.

LETTER the EIGHTH

Miss LUTTERELL to Mrs MARLOWE

Bristol April 4th

1FEEL myself greatly obliged to you my dear Emma for
such a mark of your affection as I flatter myself was con-
veyed in the proposal you made me of our Correspond-
ing ; I assure you that it will be a great releif to me to write

^ JANE AUSTEN J

to you and as long as my Health and Spirits will allow me,
you will find me a very constant correspondent ; I will not
say an entertaining one, for you know my situation suffi-
ciently not to be ignorant that in me Mirth would be im-
proper and I know my own Heart too well not to be sensible
that it would be unnatural. You must not expect news for
we see no one with whom we are in the least acquainted, or
in whose proceedings we have any Interest. You must not
expect scandal for by the same rule we are equally debarred
either from hearing or inventing it. — You must expect
from me nothing but the melancholy effusions of a broken
Heart which is ever reverting to the Happiness it once en-
joyed and which ill supports its present wretchedness. The
Possibility of being able to write, to speak, to you of my lost
Henry will be a luxury to me, and your goodness will not I
know refuse to read what it will so much releive my Heart
to write. I once thought that to have what is in general called
a Freind (I mean one of my own sex to whom I might speak
with less reserve than to any other person) independant of
my sister would never be an object of my wishes, but how
much was I mistaken ! Charlotte is too much engrossed by
two confidential correspondents of that sort, to supply the
place of one to me, and I hope you will not think me girlishly
romantic, when I say that to have some kind and compassion-
ate Freind who might listen to my sorrows without endeavour-
ing to console me was what I had for some time wished for,
when our acquaintance with you, the intimacy which followed
it and the particular affectionate attention you paid me almost
from the first, caused me to entertain the flattering Idea of
those attentions being improved on a closer acquaintance into
a Freindship which, if you were what my wishes formed you

£ LESLEY CASTLE g

would be the greatest Happiness I could be capable of enjoy-
ing. To find that such Hopes are realised is a satisfaction
indeed, a satisfaction which is now almost the only one I can
ever experience. — I feel myself so languid that I am sure were
you with me you would oblige me to leave off writing, and
I cannot give you a greater proof of my affection for you than
by acting, as I know you would wish me to do, whether
Absent or Present. I am my dear Emmas sincere freind

E. L.

LETTER the NINTH

Mrs MARLOWE to Miss LUTTERELL

Grosvenor Street, April ioth

NEED I say my dear Eloisa how wellcome your letter
was to me ? I cannot give a greater proof of the
pleasure I received from it, or of the Desire I feel that
our Correspondence may be regular and frequent than by
setting you so good an example as I now do in answering it
before the end of the week — . But do not imagine that I
claim any merit in being so punctual; on the contrary I
assure you, that it is a far greater Gratification to me to write
to you, than to spend the Evening either at a Concert or a
Ball. Mr Marlowe is so desirous of my appearing at some
of the Public places every evening that I do not like to refuse
him, but at the same time so much wish to remain at Home,
that independant of the Pleasure I experience in devoting
any portion of my Time to my Dear Eloisa, yet the Liberty
I claim from having a letter to write of spending an Evening
at home with my little Boy, you know me well enough to be
m 73

g JANE AUSTEN £

sensible, will of itself be a sufficient Inducement (if one is
necessary) to my maintaining with Pleasure a Correspond-
ence with you. As to the subject of your letters to me,
whether grave or merry, if they concern you they must be
equally interesting to me ; not but that I think the melan-
choly Indulgence of your own sorrows by repeating them
and dwelling on them to me, will only encourage and in-
crease them, and that it will be more prudent in you to avoid
so sad a subject ; but yet knowing as I do what a soothing
and melancholy Pleasure it must afford you, I cannot prevail
on myself to deny you so great an Indulgence, and will only
insist on your not expecting me to encourage you in it, by
my own letters ; on the contrary I intend to fill them with
such lively Wit and enlivening Humour as shall even provoke
a smile in the sweet but sorrowfull countenance of my Eloisa.
In the first place you are to learn that I have met your
sisters three freinds Lady Lesley and her Daughters, twice
in Public since I have been here. I know you will be im-
patient to hear my opinion of the Beauty of three Ladies of
whom you have heard so much. Now, as you are too ill and
too unhappy to be vain, I think I may venture to inform you
that I like none of their faces so well as I do your own. Yet
they are all handsome — Lady Lesley indeed I have seen be-
fore; her Daughters I beleive would in general be said to
have a finer face than her Ladyship, and yet what with the
charms of a Blooming complexion, a little Affectation and a
great deal of small-talk, (in each of which she is superior to
the young Ladies) she will I dare say gain herself as many
admirers as the more regular features of Matilda, and Mar-
garet. I am sure you will agree with me in saying that they
can none of them be of a proper size for real Beauty, when
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£ LESLEY CASTLE £

you know that two of them are taller and the other shorter
than ourselves. In spite of this Defect (or rather by reason
of it) there is something very noble and majestic in the figures
of the Miss Lesleys, and something agreably lively in the
appearance of their pretty little Mother-in-law. But tho'
one may be majestic and the other lively, yet the faces of
neither possess that Bewitching sweetness of my Eloisas,
which her present languor is so far from diminushing. What
would my Husband and Brother say of us, if they knew all
the fine things I have been saying to you in this letter. It is
very hard that a pretty woman is never to be told she is so by
any one of her own sex without that person's being suspected
to be either her determined Enemy, or her professed Toad-
eater. How much more amiable are women in that
particular ! One man may say forty civil things to another
without our supposing that he is ever paid for it, and pro-
vided he does his Duty by our sex, we care not how Polite he
is to his own.

Mrs Lutterell will be so good as to accept my compli-
ments, Charlotte, my Love, and Eloisa the best wishes for the
recovery of her Health and Spirits that can be offered by her
affectionate Freind

E. Marlowe.

I am afraid this letter will be but a poor specimen of my
Powers in the witty way ; and your opinion of them will not
be greatly increased when I assure you that I have been as
entertaining as I possibly could.

£ JANE AUSTEN g

LETTER the TENTH

From Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE
LUTTERELL

Portman Square April 13th
My dear Charlotte

WE left Lesley-Castle on the 28th of last Month, and
arrived safely in London after a Journey of seven
Days ; I had the pleasure of finding your Letter
here waiting my Arrival, for which you have my grateful
Thanks. Ah ! my dear Freind I every day more regret the
serene and tranquil Pleasures of the Castle we have left, in
exchange for the uncertain and unequal Amusements of this
vaunted City. Not that I will pretend to assert that these
uncertain and unequal Amusements are in the least Degree
unpleasing to me ; on the contrary I enjoy them extremely
and should enjoy them even more, were I not certain that
every appearance I make in Public but rivetts the Chains of
those unhappy Beings whose Passion it is impossible not to
pity, tho* it is out of my power to return. In short my Dear
Charlotte it is my sensibility for the sufferings of so many
amiable young Men, my Dislike of the extreme admiration
I meet with, and my aversion to being so celebrated both in
Public, in Private, in Papers, and in Printshops, that are the
reasons why I cannot more fully enjoy, the Amusements so
various and pleasing of London. How often have I wished
that I possessed as little personal Beauty as you do ; that my
figure were as inelegant; my face as unlovely; and my
appearance as unpleasing as yours ! But ah ! what little
chance is there of so desirable an Event ; I have had the
small-pox, and must therefore submit to my unhappy fate.
I am now going to intrust you my dear Charlotte with a

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

secret which has long disturbed the tranquility of my days,
and which is of a kind to require the most inviolable Secrecy
from you. Last Monday se'night Matilda and I accom-
panied Lady Lesley to a Rout at the Honourable Mrs Kick-
about's ; we were escorted by Mr Fitzgerald who is a very
amiable young Man in the main, tho' perhaps a little singular
in his Taste — He is in love with Matilda — . We had
scarcely paid our Compliments to the Lady of the House and
curtseyed to half a score different people when my Attention
was attracted by the appearance of a Young Man the most
lovely of his Sex, who at that moment entered the Room
with another Gentleman and Lady. From the first moment
I beheld him, I was certain that on him depended the future
Happiness of my Life. Imagine my surprise when he was
introduced to me by the name of Cleveland — I instantly
recognised him as the Brother of Mrs Marlowe, and the
acquaintance of my Charlotte at Bristol. Mr and Mrs M.
were the gentleman and Lady who accompanied him. (You
do not think Mrs Marlowe handsome ?) The elegant
address of Mr Cleveland, his polished Manners and Delight-
ful Bow, at once confirmed my attachment. He did not
speak ; but I can imagine everything he would have said,
had he opened his Mouth. I can picture to myself the cul-
tivated Understanding, the Noble sentiments, and elegant
Language which would have shone so conspicuous in the
conversation of Mr Cleveland. The approach of Sir James
Gower (one of my too numerous admirers) prevented the
Discovery of any such Powers, by putting an end to a Con-
versation we had never commenced, and by attracting my
attention to himself. But oh ! how inferior are the accom-
plishments of Sir James to those of his so greatly envied Rival !

£ JANE AUSTEN ^

Sir James is one of the most frequent of our Visitors, and is
almost always of our Parties. We have since often met Mr
and Mrs Marlowe but no Cleveland — he is always engaged
some where else. Mrs Marlowe fatigues me to Death every
time I see her by her tiresome Conversations about you and
Eloisa. She is so stupid ! I live in the hope of seeing her
irrisistable Brother to night, as we are going to Lady Flam-
beaus, who is I know intimate with the Marlowes. Our
party will be Lady Lesley, Matilda, Fitzgerald, Sir James
Gower, and myself. We see little of Sir George, who is
almost always at the gaming-table. Ah ! my poor Fortune
where art thou by this time ? We see more of Lady L. who
always makes her appearance (highly rouged) at Dinner-time.
Alas ! what Delightful Jewels will she be decked in this even-
ing at Lady Flambeau's ! Yet I wonder how she can herself
delight in wearing them ; surely she must be sensible of the
ridiculous impropriety of loading her little diminutive figure
with such superfluous ornaments ; is it possible that she can
not know how greatly superior an elegant simplicity is to the
most studied apparel ? Would she but present them to
Matilda and me, how greatly should we be obliged to her,
How becoming would Diamonds be on our fine majestic
figures ! And how surprising it is that such an Idea should
never have occurred to her. I am sure if I have reflected in
this manner once, I have fifty times. Whenever I see Lady
Lesley dressed in them such reflections immediately come
across me. My own Mother's Jewels too ! But I will say
no more on so melancholy a subject — Let me entertain you

with something more pleasing Matilda had a letter this

morning from Lesley, by which we have the pleasure of find-
ing that he is at Naples has turned Roman-Catholic, obtained

£ LESLEY CASTLE £

one of the Pope's Bulls for annulling his ist Marriage and
has since actually married a Neapolitan Lady of great Rank
and Fortune. He tells us moreover that much the same sort
of affair has befallen his first wife the worthless Louisa who
is likewise at Naples had turned Roman-catholic, and is soon
to be married to a Neapolitan Nobleman of great and Dis-
tinguished merit. He says, that they are at present very good
Freinds, have quite forgiven all past errors and intend in
future to be very good Neighbours. He invites Matilda
and me to pay him a visit to Italy and to bring him his little
Louisa whom both her Mother, Step-mother, and himself
are equally desirous of beholding. As to our accepting his
invitation, it is at present very uncertain ; Lady Lesley
advises us to go without loss of time ; Fitzgerald offers to
escort us there, but Matilda has some doubts of the Pro-
priety of such a scheme — she owns it would be very agreable.
I am certain she likes the Fellow. My Father desires us not
to be in a hurry, as perhaps if we wait a few months both he
and Lady Lesley will do themselves the pleasure of attending
us. Lady Lesley says no, that nothing will ever tempt her
to forego the Amusements of Brighthelmstone for a Journey
to Italy merely to see our Brother. " No (says the disagreable
Woman) I have once in my life been fool enough to travel I
dont know how many hundred Miles to see two of the Family,
and I found it did not answer, so Deuce take me, if ever I am
so foolish again." So says her Ladyship, but Sir George
still perseveres in saying that perhaps in a month or two, they
may accompany us.

Adeiu my Dear Charlotte

Yrs faithful Margaret Lesley.

THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND

FROM

THE REIGN OF HENRY THE 4TH

THE DEATH OF CHARLES THE 1 ST.

BY A PARTIAL, PREJUDICED, AND IGNORANT HISTORIAN.

To Miss Austen, eldest daughter of the Rev. George
Austen, this work is inscribed with all due respect by

The Author

N.B. There will be very few Dates in this History.

THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND

HENRY the 4th

HENRY the 4th ascended the throne of England
much to his own satisfaction in the year 1399, after
having prevailed on his cousin and predecessor
Richard the 2nd, to resign it to him, and to retire for the rest
of his life to Pomfret Castle, where he happened to be mur-
dered. It is to be supposed that Henry was married, since
he had certainly four sons, but it is not in my power to inform
the Reader who was his wife. Be this as it may, he did not
live for ever, but falling ill, his son the Prince of Wales came
and took away the crown ; whereupon the King made a long
speech, for which I must refer the Reader to Shakespear's
Plays, and the Prince made a still longer. Things being thus
settled between them the King died, and was succeeded by
his son Henry who had previously beat Sir William Gas-
coigne.

HENRY the 5th

THIS Prince after he succeeded to the throne grew
quite reformed and amiable, forsaking all his dis-
sipated companions, and never thrashing Sir William
again. During his reign, Lord Cobham was burnt alive, but
I forget what for. His Majesty then turned his thoughts to
France, where he went and fought the famous Battle of Agin-
court. He afterwards married the King's daughter Catherine,
a very agreable woman by Shakespear's account. In spite of
all this however he died, and was succeeded by his son Henry.

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HENRY the 6th

1 CANNOT say much for this Monarch's sense. Nor
would I if I could, for he was a Lancastrian. I suppose
you know all about the Wars between him and the Duke
of York who was of the right side ; if you do not, you had
better read some other History, for I shall not be very diffuse
in this, meaning by it only to vent my spleen against, and
shew my Hatred to all those people whose parties or principles
do not suit with mine, and not to give information. This
King married Margaret of Anjou, a Woman whose distresses
and misfortunes were so great as almost to make me who hate
her, pity her. It was in this reign that Joan of Arc lived and
made such a row among the English. They should not have
burnt her — but they did. There were several Battles be-
tween the Yorkists and Lancastrians, in which the former (as
they ought) usually conquered. At length they were entirely
overcome ; The King was murdered — The Queen was sent
home — and Edward the 4th ascended the Throne.

EDWARD the 4th

THIS Monarch was famous only for his Beauty and
his Courage, of which the Picture we have here given
of him, and his undaunted Behaviour in marrying
one Woman while he was engaged to another, are sufficient
proofs. His Wife was Elizabeth Woodville, a Widow who,
poor Woman ! was afterwards confined in a Convent by that
Monster of Iniquity and Avarice Henry the 7th. One of
Edward's Mistresses was Jane Shore, who has had a play
written about her, but it is a tragedy and therefore not worth
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£ THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND £

reading. Having performed all these noble actions, his
Majesty died, and was succeeded by his son.

EDWARD the 5th

THIS unfortunate Prince lived so little a while that
nobody had him to draw his picture. He was mur-
dered by his Uncle's Contrivance, whose name was
Richard the 3rd.

RICHARD the 3rd

THE Character of this Prince has been in general very
severely treated by Historians, but as he was a York,
I am rather inclined to suppose him a very respectable
Man. It has indeed been confidently asserted that he killed
his two Nephews and his Wife, but it has also been declared
that he did not kill his two Nephews, which I am inclined to
beleive true ; and if this is the case, it may also be affirmed
that he did not kill his Wife, for if Perkin Warbeck was really
the Duke of York, why might not Lambert Simnel be the
Widow of Richard. Whether innocent or guilty, he did not
reign long in peace, for Henry Tudor E. of Richmond as
great a villain as ever lived, made a great fuss about getting
the Crown and having killed the King at the battle of Bos-
worth, he succeeded to it.

HENRY the 7th

THIS Monarch soon after his accession married the
Princess Elizabeth of York, by which alliance he
plainly proved that he thought his own right inferior

JANE AUSTEN

to hers, tho' he pretended to the contrary. By this Marriage
he had two sons and two daughters, the elder of which Daugh-
ters was married to the King of Scotland and had the happiness
of being grandmother to one of the first Characters in the
World. But of her, I shall have occasion to speak more at
large in future. The youngest, Mary, married first the King
of France and secondly the D. of Suffolk, by whom she had
one daughter, afterwards the Mother of Lady Jane Grey,
who tho* inferior to her lovely Cousin the Queen of Scots,
was yet an amiable young woman and famous for reading
Greek while other people were hunting. It was in the reign
of Henry the 7th that Perkin Warbeck and Lambert Simnel
before mentioned made their appearance, the former of whom
was set in the stocks, took shelter in Beaulieu Abbey, and was
beheaded with the Earl of Warwick, and the latter was taken
into the Kings kitchen. His Majesty died and was suc-
ceeded by his son Henry whose only merit was his not being
quite so bad as his daughter Elizabeth.

HENRY the 8th

IT would be an affront to my Readers were I to suppose
that they were not as well acquainted with the particulars
of this King's reign as I am myself. It will therefore be
saving them the task of reading again what they have read
before, and myself the trouble of writing what I do not per-
fectly recollect, by giving only a slight sketch of the principal
Events which marked his reign. Among these may be ranked
Cardinal Wolsey's telling the father Abbott of Leicester
Abbey that " he was come to lay his bones among them," the
reformation in Religion and the King's riding through the
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streets of London with Anna Bullen. It is however but
Justice, and my Duty to declare that this amiable Woman
was entirely innocent of the Crimes with which she was
accused, and of which her Beauty, her Elegance, and her
Sprightliness were sufficient proofs, not to mention her solemn
protestations of Innocence, the weakness of the Charges
against her, and the King's Character ; all of which add
some confirmation, tho' perhaps but slight ones when in com-
parison with those before alledged in her favour. Tho' I
do not profess giving many dates, yet as I think it proper to
give some and shall of course make choice of those which it is
most necessary for the Reader to know, I think it right to
inform him that her letter to the King was dated on the 6th
of May. The Crimes and Cruelties of this Prince, were too
numerous to be mentioned, (as this history I trust has fully
shown ;) and nothing can be said in his vindication, but that
his abolishing Religious Houses and leaving them to the ruin-
ous depredations of time has been of infinite use to the land-
scape of England in general, which probably was a principal
motive for his doing it, since otherwise why should a Man
who was of no Religion himself be at so much trouble to
abolish one which had for ages been established in the King-
dom. His Majesty's 5th Wife was the Duke of Norfolk's
Neice who, tho' universally acquitted of the crimes for which
she was beheaded, has been by many people supposed to have
led an abandoned life before her Marriage — of this however
I have many doubts, since she was a relation of that noble
Duke of Norfolk who was so warm in the Queen of Scotland's
cause, and who at last fell a victim to it. The Kings last wife
contrived to survive him, but with difficulty effected it. He
was succeeded by his only son Edward.

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EDWARD the 6th

AS this prince was only nine years old at the time of his
Father's death, he was considered by many people as
too young to govern, and the late King happening to
be of the same opinion, his mother's Brother the Duke of
Somerset was chosen Protector of the realm during his minor-
ity. This Man was on the whole of a very amiable Character,
and is somewhat of a favourite with me, tho' I would by no
means pretend to affirm that he was equal to those first of
Men Robert Earl of Essex, Delamere, or Gilpin. He was
beheaded, of which he might with reason have been proud,
had he known that such was the death of Mary Queen of
Scotland ; but as it was impossible that he should be con-
scious of what had never happened, it does not appear that
he felt particularly delighted with the manner of it. After
his decease the Duke of Northumberland had the care of the
King and the Kingdom, and performed his trust of both so
well that the King died and the Kingdom was left to his
daughter in law the Lady Jane Grey, who has been already
mentioned as reading Greek. Whether she really under-
stood that language or whether such a study proceeded only
from an excess of vanity for which I beleive she was always
rather remarkable, is uncertain. Whatever might be the
cause, she preserved the same appearance of knowledge, and
contempt of what was generally esteemed pleasure, during
the whole of her life, for she declared herself displeased with
being appointed Queen, and while conducting to the scaffold,
she wrote a sentence in Latin and another in Greek on seeing
the dead Body of her Husband accidentally passing that way.

J THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND £

MARY

THIS woman had the good luck of being advanced
to the throne of England, in spite of the superior
pretensions, Merit, and Beauty of her Cousins Mary
Queen of Scotland and Jane Grey. Nor can I pity
the Kingdom for the misfortunes they experienced during
her Reign, since they fully deserved them, for having allowed
her to succeed her Brother — which was a double peice of folly,
since they might have foreseen that as she died without child-
ren, she would be succeeded by that disgrace to humanity,
that pest of society, Elizabeth. Many were the people who
fell martyrs to the protestant Religion during her reign ; I
suppose noj; fewer than a dozen. She married Philip King
of Spain who in her sister's reign was famous for building
Armadas. She died without issue, and then the dreadful
moment came in which the destroyer of all comfort, the deceit-
ful Betrayer of trust reposed in her, and the Murderess of her
Cousin succeeded to the Throne.

TK Ttf "US tfi TU Ttf ~ttS 1& tS Iff Ttf ~OS ttS ItS Iff ~OS Iff Ttf ttf tU t& tjf tfi

ELIZABETH

IT was the peculiar misfortune of this Woman to have
bad Ministers Since wicked as she herself was, she

could not have committed such extensive mischeif, had not
these vile and abandoned Men connived at, and encouraged
her in her Crimes. I know that it has by many people been
asserted and beleived that Lord Burleigh, Sir Francis Wal-
singham, and the rest of those who filled the cheif offices of
State were deserving, experienced, and able Ministers. But
oh ! how blinded such writers and such Readers must be to

9 1

£ JANE AUSTEN £

true Merit, to Merit despised, neglected and defamed, if
they can persist in such opinions when they reflect that these
men, these boasted men were such scandals to their Country
and their sex as to allow and assist their Queen in confining
for the space of nineteen years, a Woman who if the claims of
Relationship and Merit were of no avail, yet as a Queen and
as one who condescended to place confidence in her, had
every reason to expect assistance and protection ; and at
length in allowing Elizabeth to bring this amiable Woman to
an untimely, unmerited, and scandalous Death. Can any
one if he reflects but for a moment on this blot, this everlast-
ing blot upon their understanding and their Character, allow
any praise to Lord Burleigh or Sir Francis Walsingham ?
Oh ! what must this bewitching Princess whose only freind
was then the Duke of Norfolk, and whose only ones now Mr
Whitaker, Mrs Lefroy, Mrs Knight and myself, who was
abandoned by her son, confined by her Cousin, abused, re-
proached and vilified by all, what must not her most noble
mind have suffered when informed that Elizabeth had given
orders for her Death ! Yet she bore it with a most unshaken
fortitude, firm in her mind ; constant in her Religion ; and
prepared herself to meet the cruel fate to which she was
doomed, with a magnanimity that would alone proceed from
conscious Innocence. And yet could you Reader have be-
leived it possible that some hardened and zealous Protestants
have even abused her for that steadfastness in the Catholic
Religion which reflected on her so much credit ? But this
is a striking proof of their narrow souls and prejudiced Judge-
ments who accuse her. She was executed in the Great Hall
at Fortheringay Castle (sacred Place !) on Wednesday the
8th of February 1586 — to the everlasting Reproach of
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£ THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND g

Elizabeth, her Ministers, and of England in general. It may not
be unnecessary before I entirely conclude my account of this
ill-fated Queen, to observe that she had been accused of several
crimes during the time of her reigning in Scotland, of which
I now most seriously do assure my Reader that she was entirely
innocent ; having never been guilty of anything more than
Imprudencies into which she was betrayed by the openness
of her Heart, her Youth, and her Education. Having I
trust by this assurance entirely done away every Suspicion
and every doubt which might have arisen in the Reader's
mind, from what other Historians have written of her, I shall
proceed to mention the remaining Events that marked Eliza-
beth's reign. It was about this time that Sir Francis Drake
the first English Navigator who sailed round the World, lived,
to be the ornament of his Country and his profession. Yet
great as he was, and justly celebrated as a sailor, I cannot help
foreseeing that he will be equalled in this or the next Century
by one who tho* now but young, already promises to answer
all the ardent and sanguine expectations of his Relations and
Freinds, amongst whom I may class the amiable Lady to
whom this work is dedicated, and my no less amiable self.

Though of a different profession, and shining in a different
sphere of Life, yet equally conspicuous in the Character of an
Earl y as Drake was in that of a Sailor, was Robert Devereux
Lord Essex. This unfortunate young Man was not unlike
in character to that equally unfortunate one Frederic Delamere.
The simile may be carried still farther, and Elizabeth the
torment of Essex may be compared to the Emmeline of Dela-
mere. It would be endless to recount the misfortunes of this
noble and gallant Earl. It is sufficient to say that he was be-
headed on the 25 th of Feb, after having been Lord Lieutenant

g JANE AUSTEN £

of Ireland, after having clapped his hand on his sword,
and after performing many other services to his Country.
Elizabeth did not long survive his loss, and died so miserable
that were it not an injury to the memory of Mary I should
pity her.

JAMES the ist

THOUGH this King had some faults, among which
and as the most principal, was his allowing his Mother's
death, yet considered on the whole I cannot help
liking him. He married Anne of Denmark, and had several
Children ; fortunately for him his eldest son Prince Henry
died before his father or he might have experienced the evils
which befell his unfortunate Brother.

As I am myself partial to the roman catholic religion, it is
with infinite regret that I am obliged to blame the Behaviour
of any Member of it : yet Truth being I think very excusable
in an Historian, I am necessitated to say that in this reign the
roman Catholics of England did not behave like Gentlemen
to the protestants. Their Behaviour indeed to the Royal
Family and both Houses of Parliament might justly be con-
sidered by them as very uncivil, and even Sir Henry Percy
tho' certainly the best bred man of the party, had none of
that general politeness which is so universally pleasing, as his
attentions were entirely confined to Lord Mounteagle.

Sir Walter Raleigh flourished in this and the preceeding
reign, and is by many people held in great veneration and
respect — But as he was an enemy of the noble Essex, I have
nothing to say in praise of him, and must refer all those who
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£ THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND jf

may wish to be acquainted with the particulars of his life, to
Mr Sheridan's play of the Critic, where they will find many
interesting anecdotes as well of him as of his friend Sir Chris-
topher Hatton. — His Majesty was of that amiable disposition
which inclines to Freindship, and in such points was possessed
of a keener penetration in discovering Merit than many other
people. I once heard an excellent Sharade on a Carpet, of
which the subject I am now on reminds me, and as I think
it may afford my Readers some amusement to find it out, I
shall here take the liberty of presenting it to them.

Sharade

My first is what my second was to King James the ist, and
you tread on my whole.

The principal favourites of his Majesty were Car, who
was afterwards created Earl of Somerset and whose name
perhaps may have some share in the above mentioned Sharade,
and George Villiers afterwards Duke of Buckingham. On
his Majesty's death he was succeeded by his son Charles.

CHARLES the ist

THIS amiable Monarch seems born to have suffered
misfortunes equal to those of his lovely Grandmother;
misfortunes which he could not deserve since he was
her descendant. Never certainly were there before so many
detestable Characters at one time in England as in this period
of its History ; never were amiable men so scarce. The
number of them throughout the whole Kingdom amounting
only to five, besides the inhabitants of Oxford who were
always loyal to their King and faithful to his interests. The

£ JANE AUSTEN jf

names of this noble five who never forgot the duty of the sub-
ject, or swerved from their attachment to his Majesty, were
as follows — The King himself, ever stedfast in his own sup-
port — Archbishop Laud, Earl of Strafford, Viscount Faulk-
land and Duke of Ormond, who were scarcely less strenuous
or zealous in the cause. While the Villains of the time would
make too long a list to be written or read ; I shall therefore
content myself with mentioning the leaders of the Gang.
Cromwell, Fairfax, Hampden, and Pym may be considered
as the original Causers of all the disturbances, Distresses, and
Civil Wars in which England for many years was embroiled.
In this reign as well as in that of Elizabeth, I am obliged in
spite of my attachment to the Scotch, to consider them as
equally guilty with the generality of the English, since they
dared to think differently from their Sovereign, to forget the
Adoration which as Stuarts it was their Duty to pay them, to
rebel against, dethrone and imprison the unfortunate Mary ;
to oppose, to deceive, and to sell the no less unfortunate
Charles. The Events of this Monarch's reign are too numer-
ous for my pen, and indeed the recital of any Events (except
what I make myself) is uninteresting to me ; my principal
reason for undertaking the History of England being to prove
the innocence of the Queen of Scotland, which I flatter myself
with having effectually done, and to abuse Elizabeth, tho* I
am rather fearful of having fallen short in the latter part of
my scheme. — As therefore it is not my intention to give any
particular account of the distresses into which this King was
involved through the misconduct and Cruelty of his Parlia-
ment, I shall satisfy myself with vindicating him from the
Reproach of Arbitrary and tyrannical Government with
which he has often been charged. This, I feel, is not difficult

9 6

^ THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND ^

to be done, for with one argument I am certain of satisfying
every sensible and well disposed person whose opinions have
been properly guided by a good Education — and this Argu-
ment is that he was a STUART.

Finis

Saturday Nov : 26th 1791.

A COLLECTION OF LETTERS

To Miss COOPER

Cousin

CONSCIOUS of the Charming Character which in
every Country, and every Clime in Christendom is
Cried, Concerning you, with Caution and Care I
Commend to your Charitable Criticism this Clever Collection
of Curious Comments, which have been Carefully Culled,
Collected and Classed by your Comical Cousin

The Author.

A COLLECTION OF LETTERS

LETTER the FIRST

From a MOTHER to her FREIND.

MY Children begin now to claim all my attention in
a different Manner from that in which they have
been used to receive it, as they are now arrived at
that age when it is necessary for them in some measure to
become conversant with the World. My Augusta is 17 and
her sister scarcely a twelvemonth younger. I flatter myself
that their education has been such as will not disgrace their
appearance in the World, and that they will not disgrace their
Education I have every reason to beleive. Indeed they are
sweet Girls — . Sensible yet unaffected — Accomplished yet
Easy — . Lively yet Gentle — . As their progress in every
thing they have learnt has been always the same, I am willing
to forget the difference of age, and to introduce them together
into Public. This very Evening is fixed on as their first
entree into Life, as we are to drink tea with Mrs Cope and
her Daughter. I am glad that we are to meet no one, for
my Girls sake, as it would be awkward for them to enter too
wide a Circle on the very first day. But we shall proceed
by degrees. — Tomorrow Mr Stanly's family will drink tea
with us, and perhaps the Miss Phillips's will meet them. On
Tuesday we shall pay Morning Visits — On Wednesday we
are to dine at Westbrook. On Thursday we have Company
at home. On Friday we are to be at a private Concert at Sir
John Wynna's — and on Saturday we expect Miss Dawson
to call in the Morning — which will complete my Daughters
Introduction into Life. How they will bear so much

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£ JANE AUSTEN £

dissipation I cannot imagine ; of their spirits I have no fear, I
only dread their health.

This mighty affair is now happily over, and my Girls are
out. As the moment approached for our departure, you can
have no idda how the sweet Creatures trembled with fear and
expectation. Before the Carriage drove to the door, I called
them into my dressing-room, and as soon as they were seated
thus addressed them. " My dear Girls the moment is now
arrived when I am to reap the rewards of all my Anxieties
and Labours towards you during your Education. You are
this Evening to enter a World in which you will meet with
many wonderfull Things ; Yet let me warn you against suffer-
ing yourselves to be meanly swayed by the Follies and Vices
of others, for beleive me my beloved Children that if you do

1 shall be very sorry for it." They both assured me

that they would ever remember my advice with Gratitude,
and follow it with attention ; That they were prepared to find
a World full of things to amaze and to shock them : but that
they trusted their behaviour would never give me reason to
repent the Watchful Care with which I had presided over
their infancy and formed their Minds — " " With such
expectations and such intentions (cried I) I can have nothing
to fear from you — and can chearfully conduct you to Mrs
Cope's without a fear of your being seduced by her Example,
or contaminated by her. Follies. Come, then my Children
(added I) the Carriage is driving to the door, and I will not
a moment delay the happiness you are so impatient to enjoy."
When we arrived at Warleigh, poor Augusta could scarcely
breathe, while Margaret was all Life and Rapture. " The
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£ A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

long-expected Moment is now arrived (said she) and we shall
soon be in the World." — In a few Moments we were in Mrs
Cope's parlour, where with her daughter she sate ready to
receive us. I observed with delight the impression my
Children made on them — . They were indeed two sweet,
elegant-looking Girls, and tho' somewhat abashed from
the peculiarity of their situation, yet there was an ease in
their Manners and address which could not fail of pleas-
ing — . Imagine my dear Madam how delighted I must
have been in beholding as I did, how attentively they observed
every object they saw, how disgusted with some Things, how
enchanted with others, how astonished at all ! On the whole
however they returned in raptures with the World, its In-
habitants, and Manners.

Yrs Ever A. F.

LETTER the SECOND

From a YOUNG LADY crossed in Love to her freind

WHY should this last disappointment hang so heavily
on my spirits ? Why should I feel it more, why
should it wound me deeper than those I have ex-
perienced before ? Can it be that I have a greater affection
for Willoughby than I had for his amiable predecessors ? Or
is it that our feelings become more acute from being often
wounded ? I must suppose my dear Belle that this is the
Case, since I am not conscious of being more sincerely attached
to Willoughby than I was to Neville, Fitzowen, or either of
the Crawfords, for all of whom I once felt the most lasting
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£ JANE AUSTEN £

affection that ever warmed a Woman's heart. Tell me then
dear Belle why I still sigh when I think of the faithless Edward,
or why I weep when I behold his Bride, for too surely this is
the case — . My Freinds are all alarmed for me ; They fear
my declining health ; they lament my want of spirits ; they
dread the effects of both. In hopes of releiving my melan-
choly, by directing my thoughts to other objects, they have
invited several of their freinds to spend the Christmas with
us. Lady Bridget Darkwood and her sister-in-law, Miss
Jane are expected on Friday; and Colonel Seaton's family
will be with us next week. This is all most kindly meant
by my Uncle and Cousins ; but what can the presence of a
dozen indefferent people do to me, but weary and distress
me — . I will not finish my Letter till some of our Visitors are
arrived.

Friday Evening
Lady Bridget came this morning, and with her, her sweet
sister Miss Jane — . Although I have been acquainted with
this charming Woman above fifteen Years, yet I never before
observed how lovely she is. She is now about 35, and in
spite of sickness, sorrow and Time is more blooming than I
ever saw a Girl of 1 7. I was delighted with her, the moment
she entered the house, and she appeared equally pleased with
me, attaching herself to me during the remainder of the day.
There is something so sweet, so mild in her Countenance,
that she seems more than Mortal. Her Conversation is as
bewitching as her appearance ; I could not help telling her
how much she engaged my admiration — . " Oh ! Miss Jane
(said I) — and stopped from an inability at the moment of
expressing myself as I could wish — " Oh ! Miss Jane — (I
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£ A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

repeated) — I could not think of words to suit my feelings —
She seemed waiting for my speech — . I was confused —
distressed — my thoughts were bewildered — and I could only
add — " How do you do ? " She saw and felt for my Em-
barrassment and with admirable presence of mind releived
me from it by saying — " My dear Sophia be not uneasy at
having exposed yourself — I will turn the Conversation with-
out appearing to notice it." Oh ! how I loved her for her
kindness ! "Do you ride as much as you used to do ? " said
she — . "lam advised to ride by my Physician. We have
delightful Rides round us, I have a Charming horse, am un-
commonly fond of the Amusement, replied I quite recovered
from my Confusion, and in short I ride a great deal." " You
are in the right my Love," said she. Then repeating the
following line which was an extempore and equally adapted
to recommend both Riding and Candour —

" Ride where you may, Be Candid where you can," she
added, " / rode once, but it is many years ago — She spoke
this in so low and tremulous a Voice, that I was silent — .
Struck with her Manner of speaking I could make no reply.
" I have not ridden, continued she fixing her Eyes on my face,
since I was married." I was never so surprised — " Married,
Ma'am ! " I repeated. " You may well wear that look of
astonishment, said she, since what I have said must appear
improbable to you — Yet nothing is more true than that I
once was married."

" Then why are you called Miss Jane ? "

u I married, my Sophia without the consent or knowledge
of my father the late Admiral Annesley. It was therefore
necessary to keep the secret from him and from every one, till
some fortunate opportunity might offer of revealing it — .

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£ JANE AUSTEN j|

Such an opportunity alas ! was but too soon given in the death
of my dear Capt. Dashwood — Pardon these tears, continued
Miss Jane wiping her Eyes, I owe them to my Husband's
memory. He fell my Sophia, while fighting for his Country
in America after a most happy Union of seven years — . My
Children, two sweet Boys and a Girl, who had constantly
resided with my Father and me, passing with him and with
every one as the Children of a Brother (tho' I had ever been
an only Child) had as yet been the comforts of my Life. But
no sooner had I lossed my Henry, than these sweet Creatures
fell sick and died — . Conceive dear Sophia what my feel-
ings must have been when as an Aunt I attended my Children
to their early Grave — . My Father did not survive them
many weeks — He died, poor Good old man, happily ignor-
ant to his last hour of my Marriage.'

" But did not you own it, and assume his name at your
husband's death ? "

" No ; I could not bring myself to do it ; more especially
when in my Children I lost all inducement for doing it. Lady
Bridget, and yourself are the only persons who are in the
knowledge of my having ever been either Wife or Mother.
As I could not prevail on myself to take the name of Dashwood
(a name which after my Henry's death I could never hear
without emotion) and as I was conscious of having no right
to that of Annesley, I dropt all thoughts of either, and have
made it a point of bearing only my Christian one since my
Father's death." She paused — M Oh ! my dear Miss Jane
(said I) how infinitely am I obliged to you for so entertaining
a story ! You cannot think how it has diverted me ! But
have you quite done ? "

" I have only to add my dear Sophia, that my Henry's
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£ A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

elder Brother dieing about the same time, Lady Bridget be-
came a Widow like myself, and as we had always loved each
other in idea from the high Character in which we had ever
been spoken of, though we had never met, we determined
to live together. We wrote to one another on the same
subject by the same post, so exactly did our feeling and our
actions coincide ! We both eagerly embraced the proposals
we gave and received of becoming one family, and have from
that time lived together in the greatest affection."
" And is this all ? said I, I hope you have not done."
" Indeed I have ; and did you ever hear a story more
pathetic ? "

" I never did — and it is for that reason it pleases me so
much, for when one is unhappy nothing is so delightful to
one's sensations as to hear of equal misery."
" Ah ! but my Sophia why are you unhappy ? "
" Have you not heard Madam of Willoughby's Mar-
riage ? " " But my love why lament his perfidy, when you
bore so well that of many young Men before ? " " Ah !
Madam, I was used to it then, but when Willoughby broke
his Engagements I had not been dissapointed for half a year."
" Poor Girl ! " said Miss Jane.

LETTER the THIRD

From a YOUNG LADY in distressed Circumstances to her
freind

A FEW days ago I was at a private Ball given by Mr
Ashburnham. As my Mother never goes out she
entrusted me to the care of Lady Greville who did

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£ JANE AUSTEN £

me the honour of calling for me in her way and of allowing
me to sit forwards, which is a favour about which I am very
indifferent especially as I know it is considered as confering
a great obligation on me. " So Miss Maria (said her Lady-
ship as she saw me advancing to the door of the Carriage)
you seem very smart to night — My poor Girls will appear
quite to disadvantage by you — I only hope your Mother may
not have distressed herself to set you off. Have you got a
new Gown on ? "

"Yes Ma'am." replied I with as much indifference as I
could assume.

" Aye, and a fine one too I think — (feeling it, as by her
permission I seated myself by her) I dare say it is all very
smart — But I must own, for you know I always speak my
mind, that I think it was quite a needless piece of expence —
Why could not you have worn your old striped one ? It is
not my way to find fault with people because they are poor,
for I always think that they are more to be despised and pitied
than blamed for it, especially if they cannot help it, but at
the same time I must say that in my opinion your old striped
Gown would have been quite fine enough for its Wearer —
for to tell you the truth (I always speak my mind) I am very
much afraid that one half of the people in the room will not
know whether you have a Gown on or not — But I suppose
you intend to make your fortune to night — . Well, the
sooner the better ; and I wish you success."

M Indeed Ma'am I have no such intention — "

' ' Who ever heard a young Lady own that she was a Fortune-
hunter ? " Miss Greville laughed but I am sure Ellen felt for me.

" Was your Mother gone to bed before you left her ? "
said her Ladyship,
no

{ A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

" Dear Ma'am, said Ellen it is but nine o'clock."
" True Ellen, but Candles cost money, and Mrs Williams
is too wise to be extravagant."

" She was just sitting down to supper Ma'am."
" And what had she got for supper ? " " I did not ob-
serve." " Bread and Cheese I suppose." " I should never
wish for a better supper." said Ellen. " You have never
any reason replied her Mother, as a better is always provided
for you." Miss Greville laughed excessively, as she con-
stantly does at her Mother's wit.

Such is the humiliating Situation in which I am forced to
appear while riding in her Ladyship's Coach — I dare not
be impertinent, as my Mother is always admonishing me to
be humble and patient if I wish to make my way in the world.
She insists on my accepting every invitation of Lady Greville,
or you may be certain that I would never enter either her
House, or her Coach with the disagreable certainty I always
have of being abused for my Poverty while I am in them. —
When we arrived at Ashburnham, it was nearly ten o'clock,
which was an hour and a half later than we were desired to
be there ; but Lady Greville is too fashionable (or fancies
herself to be so) to be punctual. The Dancing however was
not begun as they waited for Miss Greville. I had not been
long in the room before I was engaged to dance by Mr Ber-
nard, but just as we were going to stand up, he recollected
that his Servant had got his white Gloves, and immediately
ran out to fetch them. In the mean time the Dancing began
and Lady Greville in passing to another room went exactly
before me — She saw me and instantly stopping, said to
me though there were several people close to us,

" Hey day, Miss Maria ! What cannot you get a partner ?

g JANE AUSTEN

Poor Young Lady ! I am afraid your new Gown was put
on for nothing. But do not despair ; perhaps you may get
a hop before the Evening is over." So saying, she passed on
without hearing my repeated assurance of being engaged,
and leaving me very much provoked at being so exposed
before every one — Mr Bernard however soon returned and
by coming to me the moment he entered the room, and lead-
ing me to the Dancers my Character I hope was cleared from
the imputation Lady Greville had thrown on it, in the eyes
of all the old Ladies who had heard her speech. I soon
forgot all my vexations in the pleasure of dancing and of having
the most agreable partner in the room. As he is moreover
heir to a very large Estate I could see that Lady Greville did
not look very well pleased when she found who had been his
Choice — She was determined to mortify me, and accordingly
when we were sitting down between the dances, she came to
me with more than her usual insulting importance attended
by Miss Mason and said loud enough to be heard by half the
people in the room, " Pray Miss Maria in what way of
business was your Grandfather ? for Miss Mason and I cannot
agree whether he was a Grocer or a Bookbinder." I saw
that she wanted to mortify me, and was resolved if I possibly
could to prevent her seeing that her scheme succeeded.
" Neither Madam ; he was a Wine Merchant." " Aye, I
knew he was in some such low way — He broke did not
he ? " " I beleive not Ma'am." " Did not he abscond ? "
" I never heard that he did." " At least he died insolvent ?"
" I was never told so before." " Why, was not your Father
as poor as a Rat ? " " I fancy not." " Was not he in the
Kings Bench once ? " " I never saw him there." She gave
me such a look, and turned away in a great passion ; while I

112

^ A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

was half delighted with myself for my impertinence, and half
afraid of being thought too saucy. As Lady Greville was
extremely angry with me, she took no further notice of me all
the Evening, and indeed had I been in favour I should have
been equally neglected, as she was got into a party of great
folks and she never speaks to me when she can to anyone else.
Miss Greville was with her Mother's party at supper, but
Ellen preferred staying with the Bernards and me. We had

a very pleasant Dance and as Lady G slept all the way

home, I had a very comfortable ride.

The next day while we were at dinner Lady Greville's
Coach stopped at the door, for that is the time of day she
generally contrives it should. She sent in a message by the
servant to say that " she should not get out but that Miss
Maria must come to the Coach-door, as she wanted to speak
to her, and that she must make haste and come immedi-
ately — " " What an impertinent Message Mama ! " said
I — "Go Maria — " replied she — Accordingly I went and
was obliged to stand there at her Ladyships pleasure though
the Wind was extremely high and very cold.

" Why I think Miss Maria you are not quite so smart as
you were last night — But I did not come to examine your
dress, but to tell you that you may dine with us the day after
tomorrow — Not tomorrow, remember, do not come to-
morrow, for we expect Lord and Lady Clermont and Sir
Thomas Stanley's family — There will be no occasion for
your being very fine for I shant send the Carriage — If it
rains you may take an umbrella — " I could hardly help
laughing at hearing her give me leave to keep myself dry —
" And pray remember to be in time, for I shant wait — I hate
my Victuals over-done — But you need not come before the

R 113

£ JANE AUSTEN £

time — How does your Mother do ? She is at dinner is
not she ? " " Yes Ma'am we were in the middle of dinner
when your Ladyship came." " I am afraid you find it very
cold Maria." said Ellen. " Yes, it is an horrible East wind
— said her Mother — I assure you I can hardly bear the
window down — But you are used to be blown about by
the wind Miss Maria and that is what has made your Com-
plexion so rudely and coarse. You young Ladies who can-
not often ride in a Carriage never mind what weather you
trudge in, or how the wind shews your legs. I would not
have my Girls stand out of doors as you do in such a day as
this. But some sort of people have no feelings either of cold
or Delicacy — Well, remember that we shall expect you on
Thursday at 5 o'clock — You must tell your Maid to come
for you at night — There will be no Moon — and you will
have an horrid walk home — My compts to your Mother —
I am afraid your dinner will be cold — Drive on — " And
away she went, leaving me in a great passion with her as she
always does.

Maria Williams.

:£««!£««£«^«:£««£

LETTER the FOURTH

From a YOUNG LADY rather impertinent to her freind

WE dined yesterday with Mr Evelyn where we were
introduced to a very agreable looking Girl his
Cousin. I was extremely pleased with her appear-
ance, for added to the charms of an engaging face, her manner
and voice had something peculiarly interesting in them. So
much so, that they inspired me with a great curiosity to know
114

£ A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

the history of her Life, who were her Parents, where she
came from, and what had befallen her, for it was then only
known that she was a relation of Mr Evelyn, and that her
name was Grenville. In the evening a favourable oppor-
tunity offered to me of attempting at least to know what I
wished to know, for every one played at Cards but Mrs
Evelyn, My Mother, Dr Drayton, Miss Grenville and my-
self, and as the two former were engaged in a whispering
Conversation, and the Doctor fell asleep, we were of neces-
sity obliged to entertain each other. This was what I wished
and being determined not to remain in ignorance for want of
asking, I began the Conversation in the following Manner.
" Have you been long in Essex Ma'am ? "
" I arrived on Tuesday."
" You came from Derbyshire ? "

" No, Ma'am ! appearing surprised at my question, from
Suffolk." You will think this a good dash of mine my dear
Mary, but you know that I am not wanting for Impudence
when I have any end in veiw. " Are you pleased with the
Country Miss Grenville ? Do you find it equal to the one
you have left ? "

" Much superior Ma'am in point of Beauty." She sighed.
I longed to know for why.

" But the face of any Country however beautiful said I,
can be but a poor consolation for the loss of one's dearest
Freinds." She shook her head, as if she felt the truth of
what I said. My Curiosity was so much raised, that I was
resolved at any rate to satisfy it.

" You regret having left Suffolk then Miss Grenville ? "
" Indeed I do." " You were born there I suppose ? " " Yes
Ma'am I was and passed many happy years there — "

£ JANE AUSTEN

" That is a great comfort — said I — I hope Ma'am that
you never spent any «»happy one's there."

" Perfect Felicity is not the property of Mortals, and no
one has a right to expect uninterrupted Happiness. — Some
Misfortunes I have certainly met with."

" What Misfortunes dear Ma'am ? replied I, burning with
impatience to know every thing. " None Ma'am I hope
that have been the effect of any wilfull fault in me." " I
dare say not Ma'am, and have no doubt but that any suffer-
ings you may have experienced could arise only from the
cruelties of Relations or the Errors of Freinds." She sighed —
" You seem unhappy my dear Miss Grenville — Is it in my
power to soften your Misfortunes ? " " Tour power Ma'am
replied she extremely surprised ; it is in no ones power to make
me happy." She pronounced these words in so mournfull
and solemn an accent, that for some time I had not courage
to reply. I was actually silenced. I recovered myself how-
ever in a few moments and looking at her with all the affec-
tion I could, " My dear Miss Grenville said I, you appear
extremely young — and may probably stand in need of some
one's advice whose regard for you, joined to superior Age,
perhaps superior Judgement might authorise her to give it.
I am that person, and I now challenge you to accept the offer
I make you of my Confidence and Freindship, in return to
which I shall only ask for yours — "

" You are extremely obliging Ma'am — said she — and I
am highly flattered by your attention to me — But I am in no
difficulty, no doubt, no uncertainty of situation in which any
advice can be wanted. Whenever I am however continued
she brightening into a complaisant smile, I shall know where
to apply."

1x6

|K A COLLECTION OF LETTERS J

I bowed, but felt a good deal mortified by such a repulse ;
still however I had not given up my point. I found that by
the appearance of sentiment and Freindship nothing was to
be gained and determined therefore to renew my attacks by
Questions and suppositions. " Do you intend staying long
in this part of England Miss Grenville ? "
" Yes Ma'am, some time I beleive."
" But how will Mr and Mrs Grenville bear your absence?"
" They are neither of them alive Ma'am."
This was an answer I did not expect — I was quite silenced,
and never felt so awkward in my Life .

2£2£2X222£X2£2£2222223£

LETTER the FIFTH

From a YOUNG LADY very much in love to her Freind

MY Uncle gets more stingy, my Aunt more particular,
and I more in love every day. What shall we all
be at this rate by the end of the year ! I had this
morning the happiness of receiving the following Letter
from my dear Musgrove.

Sackville St: Jan:ry 7th
It is a month to day since I first beheld my lovely Hen-
rietta, and the sacred anniversary must and shall be kept in a
manner becoming the day — by writing to her. Never shall
I forget the moment when her Beauties first broke on my
sight — No time as you well know can erase it from my Mem-
ory. It was at Lady Scudamores. Happy Lady Scudamore
to live within a mile of the divine Henrietta ! When the
lovely Creature first entered the room, oh ! what were my

117

£ JANE AUSTEN

sensations ? The sight of you was like the sight of a wonder-
ful fine Thing. I started — I gazed at her with admiration —
She appeared every moment more Charming, and the un-
fortunate Musgrove became a captive to your Charms before
I had time to look about me. Yes Madam, I had the happi-
ness of adoring you, an happiness for which I cannot be too
grateful. " What said he to himself is Musgrove allowed
to die for Henrietta ? Enviable Mortal ! and may he pine
for her who is the object of universal admiration, who is
adored by a Colonel, and toasted by a Baronet ! Adorable
Henrietta how beautiful you are ! I declare you are quite
divine ! You are more than Mortal. You are an Angel.
You are Venus herself. In short Madam you are the prettiest
Girl I ever saw in my Life — and her Beauty is encreased in
her Musgroves Eyes, by permitting him to love her and
allowing me to hope. And ah ! Angelic Miss Henrietta
Heaven is my witness how ardently I do hope for the death
of your villanous Uncle and his abandoned Wife, since my
fair one will not consent to be mine till their decease has
placed her in affluence above what my fortune can procure — .
Though it is an improvable Estate — . Cruel Henrietta to
persist in such a resolution ! I am at present with my sister
where I mean to continue till my own house which tho' an
excellent one is at present somewhat out of repair, is ready to
receive me. Amiable princess of my Heart farewell — Of
that Heart which trembles while it signs itself your most
ardent Admirer and devoted humble serv? •

T. Musgrove.

There is a pattern for a Love-letter Matilda ! Did you
ever read such a master-piece of Writing ? Such sense, such
III

£ A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

sentiment, such purity of Thought, such flow of Language
and such unfeigned Love in one sheet ? No, never I can
answer for it, since a Musgrove is not to be met with by every
Girl. Oh ! how I long to be with him ! I intend to send
him the following in answer to his Letter tomorrow.

My dearest Musgrove . Words cannot express how

happy your Letter made me ; I thought I should have cried
for joy, for I love you better than any body in the World. I
think you the most amiable, and the handsomest Man in
England, and so to be sure you are. I never read so sweet a
Letter in my Life. Do write me another just like it, and
tell me you are in love with me in every other line. I quite
die to see you. How shall we manage to see one another ?
for we are so much in love that we cannot live asunder. Oh !
my dear Musgrove you cannot think how impatiently I wait
for the death of my Uncle and Aunt — If they will not Die
soon, I beleive I shall run mad, for I get more in love with
you every day of my Life.

How happy your Sister is to enjoy the pleasure of your
Company in her house, and how happy every body in London
must be because you are there. I hope you will be so kind
as to write to me again soon, for I never read such sweet
Letters as yours. I am my dearest Musgrove most truly and
faithfully yours for ever and ever

Henrietta Halton.

I hope he will like my answer ; it is as good a one as I can
write though nothing to his ; Indeed I had always heard
what a dab he was at a Love-letter. I saw him you know
for the first time at Lady Scudamores — And when I saw her
Ladyship afterwards she asked me how I liked her Cousin
Musgrove ?

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£ JANE AUSTEN JJ

" Why upon my word said I, I think he is a very hand-
some young Man."

"lam glad you think so replied she, for he is distractedly
in love with you."

" Law ! Lady Scudamore said I, how can you talk so
ridiculously ? "

" Nay, t'is very true answered she, I assure you, for he was
in love with you from the first moment he beheld you."

" I wish it may be true said I, for that is the only kind of
love I would give a farthing for — There is some sense in
being in love at first sight."

" Well, I give you Joy of your conquest, replied Lady
Scudamore, and I beleive it to have been a very complete one ;
I am sure it is not a contemptible one, for my Cousin is a
charming young fellow, has seen a great deal of the World,
and writes the best Love-letters I ever read."

This made me very happy, and I was excessively pleased
with my conquest. However, I thought it was proper to
give myself a few Airs — so I said to her —

" This is all very pretty Lady Scudamore, but you know
that we young Ladies who are Heiresses must not throw our-
selves away upon Men who have no fortune at all."

" My dear Miss Halton said she, I am as much convinced
of that as you can be, and I do assure you that I should be the
last person to encourage your marrying anyone who had not
some pretensions to expect a fortune with you. Mr Mus-
grove is so far from being poor that he has an estate of several
hundreds an year which is capable of great Improvement,
and an excellent House, though at present it is not quite in
repair."

" If that is the case replied I, I have nothing more to say
1 20

£A COLLECTION OF LETTERS J

against him, and if as you say he is an informed young Man
and can write a good Love-letter, I am sure I have no reason
to find fault with him for admiring me, tho' perhaps I may
not marry him for all that Lady Scudamore."

" You are certainly under no obligation to marry him
answered her Ladyship, except that which love himself wiil
dictate to you, for if I am not greatly mistaken you are at this
very moment unknown to yourself, cherishing a most tender
affection for him."

" Law, Lady Scudamore replied I blushing how can you
think of such a thing ? "

" Because every look, every word betrays it, answered she ;
Come my dear Henrietta, consider me as a freind, and be
sincere with me — Do not you prefer Mr Musgrove to any
man of your acquaintance ? "

" Pray do not ask me such questions Lady Scudamore,
said I turning away my head, for it is not fit for me to answer
them."

" Nay my Love replied she, now you confirm my sus-
picions. But why Henrietta should you be ashamed to own
a well-placed Love, or why refuse to confide in me ? "

" I am not ashamed to own it ; said I taking Courage. I
do not refuse to confide in you or blush to say that I do love
your cousin Mr Musgrove, that I am sincerely attached to
him, for it is no disgrace to love a handsome Man. If he
were plain indeed I might have had reason to be ashamed of
a passion which must have been mean since the object would
have been unworthy. But with such a figure and face, and
such beautiful hair as your Cousin has, why should I blush to
own that such superior merit has made an impression on me."

" My sweet Girl (said Lady Scudamore embracing me

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£ JANE AUSTEN £

with great affection) what a delicate way of thinking you have
in these matters, and what a quick discernment for one of
your years ! Oh ! how I honour you for such Noble Senti-
ments ! "

" Do you Ma'am ? said I ; You are vastly obliging. But
pray Lady Scudamore did your Cousin himself tell you of his
affection for me ? I shall like him the better if he did, for
what is a Lover without a Confidante ? "

" Oh ! my Love replied she, you were born for each other.
Every word you say more deeply convinces me that your
Minds are actuated by the invisible power of simpathy, for
your opinions and sentiments so exactly coincide. Nay, the
colour of your Hair is not very different. Yes my dear Girl,
the poor despairing Musgrove did reveal to me the story of
his Love — . Nor was I surprised at it — I know not how it
was, but I had a kind of presentiment that he would be in
love with you."

" Well, but how did he break it to you ? "

M It was not till after supper. We were sitting round the
fire together talking on indifferent subjects, though to say
the truth the Conversation was cheifly on my side for he was
thoughtful and silent, when on a sudden he interrupted me
in the midst of something I was saying, by exclaiming in a
most Theatrical tone —

Yes I'm in love I feel it now

And Henrietta Halton has undone me

" Oh ! What a sweet way replied I, of declaring his
Passion ! To make such a couple of charming lines about
me ! What a pity it is that they are not in rhime ! "

" I am very glad you like it answered she ; To be sure
there was a great deal of Taste in it. And are you in love

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X A COLLECTION OF LETTERS £

with her, Cousin ? said I. I am very sorry for it, for unex-
ceptionable as you are in every respect, with a pretty Estate
capable of Great improvements, and an excellent House tho'
somewhat out of repair, yet who can hope to aspire with
success to the adorable Henrietta who has had an offer from
a Colonel and been toasted by a Baronet " — " That I have — "
cried I. Lady Scudamore continued. " Ah dear Cousin
replied he, I am so well convinced of the little Chance I can
have of winning her who is adored by thousands, that I need
no assurances of yours to make me more thoroughly so. Yet
surely neither you or the fair Henrietta herself will deny me
the exquisite Gratification of dieing for her, of falling a victim
to her Charms. And when I am dead " — continued her

" Oh Lady Scudamore, said I wiping my eyes, that such
a sweet Creature should talk of dieing ! "

" It is an affecting Circumstance indeed, replied Lady
Scudamore." " When I am dead said he, let me be carried
and lain at her feet, and perhaps she may not disdain to drop
a pitying tear on my poor remains."

" Dear Lady Scudamore interrupted I, say no more on this
affecting subject. I cannot bear it."

" Oh ! how I admire the sweet sensibility of your Soul,
and as I would not for Worlds wound it too deeply, I will be
silent."

" Pray go on." said I. She did so.

' ■ And then added he, Ah ! Cousin imagine what my trans-
ports will be when I feel the dear precious drops trickle on
my face ! Who would not die to haste such extacy ! And
when I am interred, may the divine Henrietta bless some
happier Youth with her affection, May he be as tenderly
attached to her as the hapless Musgrove and while he crumbles

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to dust, May they live an example of Felicity in the Conjugal
state ! "

Did you ever hear any thing so pathetic ? What a charm-
ing wish, to be lain at my feet when he was dead ! Oh !
what an exalted mind he must have to be capable of such a
wish ! Lady Scudamore went on.

" Ah ! my dear Cousin replied I to him, such noble be-
haviour as this, must melt the heart of any woman however
obdurate it may naturally be ; and could the divine Hen-
rietta but hear your generous wishes for her happiness, all
gentle as is her mind, I have not a doubt but that she would
pity your affection and endeavour to return it." " Oh !
Cousin answered he, do not endeavour to raise my hopes by
such flattering assurances. No, I cannot hope to please this
angel of a Woman, and the only thing which remains for me
to do, is to die." " True Love is ever desponding replied I,
but I my dear Tom will give you even greater hopes of con-
quering this fair one's heart, than I have yet given you, by
assuring you that I watched her with the strictest attention
during the whole day, and could plainly discover that she
cherishes in her bosom though unknown to herself, a most
tender affection for you."

" Dear Lady Scudamore cried I, This is more than I ever
knew ! "

" Did not I say that it was unknown to yourself? I did
not, continued I to him, encourage you by saying this at first,
that surprise might render the pleasure still Greater." " No
Cousin replied he in a languid voice, nothing will convince
me that / can have touched the heart of Henrietta Halton,
and if you are deceived yourself, do not attempt deceiving
me." " In short my Love it was the work of some hours for
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g A COLLECTION OF LETTERS^

me to persuade the poor despairing Youth that you had really
a preference for him ; but when at last he could no longer
deny the force of my arguments, or discredit what I told him,
his transports, his Raptures, his Extacies are beyond my power
to describe."

" Oh ! the dear Creature, cried I, how passionately he loves
me ! But dear Lady Scudamore did you tell him that I was
totally dependant on my Uncle and Aunt ? "

" Yes, I told him every thing."

" And what did he say."

" He exclaimed with virulence against Uncles and Aunts ;
Accused the laws of England for allowing them to possess
their Estates when wanted by their Nephews or Neices, and
wished he were in the House of Commons, that he might
reform the Legislature, and rectify all its abuses."

" Oh ! the sweet Man ! What a spirit he has ! " said I.

" He could not flatter himself he added, that the adorable
Henrietta would condescend for his sak t to resign those Lux-
uries and that splendor to which she had been used, and accept
only in exchange the Comforts and Elegancies which his
limited Income could afford her, even supposing that his
house were in Readiness to receive her. I told him that it
could not be expected that she would ; it would be doing her
an injustice to suppose her capable of giving up the power
she now possesses and so nobly uses of doing such extensive
Good to the poorer part of her fellow Creatures, merely for
the gratification of you and herself."

" To be sure said I, I am very Charitable every now and
then. And what did Mr Musgrove say to this ? "

" He replied that he was under a melancholy necessity of
owning the truth of what I said, and that therefore if he should

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^ JANE AUSTEN £

be the happy Creature destined to be the Husband of the
Beautiful Henrietta he must bring himself to wait, however
impatiently, for the fortunate day, when she might be freed
from the power of worthless Relations and able to bestow
herself on him."

What a noble Creature he is ! Oh ! Matilda what a for-
tunate one I am, who am to be his Wife ! My Aunt is call-
ing me to come and make the pies, so adeiu my dear freind,

and beleive me yours etc

H. Halton.
Finis.

126

SCRAPS

To Miss FANNY CATHERINE AUSTEN

My dear Neice

AS I am prevented by the great distance between
Rowling and Steventon from superintending your
Education myself, the care of which will probably
on that account devolve on your Father and Mother, I think
it is my particular Duty to prevent your feeling as much as
possible the want of my personal instructions, by addressing
to you on paper my Opinions and Admonitions on the con-
duct of Young Women, which you will find expressed in the
following pages. —

I am my dear Neice

Your affectionate Aunt

The Author.

££SCRAPS££

THE FEMALE PHILOSOPHER
A LETTER

My dear Louisa

YOUR friend Mr Millar called upon us yesterday in
his way to Bath, whither he is going for his health;
two of his daughters were with him, but the eldest
and the three Boys are with their Mother in Sussex. Though
you have often told me that Miss Millar was remarkably
handsome, you never mentioned anything of her Sisters'
beauty; yet they are certainly extremely pretty. I'll give
you their description. — Julia is eighteen; with a countenance
in which Modesty, Sense and Dignity are happily blended,
she has a form which at once presents you with Grace, Ele-
gance and Symmetry. Charlotte who is just sixteen is shorter
than her Sister, and though her figure cannot boast the easy
dignity of Julia's, yet it has a pleasing plumpness which is in
a different way as estimable. She is fair and her face is ex-
pressive sometimes of softness the most bewitching, and at
others of Vivacity the most striking. She appears to have
infinite Wit and a good humour unalterable ; her conver-
sation during the half hour they set with us, was replete with
humourous sallies, Bonmots and repartees ; while the sensible,
the amiable Julia uttered sentiments of Morality worthy of a
heart like her own. Mr Millar appeared to answer the
character I had always received of him. My Father met
him with that look of Love, that social Shake, and cordial
kiss which marked his gladness at beholding an old and valued
freind from whom thro' various circumstances he had been

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g JANE AUSTEN £

separated nearly twenty years. Mr Millar observed (and
very justly too) that many events had befallen each during
that interval of time, which gave occasion to the lovely Julia
for making most sensible reflections on the many changes in
their situation which so long a period had occasioned, on the
advantages of some, and the disadvantages of others. From
this subject she made a short digression to the instability of
human pleasures and the uncertainty of their duration, which
led her to observe that all earthly Joys must be imperfect.
She was proceeding to illustrate this doctrine by examples
from the Lives of great Men when the Carriage came to the
Door and the amiable Moralist with her Father and Sister
was obliged to depart ; but not without a promise of spending
five or six months with us on their return. We of course
mentioned you, and I assure you that ample Justice was done
to your Merits by all. " Louisa Clarke (said I) is in general
a very pleasant Girl, yet sometimes her good humour is
clouded by Peevishness, Envy and Spite. She neither wants
Understanding or is without some pretensions to Beauty, but
these are so very trifling, that the value she sets on her personal
charms, and the adoration she expects them to be offered are
at once a striking example of her vanity, her pride, and her
folly." So said I, and to my opinion everyone added weight
by the concurrence of their own.

Your affec: te

Arabella Smythe.

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jg SCRAPS g

THE FIRST ACT OF A COMEDY

Characters

Popgun Maria

Charles Pistolletta

Postilion Hostess

Chorus of ploughboys Cook

and and

Strephon Chloe

Scene — an Inn
Enter Hostess, Charles, Maria, and Cook.

Hostess to Maria) If the gentry in the Lion should want
beds, shew them number 9.

Maria) Yes Mistress. — exit Maria

Hostess to Cook) If their Honours in the Moon ask for the
bill of fare, give it them.

Cook) I wull, I wull. exit Cook.

Hostess to Charles) If their Ladyships in the Sun ring their
Bell — answer it.

Charles) Yes Madam. Exeunt Severally.

Scene changes to the Moon, and discovers
Popgun and Pistoletta.

Pistoletta) Pray papa how far is it to London ?

Popgun) My Girl, my Darling, my favourite of

all my Children, who art the picture of
thy poor Mother who died two months
ago, with whom I am going to Town
to marry to Strephon, and to whom I
mean to bequeath my whole Estate, it
wants seven Miles.

133

^ JANE AUSTEN g

Scene changes to the Sun —
Enter Chloe and a chorus of ploughboys.

Chloe) Where am I ? At Hounslow. — Where

go I ? To London — . What to do ?
To be married — . Unto whom ? Unto
Strephon. Who is he ? A Youth.
Then I will sing a song.

Song
I go to Town
And when I come down,
I shall be married to Streephon*
And that to me will be fun.

Chorus) Be fun, be fun, be fun,

And that to me will be fun.

Enter Cook —
Cook) Here is the bill of fare.

Chloe reads) 2 Ducks, a leg of beef, a stinking partridge,

and a tart. — I will have the leg of beef
and the partridge.

exit Cook.
And now I will sing another song.

Song —
I am going to have my dinner,
After which I shan't be thinner,
I wish I had here Strephon
For he would carve the partridge if it should
be a tough one.

* Note the two e's.
134

£ SCRAPS £

Chorus)

Tough one, tough one, tough one
For he would carve the partridge if it
Should be a tough one.

Exit Chloe and Chorus. —

Scene changes to the inside of the Lion.
Enter Strephon and Postilion.

Streph:) You drove me from Staines to this place,

from whence I mean to go to Town to
marry Chloe. How much is your due t

Post:) Eighteen pence.

Streph:) Alas, my freind, I have but a bad guinea

with which I mean to support myself in
Town. But I will pawn to you an
undirected Letter that I received from
Chloe.

Post:) Sir, I accept your offer.

End of the first Act.

*35

£ JANE AUSTEN

A LETTER from a YOUNG LADY, whose feelings being
too strong for her Judgement led her into the commission of
Errors which her Heart disapproved.

MANY have been the cares and vicissitudes of my
past life, my beloved Ellinor, and the only conso-
lation I feel for their bitterness is that on a close
examination of my conduct, I am convinced that I have
strictly deserved them. I murdered my father at a very early
period of my Life, I have since murdered my Mother, and
I am now going to murder my Sister. I have changed my
religion so often that at present I have not an idea of any left.
I have been a perjured witness in every public tryal for these
last twelve years ; and I have forged my own Will. In short
there is scarcely a crime that I have not committed — But
I am now going to reform. Colonel Martin of the Horse
guards has paid his Addresses to me, and we are to be married
in a few days. As there is something singular in our Court-
ship, I will give you an account of it. Col: Martin is the
second son of the late Sir John Martin who died immensely
rich, but bequeathing only one hundred thousand pound
apeice to his three younger Children, left the bulk of his for-
tune, about eight Million to the present Sir Thomas. Upon
his small pittance the Colonel lived tolerably contented for
nearly four months when he took it into his head to determine
on getting the whole of his eldest Brother's Estate. A new
will was forged and the Colonel produced it in Court — but
nobody would swear to it's being the right will except him-
self, and he had sworn so much that Nobody beleived him.
At that moment I happened to be passing by the door of the
Court, and was beckoned in by the Judge who told the Colonel
136

^ SCRAPS ^

that I was a Lady ready to witness anything for the cause of
Justice, and advised him to apply to me. In short the Affair
was soon adjusted. The Colonel and I swore to its' being
the right will, and Sir Thomas has been obliged to resign all
his illgotten wealth. The Colonel in gratitude waited on me
the next day with an offer of his hand — . I am now going
to murder my Sister.

Yours Ever, Anna Parker.

137

£ JANE AUSTEN

A TOUR THROUGH WALES—
in a LETTER from a YOUNG LADY—

My dear Clara

1HAVE been so long on the ramble that I have not till
now had it in my power to thank you for your Letter — .
We left our dear home on last Monday month ; and pro-
ceeded on our tour through Wales, which is a principality
contiguous to England and gives the title to the Prince of
Wales. We travelled on horseback by preference. My
Mother rode upon our little poney and Fanny and I walked
by her side or rather ran, for my Mother is so fond of riding
fast that she galloped all the way. You may be sure that we
were in a fine perspiration when we came to our place of rest-
ing. Fanny has taken a great many Drawings of the Country,
which are very beautiful, tho' perhaps not such exact resem-
blances as might be wished, from their being taken as she ran
along. It would astonish you to see all the Shoes we wore
out in our Tour. We determined to take a good Stock with
us and therefore each took a pair of our own besides those we
set off in. However we were obliged to have them both
capped and heelpeiced at Carmarthen, and at last when they
were quite gone, Mama was so kind as to lend us a pair of blue
Sattin Slippers, of which we each took one and hopped home

from Hereford delightfully

I am your ever affectionate

Elizabeth Johnson.

i 3 8

£ SCRAPS {

A TALE.

A GENTLEMAN whose family name I shall conceal,
bought a small Cottage in Pembrokeshire about two
years ago. This daring Action was suggested to him
by his elder Brother who promised to furnish two rooms and
a Closet for him, provided he would take a small house near
the borders of an extensive Forest, and about three Miles
from the Sea. Wilhelminus gladly accepted the offer and
continued for some time searching after such a retreat when
he was one morning agreably releived from his suspence by
reading this advertisement in a Newspaper.

To be Lett
A Neat Cottage on the borders of an extensive forest and about
three Miles from the Sea. It is ready furnished except two
rooms and a Closet.

The delighted Wilhelminus posted away immediately to
his brother, and shewed him the advertisement. Robertus
congratulated him and sent him in his Carriage to take pos-
session of the Cottage. After travelling for three days and
six nights without stopping, they arrived at the Forest and
following a track which led by it's side down a steep Hill over
which ten Rivulets meandered, they reached the Cottage in
half an hour. Wilhelminus alighted, and after knocking for
some time without receiving any answer or hearing any one
stir within, he opened the door which was fastened only by a
wooden latch and entered a small room, which he immedi-
ately perceived to be one of the two that were unfurnished —
From thence he proceeded into a Closet equally bare. A pair
of stairs that went out of it led him into a room above, no less
destitute, and these apartments he found composed the whole

139

£ JANE AUSTEN

of the House. He was by no means displeased with this
discovery, as he had the comfort of reflecting that he should
not be obliged to lay out anything on furniture himself — .
He returned immediately to his Brother, who took him the
next day to every Shop in Town, and bought what ever was
requisite to furnish the two rooms and the Closet, In a few
days everything was completed, and Wilhelminus returned
to take possession of his Cottage. Robertus accompanied
him, with his Lady the amiable Cecilia and her two lovely
Sisters Arabella and Marina to whom Wilhelminus was
tenderly attached, and a large number of Attendants. — An
ordinary Genius might probably have been embarrassed, in
endeavouring to accomodate so large a party, but Wilhelminus
with admirable presence of mind gave orders for the imme-
diate erection of two noble Tents in an open spot in the
Forest adjoining to the house. Their Construction was both
simple and elegant — A couple of old blankets, each sup-
ported by four sticks, gave a striking proof of that taste for
architecture and that happy ease in overcoming difficulties
which were some of Wilhelminus's most striking Virtues.
Finis

140

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4034 Love & friendship

1922

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The Complete Works of Jane Austen - Part 7