Nor are the
circumstances
which she permits herself to use less genu-
ine than her people.
ine than her people.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v02 - Aqu to Bag
, § 45.
)
Search thou thy heart! Therein is the fountain of good! Do
thou but dig, and abundantly the stream shall gush forth. (Book
vii. , § 59. )
Be not unmindful of the graces of life. Let thy body be
stalwart, yet not ungainly either in motion or in repose. Let not
thy face alone, but thy whole body, make manifest the alert-
ness of thy mind. Yet let all this be without affectation. (Book
vii. , § 60. )
Thy breath is part of the all-encircling air, and is one with
it. Let thy mind be part, no less, of that Supreme Mind com-
prehending all things. For verily, to him who is willing to be
inspired thereby, the Supreme Mind flows through all things and
permeates all things as truly as the air exists for him who will
but breathe. (Book viii. , § 54-)
Men are created that they may live for each other. Teach
them to be better or bear with them as they are. (Book viii. ,
$ 59. )
Write no more, Antoninus, about what a good man is or what
he ought to do. Be a good man. (Book x. , § 16. )
Look steadfastly at any created thing. See! it is changing,
melting into corruption, and ready to be dissolved. In its essen-
tial nature, it was born but to die. (Book x. , § 18. )
11-66
## p. 1042 (#468) ###########################################
1042
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS
Co-workers are we all, toward one result. Some, consciously
and of set purpose; others, unwittingly even as men who sleep,
- of whom Heraclitus (I think it is he) says they also are co-
workers in the events of the Universe. In diverse fashion also
men work; and abundantly, too, work the fault-finders and the
hinderers, for even of such as these the Universe hath need.
It rests then with thee to determine with what workers thou wilt
place thyself; for He who governs all things will without failure
place thee at thy proper task, and will welcome thee to some
station among those who work and act together. (Book vi. , § 42. )
-
Unconstrained and in supreme joyousness of soul thou mayest
live though all men revile thee as they list, and though wild
beasts rend in pieces the unworthy garment-thy body. For
what prevents thee, in the midst of all this, from keeping thyself
in profound calm, with a true judgment of thy surroundings and
a helpful knowledge of the things that are seen? So that the
Judgment may say to whatever presents itself, "In truth this is
what thou really art, howsoever thou appearest to men;" and thy
Knowledge may say to whatsoever may come beneath its vision,
"Thee I sought; for whatever presents itself to me is fit material
for nobility in personal thought and public conduct; in short,
for skill in work for man or for God. " For all things which
befall us are related to God or to man, and are not new to us
or hard to work upon, but familiar and serviceable. (Book vii. ,
§ 68. )
When thou art annoyed at some one's impudence, straight-
way ask thyself, "Is it possible that there should be no impudent
men in the world? " It is impossible. Ask not then the impos-
sible. For such an one is but one of these impudent persons
who needs must be in the world. Keep before thee like con-
clusions also concerning the rascal, the untrustworthy one, and
all evil-doers. Then, when it is quite clear to thy mind that
such men must needs exist, thou shalt be the more forgiving
toward each one of their number. This also will aid thee to
observe, whensoever occasion comes, what power for good, Nature
hath given to man to frustrate such viciousness. She hath be-
stowed upon man Patience as an antidote to the stupid man
and against another man some other power for good. Besides,
## p. 1043 (#469) ###########################################
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS
1043
it is wholly in thine own power to teach new things to the one
who hath erred, for every one who errs hath but missed the
appointed path and wandered away. Reflect, and thou wilt dis-
cover that no one of these with whom thou art annoyed hath
done aught to debase thy mind, and that is the only real evil that
can befall thee.
Moreover, wherein is it wicked or surprising that the ignor-
ant man should act ignorantly? Is not the error really thine
own in not foreseeing that such an one would do as he did?
If thou hadst but taken thought thou wouldst have known he
would be prone to err, and it is only because thou hast forgot-
ten to use thy Reason that thou art surprised at his deed. Above
all, when thou condemnest another as untruthful, examine thyself
closely; for upon thee rests the blame, in that thou dost trust
to such an one to keep his promise. If thou didst bestow upon
him thy bounty, thine is the blame not to have given it freely,
and without expectation of good to thee, save the doing of the
act itself. What more dost thou wish than to do good to man?
Doth not this suffice,- that thou hast done what conforms to thy
true nature? Must thou then have a reward, as though the
eyes demanded pay for seeing or the feet for walking? For
even as these are formed for such work, and by co-operating
in their distinctive duty come into their own, even so man (by
his real nature disposed to do good), when he hath done some
good deed, or in any other way furthered the Commonweal, acts
according to his own nature, and in so doing hath all that is
truly his own. (Book ix. , §42. )
O Man, thou hast been a citizen of this great State, the Uni-
verse! What matters what thy prescribed time hath been, five
years or three? What the law prescribes is just to every one.
Why complain, then, if thou art sent away from the State,
not by a tyrant or an unjust judge, but by Nature who led thee.
thither,― even as the manager excuses from the stage an actor
whom he hath employed?
"But I have played three acts only? "
True. But in the drama of thy life three acts conclude the
play. For what its conclusion shall be, He determines who
created it and now ends it; and with either of these thou hast
naught to do. Depart thou, then, well pleased; for He who dis-
misses thee is well pleased also. (Book xii. , § 36. )
## p. 1044 (#470) ###########################################
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS
1044
BE NOT disquieted lest, in the days to come, some misadvent-
ure befall thee. The Reason which now sufficeth thee will then
be with thee, should there be the need. (Book vii. , § 8. )
TO THE wise man the dictates of Reason seem the instincts
of Nature. (Book vii. , § 11. )
MY TRUE self- the philosophic mind- hath but one dread:
the dread lest I do something unworthy of a man, or that I may
act in an unseemly way or at an improper time. (Book vii. , § 20. )
ACCEPT with joy the Fate that befalls thee. Thine it is and
not another's. What then could be better for thee? (Book vii. ,
$ 57. )
SEE to it that thou art humane to those who are not humane.
(Book vii. , $65. )
HE WHO does not act, often commits as great a wrong as he
who acts. (Book ix. , §5. )
THE wrong that another has done - let alone! Add not to it
thine own. (Book ix. , § 20. )
How powerful is man! He is able to do all that God wishes
him to do. He is able to accept all that God sends upon him.
(Book xii. , 11. )
A LAMP sends forth its light until it is completely extinguished.
Shall Truth and Justice and Equanimity suffer abatement in thee
until all are extinguished in death? (Book xii. , § 15. )
## p. 1045 (#471) ###########################################
1045
JANE AUSTEN
(1775-1817)
HE biography of one of the greatest English novelists might
Sbe written in a dozen lines, so simple, so tranquil, so for-
Gtunate was her life. Jane Austen, the second daughter of
an English clergyman, was born at Steventon, in Hampshire, in 1775.
Her father had been known at Oxford as "the handsome proctor,"
and all his children inherited good looks. He was accomplished
enough to fit his boys for the University, and the atmosphere of the
household was that of culture, good breeding, and healthy fun. Mrs.
Austen was a clever woman, full of epi-
gram and humor in conversation, and rather
famous in her own coterie for improvised
verses and satirical hits at her friends.
The elder daughter, Cassandra, adored by
Jane, who was three years her junior, seems
to have had a rare balance and common-
sense which exercised great influence over
the more brilliant younger sister. Their
mother declared that of the two girls. Cas-
sandra had the merit of having her temper
always under her control; and Jane the
happiness of a temper that never required
to be commanded.
JANE AUSTEN
From her cradle, Jane Austen was used to hearing agreeable
household talk, and the freest personal criticism on the men and
women who made up her small, secluded world. The family circum-
stances were easy, and the family friendliness unlimited,- conditions
determining, perhaps, the cheerful tone, the unexciting course, the
sly fun and good-fellowship of her stories.
It was in this Steventon rectory, in the family room where the
boys might be building their toy boats, or the parish poor folk com-
plaining to "passon's madam," or the county ladies paying visits of
ceremony, in monstrous muffs, heelless slippers laced over open-
worked silk stockings, short flounced skirts, and lutestring pelisses
trimmed with "Irish," or where tradesmen might be explaining their
delinquencies, or farmers' wives growing voluble over foxes and
young chickens-it was in the midst of this busy and noisy publicity,
where nobody respected her employment, and where she was inter-
rupted twenty times in an hour, that the shrewd and smiling social
## p. 1046 (#472) ###########################################
1046
JANE AUSTEN
critic managed, before she was twenty-one, to write her famous
'Pride and Prejudice. ' Here too 'Sense and Sensibility' was finished
in 1797, and 'Northanger Abbey' in 1798. The first of these, submitted
to a London publisher, was declined as unavailable, by return of
post. The second, the gay and mocking 'Northanger Abbey,' was
sold to a Bath bookseller for £10, and several years later bought
back again, still unpublished, by one of Miss Austen's brothers. For
the third story she seems not even to have sought a publisher.
These three books, all written before she was twenty-five, were evi-
dently the employment and delight of her leisure. The serious busi-
ness of life was that which occupied other pretty girls of her time
and her social position,-dressing, dancing, flirting, learning a new
stitch at the embroidery frame, or a new air on "the instrument";
while all the time she was observing, with those soft hazel eyes of
hers, what honest Nym calls the "humors" of the world about her.
In 1801, the family removed to Bath, then the most fashionable
watering-place in England. The gay life of the brilliant little city,
the etiquette of the Pump Room and the Assemblies, regulated by
the autocratic Beau Nash, the drives, the routs, the card parties, the
toilets, the shops, the Parade, the general frivolity, pretension, and
display of the eighteenth century Vanity Fair, had already been
studied by the good-natured satirist on occasional visits, and already
immortalized in the swiftly changing comedy scenes of Northanger
Abbey. ' But they tickled her fancy none the less, now that she
lived among them, and she made use of them again in her later
novel, Persuasion. '
For a period of eight years, spent in Bath and in Southampton,
Miss Austen wrote nothing save some fragments of 'Lady Susan'
and The Watsons,' neither of them of great importance. In 1809
the lessened household, composed of the mother and her two daugh-
ters only, removed to the village of Chawton, on the estate of Mrs.
Austen's third son; and here, in a rustic cottage, now become a place
of pilgrimage, Jane Austen again took up her pen. She rewrote
'Pride and Prejudice,' she revised 'Sense and Sensibility,' and be-
tween February 1811 and August 1816 she completed Mansfield
Park,' 'Emma,' and 'Persuasion. ' At Chawton, as at Steventon, she
had no study, and her stories were written on a little mahogany desk
near a window in the family sitting-room, where she must often have
been interrupted by the prototypes of her Mrs. Allen, Mrs. Bennet,
Miss Bates, Mr. Collins, or Mrs. Norris. When at last she began to
publish, her stories appeared in rapid succession: 'Sense and Sensi-
bility' in 1811; 'Pride and Prejudice' early in 1813; 'Mansfield Park'
in 1814; Emma' in 1816; Northanger Abbey' and 'Persuasion' in
1818, the year following her death. In January 1813 she wrote to her
## p. 1047 (#473) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1047
beloved Cassandra: "I want to tell you that I have got my own
darling child ('Pride and Prejudice') from London. We fairly set at
it and read half the first volume to Miss B. She was amused, poor
soul! . . but she really does seem to admire Elizabeth. I must
confess that I think her as delightful a creature as ever appeared in
print, and how I shall be able to tolerate those who do not like her
at least, I do not know. " A month later she wrote:-"Upon the
whole, however, I am quite vain enough, and well satisfied enough.
The work is rather too light, and bright, and sparkling: it wants
shade; it wants to be stretched out here and there with a long chap-
ter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of solemn, specious nonsense,
about something unconnected with the story; an essay on writing, a
critique on Walter Scott, or the history of Bonaparte, or something
that would form a contrast, and bring the reader with increased
delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the general style! "
Thus she who laughed at everybody else laughed at herself, and
set her critical instinct to estimate her own capacity. To Mr. Clarke,
the librarian of Carlton House, who had requested her to "delineate
a clergyman" of earnestness, enthusiasm, and learning, she replied:
"I am quite honored by your thinking me capable of drawing such
a clergyman as you gave the sketch of in your note. But I assure
you I am not. The comic part of the character I might be equal to,
but not the good, the enthusiastic, the literary.
I think I
may boast myself to be, with all possible vanity, the most unlearned
and uninformed female who ever dared to be an authoress. " And
when the same remarkable bibliophile suggested to her, on the
approach of the marriage of the Princess Charlotte with Prince
Leopold, that "an historical romance, illustrative of the august House
of Coburg, would just now be very interesting," she answered: - "I
am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded on the House
of Saxe-Coburg, might be much more to the purpose of profit or
popularity than such pictures of domestic life in country villages as
I deal in. But I could no more write a romance than an epic poem.
I could not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any
other motive than to save my life; and if it were indispensable to
keep it up, and never relax into laughing at myself or at other
people, I am sure that I should be hung before I had finished the
first chapter. No! I must keep to my own style, and go on in my
own way: and though I may never succeed again in that, I am con-
vinced that I shall totally fail in any other. " And again she writes:
"What shall I do with your strong, manly, vigorous sketches, full
of variety and glow'? How could I possibly join them on to the
little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work with so fine a
brush as produces little effect, after much labor? "
-
## p. 1048 (#474) ###########################################
1048
JANE AUSTEN
Miss Austen read very little. She "detested quartos. " Rich-
ardson, Johnson, Crabbe, and Cowper seem to have been the only
authors for whom she had an appreciation. She would sometimes
say, in jest, that "if ever she married at all, she could fancy being
Mrs. Crabbe! " But her bent of original composition, her amazing
power of observation, her inexhaustible sense of humor, her absorb-
ing interest in what she saw about her, were so strong that she
needed no reinforcement of culture. It was no more in her power
than it was in Wordsworth's to "gather a posy of other men's
thoughts. "
During her lifetime she had not a single literary friend. Other
women novelists possessed their sponsors and devotees. Miss Ferrier
was the delight of a brilliant Edinboro' coterie. Miss Edgeworth was
feasted and flattered, not only in England, but on the Continent;
Miss Burney counted Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Windham, Sheridan,
among the admiring friends who assured her that no flight in fiction
or the drama was beyond her powers. But the creator of Elizabeth
Bennet, of Emma, and of Mr. Collins, never met an author of emi-
nence, received no encouragement to write except that of her own
family, heard no literary talk, and obtained in her lifetime but the
slightest literary recognition. It was long after her death that Wal-
ter Scott wrote in his journal:-"Read again, and for the third time
at least, Miss Austen's finely written novel of 'Pride and Prejudice. ›
That young lady had a talent for describing the involvements and
feelings and characters of ordinary life which is to me the most
wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain I can do
myself, like any now going; but the exquisite touch which renders
commonplace things and characters interesting from the truth of the
description and the sentiment is denied to me. " It was still later
that Macaulay made his famous estimate of her genius:- "Shake-
speare has neither equal nor second; but among those who, in the
point we have noticed (the delineation of character), approached
nearest the great master, we have no hesitation in placing Jane
Austen as a woman of whom England may justly be proud. She has
given us a multitude of characters, all, in a certain sense, common-
place, all such as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly
discriminated from each other as if they were the most eccentric of
human beings.
And all this is done by touches so delicate
that they elude analysis, that they defy the powers of description,
and that we know them to exist only by the general effect to which
they have contributed. " And a new generation had almost forgotten
her name before the exacting Lewes wrote:-"To make our meaning
precise, we would say that Fielding and Jane Austen are the greatest
novelists in the English language.
We would rather have
·
## p. 1049 (#475) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1049
written 'Pride and Prejudice,' or 'Tom Jones,' than any of the
Waverley novels.
The greatness of Miss Austen (her marvel-
ous dramatic power) seems more than anything in Scott akin to
Shakespeare. »
way.
The six novels which have made so great a reputation for their
author relate the least sensational of histories in the least sensational
'Sense and Sensibility' might be called a novel with a pur-
pose, that purpose being to portray the dangerous haste with which
sentiment degenerates into sentimentality; and because of its pur-
pose, the story discloses a less excellent art than its fellows. 'Pride
and Prejudice' finds its motive in the crass pride of birth and place
that characterize the really generous and high-minded hero, Darcy,
and the fierce resentment of his claims to love and respect on the
part of the clever, high-tempered, and chivalrous heroine, Elizabeth
Bennet. 'Northanger Abbey' is a laughing skit at the school of
Mrs. Radcliffe; 'Persuasion,' a simple story of upper middle-class
society, of which the most charming of her charming girls, Anne
Elliot, is the heroine; 'Mansfield Park,' a new and fun-loving version
of 'Cinderella'; and finally 'Emma,'- the favorite with most read-
ers, concerning which Miss Austen said, "I am going to take a
heroine whom no one but myself will much like," the history of
the blunders of a bright, kind-hearted, and really clever girl, who
contrives as much discomfort for her friends as stupidity or ill-nature
could devise.
Numberless as are the novelist's characters, no two clergymen,
no two British matrons, no two fussy spinsters, no two men of
fashion, no two heavy fathers, no two smart young ladies, no two
heroines, are alike. And this variety results from the absolute fidel-
ity of each character to the law of its own development, each one
growing from within and not being simply described from without.
Nor are the circumstances which she permits herself to use less genu-
ine than her people. What surrounds them is what one must expect;
what happens to them is seen to be inevitable.
The low and quiet key in which her "situations" are pitched
produces one artistic gain which countervails its own loss of imme-
diate intensity: the least touch of color shows strongly against that
subdued background. A very slight catastrophe among those orderly
scenes of peaceful life has more effect than the noisier incidents
and contrived convulsions of more melodramatic novels. Thus, in
'Mansfield Park' the result of private theatricals, including many
rehearsals of stage love-making, among a group of young people
who show no very strong principles or firmness of character, appears
in a couple of elopements which break up a family, occasion a piti-
able scandal, and spoil the career of an able, generous, and highly
## p. 1050 (#476) ###########################################
1050
JANE AUSTEN
promising young man. To most novelists an incident of this sort
would seem too ineffective: in her hands it strikes us as what in fact
it is a tragic misfortune and the ruin of two lives.
In a word, it is life which Miss Austen sees with unerring vision
and draws with unerring touch; so that above all other writers of
English fiction she seems entitled to the tribute which an Athenian
critic gave to an earlier and more famous realist,—
"O life! O Menander!
Which of you two is the plagiarist ? »
AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE
From Pride and Prejudice >
THE
HE next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins
made his declaration in form. Having resolved to do it
without loss of time, as his leave of absence extended only
to the following Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence
to make it distressing to himself even at the moment, he set
about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances which
he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding Mrs.
Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon
after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words: -
"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daugh-
ter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honor of a private audience
with her in the course of this morning? "
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of sur-
prise, Mrs. Bennet instantly answered:-"Oh, dear. Yes; cer-
tainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy-I am sure she can
have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs. " And,
gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when
Elizabeth called out:-
"Dear ma'am, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Col-
lins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that
anybody need not hear. I am going away myself. "
"No, no; nonsense, Lizzy.
I desire you will stay where you
are. " And upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and
embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added, "Lizzy, I insist
upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins. "
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction; and a mo-
ment's consideration making her also sensible that it would be
## p. 1051 (#477) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1051
wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat
down again, and tried to conceal by incessant employment the
feelings which were divided between distress and diversion. Mrs.
Bennet and Kitty walked off; and as soon as they were gone,
Mr. Collins began:
"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so
far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other per-
fections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had
there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure
you that I have your respected mother's permission for this
address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse,
however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble: my
attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon
as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of
my future life.
But before I am run away with by my feelings.
on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my
reasons for marrying-and moreover, for coming into Hertford-
shire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did. "
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being
run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing
that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt
to stop him further, and he continued:-
-
――――――
"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right
thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to
set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am
convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly,
-which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is
the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady
whom I have the honor of calling patroness. Twice has she con-
descended to give me her opinion (unasked, too! ) on this subject;
and it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford —
between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arran-
ging Miss de Bourgh's footstool-that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you
must marry. A clergyman like you must marry.
Choose prop-
erly, choose a gentlewoman, for my sake; and for your own, let
her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but
able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice.
Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford,
and I will visit her! ' Allow me, by the way, to observe, my
fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady
Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in
-
## p. 1052 (#478) ###########################################
1052
JANE AUSTEN
my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything
I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be
acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence
and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much
for my general intention in favor of matrimony; it remains to be
told why my views are directed to Longbourn instead of my
own neighborhood, where, I assure you, there are many amiable.
young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit
this estate after the death of your honored father (who, how-
ever, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself
without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters,
that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the
melancholy event takes place, which, however, as I have already
said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive,
my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your
esteem. And now, nothing remains for me but to assure you, in
the most animated language, of the violence of my affection. To
fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of
that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could
not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four
per cents. , which will not be yours till after your mother's
decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head,
therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure your-
self that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when
we are married. ”
It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have
made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time.
Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me.
I am
very sensible of the honor of your proposals, but it is impossible
for me to do otherwise than decline them. "
"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal
wave of the hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject
the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept,
when he first applies for their favor; and that sometimes the
refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am there-
fore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and
shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long. "
"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather
an extraordinary one, after my declaration.
I do assure you
that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies
## p. 1053 (#479) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1053
there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the
chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in
my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced
that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.
Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am per-
suaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the
situation. "
"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said
Mr. Collins, very gravely- "but I cannot imagine that her
ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain
that when I have the honor of seeing her again, I shall speak in
the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable
qualifications. "
"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary.
You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the
compliment of believing what I say. I wish you very happy
and very rich, and by refusing your hand do all in my power to
prevent your being otherwise. In making me the offer, you must
have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to my
family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate whenever
it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be consid-
ered, therefore, as finally settled. " And rising as she thus spoke,
she would have quitted the room had not Mr. Collins thus ad-
dressed her:
"When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the
subject, I shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than
you have now given me: though I am far from accusing you of
cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom
of your sex to reject a man on the first application; and perhaps
you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would
be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character. "
"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth, with some warmth,
"you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can
appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how
to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its
being one. "
"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin,
that your refusal of my addresses is merely a thing of course.
My reasons for believing it are briefly these:-It does not ap-
pear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that
the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly
## p. 1054 (#480) ###########################################
1054
JANE AUSTEN
desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of
De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances
highly in my favor; and you should take it into further consider-
ation that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means.
certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you.
Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood
undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications.
As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your
rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of
increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice
of elegant females. "
man.
"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to
that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable
would rather be paid the compliment of being believed
sincere. I thank you again and again for the honor you have
done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely
impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak
plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female intend-
ing to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth
from her heart. "
"You are uniformly charming! " cried he, with an air of awk-
ward gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by
the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals
will not fail of being acceptable. ”
To such perseverance in willful self-deception Elizabeth would
make no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; deter-
mined, if he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flat-
tering encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative
might be uttered in such a manner as must be decisive, and
whose behavior at least could not be mistaken for the affectation
and coquetry of an elegant female.
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
From Pride and Prejudice
[Lydia Bennet has eloped with the worthless rake Wickham, who has no
intention of marrying her. ]
M
RS. BENNET, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a
few minutes' conversation together, received them exactly
as might be expected: with tears and lamentations of
regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and
## p. 1055 (#481) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1055
complaints of her own suffering and ill-usage; - blaming every-
body but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of
her daughter must be principally owing.
"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going
to Brighton with all my family, this would not have happened;
but poor, dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did
the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there
was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the
kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had been well looked
after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge
of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor, dear child!
And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight
Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed,
and what is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out,
before he is cold in his grave; and if you are not kind to us,
brother, I do not know what we shall do. "
They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardi-
ner, after general assurances of his affection for her and all her
family, told her that he meant to be in London the very next
day, and would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavor for recover-
ing Lydia.
"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he: "though it is
right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look
on it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left Brighton.
In a few days more, we may gain some news of them; and till
we know that they are not married, and have no design of mar-
rying, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As soon as I
get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make him come
home with me, to Grace-church-street, and then we may consult
together as to what is to be done. "
"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly
what I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to
town, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not
married already, make them marry. And as for wedding clothes,
do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as
much money as she chooses to buy them, after they are married.
And above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell him
what a dreadful state I am in - that I am frightened out of my
wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me,
such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beat-
ings at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And
## p. 1056 (#482) ###########################################
1056
JANE AUSTEN
tell my dear Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes
till she has seen me, for she does not know which are the best
warehouses. Oh! brother, how kind you are! I know you will
contrive it all. "
But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest
endeavors in the cause, could not avoid recommending modera-
tion to her, as well in her hopes as her fears; and after talking
with her in this manner till dinner was on the table, they left
her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper, who attended, in
the absence of her daughters.
Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was
no real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did
not attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not pru-
dence enough to hold her tongue before the servants, while they
waited at table, and judged it better that one only of the house-
hold, and the one whom they could most trust, should compre-
hend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.
In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty,
who had been too busily engaged in their separate apartments to
make their appearance before. One came from her books, and
the other from her toilette. The faces of both, however, were
tolerably calm; and no change was visible in either, except that
the loss of her favorite sister, or the anger which she had her-
self incurred in the business, had given something more of fret-
fulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she
was mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a
countenance of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at
table:
―
"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much
talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into
the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly con-
solation. "
Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she
added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw
from it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irre-
trievable that one false step involves her in endless ruin—
that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful-and
that she cannot be too much guarded in her behavior towards
the undeserving of the other sex. "
Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much
oppressed to make any reply.
――
## p. 1057 (#483) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1057
MR. COLLINS TO MR.
A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE
From Pride and Prejudice
BENNET, ON HIS DAUGHTER'S ELOPEMENT WITH A
RAKE
My Dear Sir:
I
FEEL myself called upon, by our relationship and my situation
in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are
now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed
by letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs.
Collins and myself sincerely sympathize with you, and all your
respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of
the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no
time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting, on my part,
that can alleviate so severe a misfortune; or that may comfort
you under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflict-
ing to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have
been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to be
lamented because there is reason to suppose, as my dear Char-
lotte informs me, that this licentiousness of behavior in your
daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence;
though at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and
Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own disposition
must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an
enormity at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are
grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined
by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daugh-
ter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in
apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious
to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine
herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such
a family? And this consideration leads me, moreover, to reflect
with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last November;
for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your
sorrows and disgrace. Let me advise you, then, my dear sir, to
console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy
child from your affection forever, and leave her to reap the
fruits of her own heinous offense.
I am, dear sir, etc. , etc.
11-67
## p. 1058 (#484) ###########################################
1058
JANE AUSTEN
A WELL-MATCHED SISTER AND BROTHER
From Northanger Abbey'
on
Μ'
DEAREST Catherine, have you settled what to wear
your head to-night? I am determined, at all events, to
be dressed exactly like you. The men take notice of
that sometimes, you know. "
"But it does not signify if they do," said Catherine, very
innocently.
«< Signify! oh, heavens! I make it a rule never to mind what
they say. They are very often amazingly impertinent, if you do
not treat them with spirit, and make them keep their distance. "
"Are they? Well I never observed that. They always behave
very well to me. ”
"Oh! they give themselves such airs. They are the most
conceited creatures in the world, and think themselves of so
much importance! By the by, though I have thought of it a
hundred times, I have always forgot to ask you what is your
favorite complexion in a man. Do you like them best dark or
fair? "
"I hardly know. I never much thought about it. Something
between both, I think-brown: not fair, and not very dark. ”
"Very well, Catherine. That is exactly he. I have not forgot
your description of Mr. Tilney: 'a brown skin, with dark eyes,
and rather dark hair. ' Well, my taste is different. I prefer
light eyes; and as to complexion, do you know, I like a sallow
better than any other. You must not betray me, if you should
ever meet with one of your acquaintance answering that descrip-
tion. "
"Betray you! What do you mean? »
"Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have said too much. .
Let us drop the subject. "
Catherine, in some amazement, complied; and after remaining
a few moments silent, was on the point of reverting to what
interested her at that time rather more than anything else in
the world, Laurentina's skeleton, when her friend prevented her
by saying, "For Heaven's sake! let us move away from this end
of the room.
Search thou thy heart! Therein is the fountain of good! Do
thou but dig, and abundantly the stream shall gush forth. (Book
vii. , § 59. )
Be not unmindful of the graces of life. Let thy body be
stalwart, yet not ungainly either in motion or in repose. Let not
thy face alone, but thy whole body, make manifest the alert-
ness of thy mind. Yet let all this be without affectation. (Book
vii. , § 60. )
Thy breath is part of the all-encircling air, and is one with
it. Let thy mind be part, no less, of that Supreme Mind com-
prehending all things. For verily, to him who is willing to be
inspired thereby, the Supreme Mind flows through all things and
permeates all things as truly as the air exists for him who will
but breathe. (Book viii. , § 54-)
Men are created that they may live for each other. Teach
them to be better or bear with them as they are. (Book viii. ,
$ 59. )
Write no more, Antoninus, about what a good man is or what
he ought to do. Be a good man. (Book x. , § 16. )
Look steadfastly at any created thing. See! it is changing,
melting into corruption, and ready to be dissolved. In its essen-
tial nature, it was born but to die. (Book x. , § 18. )
11-66
## p. 1042 (#468) ###########################################
1042
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS
Co-workers are we all, toward one result. Some, consciously
and of set purpose; others, unwittingly even as men who sleep,
- of whom Heraclitus (I think it is he) says they also are co-
workers in the events of the Universe. In diverse fashion also
men work; and abundantly, too, work the fault-finders and the
hinderers, for even of such as these the Universe hath need.
It rests then with thee to determine with what workers thou wilt
place thyself; for He who governs all things will without failure
place thee at thy proper task, and will welcome thee to some
station among those who work and act together. (Book vi. , § 42. )
-
Unconstrained and in supreme joyousness of soul thou mayest
live though all men revile thee as they list, and though wild
beasts rend in pieces the unworthy garment-thy body. For
what prevents thee, in the midst of all this, from keeping thyself
in profound calm, with a true judgment of thy surroundings and
a helpful knowledge of the things that are seen? So that the
Judgment may say to whatever presents itself, "In truth this is
what thou really art, howsoever thou appearest to men;" and thy
Knowledge may say to whatsoever may come beneath its vision,
"Thee I sought; for whatever presents itself to me is fit material
for nobility in personal thought and public conduct; in short,
for skill in work for man or for God. " For all things which
befall us are related to God or to man, and are not new to us
or hard to work upon, but familiar and serviceable. (Book vii. ,
§ 68. )
When thou art annoyed at some one's impudence, straight-
way ask thyself, "Is it possible that there should be no impudent
men in the world? " It is impossible. Ask not then the impos-
sible. For such an one is but one of these impudent persons
who needs must be in the world. Keep before thee like con-
clusions also concerning the rascal, the untrustworthy one, and
all evil-doers. Then, when it is quite clear to thy mind that
such men must needs exist, thou shalt be the more forgiving
toward each one of their number. This also will aid thee to
observe, whensoever occasion comes, what power for good, Nature
hath given to man to frustrate such viciousness. She hath be-
stowed upon man Patience as an antidote to the stupid man
and against another man some other power for good. Besides,
## p. 1043 (#469) ###########################################
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS
1043
it is wholly in thine own power to teach new things to the one
who hath erred, for every one who errs hath but missed the
appointed path and wandered away. Reflect, and thou wilt dis-
cover that no one of these with whom thou art annoyed hath
done aught to debase thy mind, and that is the only real evil that
can befall thee.
Moreover, wherein is it wicked or surprising that the ignor-
ant man should act ignorantly? Is not the error really thine
own in not foreseeing that such an one would do as he did?
If thou hadst but taken thought thou wouldst have known he
would be prone to err, and it is only because thou hast forgot-
ten to use thy Reason that thou art surprised at his deed. Above
all, when thou condemnest another as untruthful, examine thyself
closely; for upon thee rests the blame, in that thou dost trust
to such an one to keep his promise. If thou didst bestow upon
him thy bounty, thine is the blame not to have given it freely,
and without expectation of good to thee, save the doing of the
act itself. What more dost thou wish than to do good to man?
Doth not this suffice,- that thou hast done what conforms to thy
true nature? Must thou then have a reward, as though the
eyes demanded pay for seeing or the feet for walking? For
even as these are formed for such work, and by co-operating
in their distinctive duty come into their own, even so man (by
his real nature disposed to do good), when he hath done some
good deed, or in any other way furthered the Commonweal, acts
according to his own nature, and in so doing hath all that is
truly his own. (Book ix. , §42. )
O Man, thou hast been a citizen of this great State, the Uni-
verse! What matters what thy prescribed time hath been, five
years or three? What the law prescribes is just to every one.
Why complain, then, if thou art sent away from the State,
not by a tyrant or an unjust judge, but by Nature who led thee.
thither,― even as the manager excuses from the stage an actor
whom he hath employed?
"But I have played three acts only? "
True. But in the drama of thy life three acts conclude the
play. For what its conclusion shall be, He determines who
created it and now ends it; and with either of these thou hast
naught to do. Depart thou, then, well pleased; for He who dis-
misses thee is well pleased also. (Book xii. , § 36. )
## p. 1044 (#470) ###########################################
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS
1044
BE NOT disquieted lest, in the days to come, some misadvent-
ure befall thee. The Reason which now sufficeth thee will then
be with thee, should there be the need. (Book vii. , § 8. )
TO THE wise man the dictates of Reason seem the instincts
of Nature. (Book vii. , § 11. )
MY TRUE self- the philosophic mind- hath but one dread:
the dread lest I do something unworthy of a man, or that I may
act in an unseemly way or at an improper time. (Book vii. , § 20. )
ACCEPT with joy the Fate that befalls thee. Thine it is and
not another's. What then could be better for thee? (Book vii. ,
$ 57. )
SEE to it that thou art humane to those who are not humane.
(Book vii. , $65. )
HE WHO does not act, often commits as great a wrong as he
who acts. (Book ix. , §5. )
THE wrong that another has done - let alone! Add not to it
thine own. (Book ix. , § 20. )
How powerful is man! He is able to do all that God wishes
him to do. He is able to accept all that God sends upon him.
(Book xii. , 11. )
A LAMP sends forth its light until it is completely extinguished.
Shall Truth and Justice and Equanimity suffer abatement in thee
until all are extinguished in death? (Book xii. , § 15. )
## p. 1045 (#471) ###########################################
1045
JANE AUSTEN
(1775-1817)
HE biography of one of the greatest English novelists might
Sbe written in a dozen lines, so simple, so tranquil, so for-
Gtunate was her life. Jane Austen, the second daughter of
an English clergyman, was born at Steventon, in Hampshire, in 1775.
Her father had been known at Oxford as "the handsome proctor,"
and all his children inherited good looks. He was accomplished
enough to fit his boys for the University, and the atmosphere of the
household was that of culture, good breeding, and healthy fun. Mrs.
Austen was a clever woman, full of epi-
gram and humor in conversation, and rather
famous in her own coterie for improvised
verses and satirical hits at her friends.
The elder daughter, Cassandra, adored by
Jane, who was three years her junior, seems
to have had a rare balance and common-
sense which exercised great influence over
the more brilliant younger sister. Their
mother declared that of the two girls. Cas-
sandra had the merit of having her temper
always under her control; and Jane the
happiness of a temper that never required
to be commanded.
JANE AUSTEN
From her cradle, Jane Austen was used to hearing agreeable
household talk, and the freest personal criticism on the men and
women who made up her small, secluded world. The family circum-
stances were easy, and the family friendliness unlimited,- conditions
determining, perhaps, the cheerful tone, the unexciting course, the
sly fun and good-fellowship of her stories.
It was in this Steventon rectory, in the family room where the
boys might be building their toy boats, or the parish poor folk com-
plaining to "passon's madam," or the county ladies paying visits of
ceremony, in monstrous muffs, heelless slippers laced over open-
worked silk stockings, short flounced skirts, and lutestring pelisses
trimmed with "Irish," or where tradesmen might be explaining their
delinquencies, or farmers' wives growing voluble over foxes and
young chickens-it was in the midst of this busy and noisy publicity,
where nobody respected her employment, and where she was inter-
rupted twenty times in an hour, that the shrewd and smiling social
## p. 1046 (#472) ###########################################
1046
JANE AUSTEN
critic managed, before she was twenty-one, to write her famous
'Pride and Prejudice. ' Here too 'Sense and Sensibility' was finished
in 1797, and 'Northanger Abbey' in 1798. The first of these, submitted
to a London publisher, was declined as unavailable, by return of
post. The second, the gay and mocking 'Northanger Abbey,' was
sold to a Bath bookseller for £10, and several years later bought
back again, still unpublished, by one of Miss Austen's brothers. For
the third story she seems not even to have sought a publisher.
These three books, all written before she was twenty-five, were evi-
dently the employment and delight of her leisure. The serious busi-
ness of life was that which occupied other pretty girls of her time
and her social position,-dressing, dancing, flirting, learning a new
stitch at the embroidery frame, or a new air on "the instrument";
while all the time she was observing, with those soft hazel eyes of
hers, what honest Nym calls the "humors" of the world about her.
In 1801, the family removed to Bath, then the most fashionable
watering-place in England. The gay life of the brilliant little city,
the etiquette of the Pump Room and the Assemblies, regulated by
the autocratic Beau Nash, the drives, the routs, the card parties, the
toilets, the shops, the Parade, the general frivolity, pretension, and
display of the eighteenth century Vanity Fair, had already been
studied by the good-natured satirist on occasional visits, and already
immortalized in the swiftly changing comedy scenes of Northanger
Abbey. ' But they tickled her fancy none the less, now that she
lived among them, and she made use of them again in her later
novel, Persuasion. '
For a period of eight years, spent in Bath and in Southampton,
Miss Austen wrote nothing save some fragments of 'Lady Susan'
and The Watsons,' neither of them of great importance. In 1809
the lessened household, composed of the mother and her two daugh-
ters only, removed to the village of Chawton, on the estate of Mrs.
Austen's third son; and here, in a rustic cottage, now become a place
of pilgrimage, Jane Austen again took up her pen. She rewrote
'Pride and Prejudice,' she revised 'Sense and Sensibility,' and be-
tween February 1811 and August 1816 she completed Mansfield
Park,' 'Emma,' and 'Persuasion. ' At Chawton, as at Steventon, she
had no study, and her stories were written on a little mahogany desk
near a window in the family sitting-room, where she must often have
been interrupted by the prototypes of her Mrs. Allen, Mrs. Bennet,
Miss Bates, Mr. Collins, or Mrs. Norris. When at last she began to
publish, her stories appeared in rapid succession: 'Sense and Sensi-
bility' in 1811; 'Pride and Prejudice' early in 1813; 'Mansfield Park'
in 1814; Emma' in 1816; Northanger Abbey' and 'Persuasion' in
1818, the year following her death. In January 1813 she wrote to her
## p. 1047 (#473) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1047
beloved Cassandra: "I want to tell you that I have got my own
darling child ('Pride and Prejudice') from London. We fairly set at
it and read half the first volume to Miss B. She was amused, poor
soul! . . but she really does seem to admire Elizabeth. I must
confess that I think her as delightful a creature as ever appeared in
print, and how I shall be able to tolerate those who do not like her
at least, I do not know. " A month later she wrote:-"Upon the
whole, however, I am quite vain enough, and well satisfied enough.
The work is rather too light, and bright, and sparkling: it wants
shade; it wants to be stretched out here and there with a long chap-
ter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of solemn, specious nonsense,
about something unconnected with the story; an essay on writing, a
critique on Walter Scott, or the history of Bonaparte, or something
that would form a contrast, and bring the reader with increased
delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the general style! "
Thus she who laughed at everybody else laughed at herself, and
set her critical instinct to estimate her own capacity. To Mr. Clarke,
the librarian of Carlton House, who had requested her to "delineate
a clergyman" of earnestness, enthusiasm, and learning, she replied:
"I am quite honored by your thinking me capable of drawing such
a clergyman as you gave the sketch of in your note. But I assure
you I am not. The comic part of the character I might be equal to,
but not the good, the enthusiastic, the literary.
I think I
may boast myself to be, with all possible vanity, the most unlearned
and uninformed female who ever dared to be an authoress. " And
when the same remarkable bibliophile suggested to her, on the
approach of the marriage of the Princess Charlotte with Prince
Leopold, that "an historical romance, illustrative of the august House
of Coburg, would just now be very interesting," she answered: - "I
am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded on the House
of Saxe-Coburg, might be much more to the purpose of profit or
popularity than such pictures of domestic life in country villages as
I deal in. But I could no more write a romance than an epic poem.
I could not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any
other motive than to save my life; and if it were indispensable to
keep it up, and never relax into laughing at myself or at other
people, I am sure that I should be hung before I had finished the
first chapter. No! I must keep to my own style, and go on in my
own way: and though I may never succeed again in that, I am con-
vinced that I shall totally fail in any other. " And again she writes:
"What shall I do with your strong, manly, vigorous sketches, full
of variety and glow'? How could I possibly join them on to the
little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work with so fine a
brush as produces little effect, after much labor? "
-
## p. 1048 (#474) ###########################################
1048
JANE AUSTEN
Miss Austen read very little. She "detested quartos. " Rich-
ardson, Johnson, Crabbe, and Cowper seem to have been the only
authors for whom she had an appreciation. She would sometimes
say, in jest, that "if ever she married at all, she could fancy being
Mrs. Crabbe! " But her bent of original composition, her amazing
power of observation, her inexhaustible sense of humor, her absorb-
ing interest in what she saw about her, were so strong that she
needed no reinforcement of culture. It was no more in her power
than it was in Wordsworth's to "gather a posy of other men's
thoughts. "
During her lifetime she had not a single literary friend. Other
women novelists possessed their sponsors and devotees. Miss Ferrier
was the delight of a brilliant Edinboro' coterie. Miss Edgeworth was
feasted and flattered, not only in England, but on the Continent;
Miss Burney counted Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Windham, Sheridan,
among the admiring friends who assured her that no flight in fiction
or the drama was beyond her powers. But the creator of Elizabeth
Bennet, of Emma, and of Mr. Collins, never met an author of emi-
nence, received no encouragement to write except that of her own
family, heard no literary talk, and obtained in her lifetime but the
slightest literary recognition. It was long after her death that Wal-
ter Scott wrote in his journal:-"Read again, and for the third time
at least, Miss Austen's finely written novel of 'Pride and Prejudice. ›
That young lady had a talent for describing the involvements and
feelings and characters of ordinary life which is to me the most
wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain I can do
myself, like any now going; but the exquisite touch which renders
commonplace things and characters interesting from the truth of the
description and the sentiment is denied to me. " It was still later
that Macaulay made his famous estimate of her genius:- "Shake-
speare has neither equal nor second; but among those who, in the
point we have noticed (the delineation of character), approached
nearest the great master, we have no hesitation in placing Jane
Austen as a woman of whom England may justly be proud. She has
given us a multitude of characters, all, in a certain sense, common-
place, all such as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly
discriminated from each other as if they were the most eccentric of
human beings.
And all this is done by touches so delicate
that they elude analysis, that they defy the powers of description,
and that we know them to exist only by the general effect to which
they have contributed. " And a new generation had almost forgotten
her name before the exacting Lewes wrote:-"To make our meaning
precise, we would say that Fielding and Jane Austen are the greatest
novelists in the English language.
We would rather have
·
## p. 1049 (#475) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1049
written 'Pride and Prejudice,' or 'Tom Jones,' than any of the
Waverley novels.
The greatness of Miss Austen (her marvel-
ous dramatic power) seems more than anything in Scott akin to
Shakespeare. »
way.
The six novels which have made so great a reputation for their
author relate the least sensational of histories in the least sensational
'Sense and Sensibility' might be called a novel with a pur-
pose, that purpose being to portray the dangerous haste with which
sentiment degenerates into sentimentality; and because of its pur-
pose, the story discloses a less excellent art than its fellows. 'Pride
and Prejudice' finds its motive in the crass pride of birth and place
that characterize the really generous and high-minded hero, Darcy,
and the fierce resentment of his claims to love and respect on the
part of the clever, high-tempered, and chivalrous heroine, Elizabeth
Bennet. 'Northanger Abbey' is a laughing skit at the school of
Mrs. Radcliffe; 'Persuasion,' a simple story of upper middle-class
society, of which the most charming of her charming girls, Anne
Elliot, is the heroine; 'Mansfield Park,' a new and fun-loving version
of 'Cinderella'; and finally 'Emma,'- the favorite with most read-
ers, concerning which Miss Austen said, "I am going to take a
heroine whom no one but myself will much like," the history of
the blunders of a bright, kind-hearted, and really clever girl, who
contrives as much discomfort for her friends as stupidity or ill-nature
could devise.
Numberless as are the novelist's characters, no two clergymen,
no two British matrons, no two fussy spinsters, no two men of
fashion, no two heavy fathers, no two smart young ladies, no two
heroines, are alike. And this variety results from the absolute fidel-
ity of each character to the law of its own development, each one
growing from within and not being simply described from without.
Nor are the circumstances which she permits herself to use less genu-
ine than her people. What surrounds them is what one must expect;
what happens to them is seen to be inevitable.
The low and quiet key in which her "situations" are pitched
produces one artistic gain which countervails its own loss of imme-
diate intensity: the least touch of color shows strongly against that
subdued background. A very slight catastrophe among those orderly
scenes of peaceful life has more effect than the noisier incidents
and contrived convulsions of more melodramatic novels. Thus, in
'Mansfield Park' the result of private theatricals, including many
rehearsals of stage love-making, among a group of young people
who show no very strong principles or firmness of character, appears
in a couple of elopements which break up a family, occasion a piti-
able scandal, and spoil the career of an able, generous, and highly
## p. 1050 (#476) ###########################################
1050
JANE AUSTEN
promising young man. To most novelists an incident of this sort
would seem too ineffective: in her hands it strikes us as what in fact
it is a tragic misfortune and the ruin of two lives.
In a word, it is life which Miss Austen sees with unerring vision
and draws with unerring touch; so that above all other writers of
English fiction she seems entitled to the tribute which an Athenian
critic gave to an earlier and more famous realist,—
"O life! O Menander!
Which of you two is the plagiarist ? »
AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE
From Pride and Prejudice >
THE
HE next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins
made his declaration in form. Having resolved to do it
without loss of time, as his leave of absence extended only
to the following Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence
to make it distressing to himself even at the moment, he set
about it in a very orderly manner, with all the observances which
he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding Mrs.
Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon
after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words: -
"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daugh-
ter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honor of a private audience
with her in the course of this morning? "
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of sur-
prise, Mrs. Bennet instantly answered:-"Oh, dear. Yes; cer-
tainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy-I am sure she can
have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs. " And,
gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when
Elizabeth called out:-
"Dear ma'am, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Col-
lins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that
anybody need not hear. I am going away myself. "
"No, no; nonsense, Lizzy.
I desire you will stay where you
are. " And upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and
embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added, "Lizzy, I insist
upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins. "
Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction; and a mo-
ment's consideration making her also sensible that it would be
## p. 1051 (#477) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1051
wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat
down again, and tried to conceal by incessant employment the
feelings which were divided between distress and diversion. Mrs.
Bennet and Kitty walked off; and as soon as they were gone,
Mr. Collins began:
"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so
far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other per-
fections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had
there not been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure
you that I have your respected mother's permission for this
address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse,
however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble: my
attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon
as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of
my future life.
But before I am run away with by my feelings.
on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my
reasons for marrying-and moreover, for coming into Hertford-
shire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did. "
The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being
run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing
that she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt
to stop him further, and he continued:-
-
――――――
"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right
thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to
set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am
convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly,
-which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is
the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady
whom I have the honor of calling patroness. Twice has she con-
descended to give me her opinion (unasked, too! ) on this subject;
and it was but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford —
between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was arran-
ging Miss de Bourgh's footstool-that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you
must marry. A clergyman like you must marry.
Choose prop-
erly, choose a gentlewoman, for my sake; and for your own, let
her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but
able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice.
Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford,
and I will visit her! ' Allow me, by the way, to observe, my
fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady
Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in
-
## p. 1052 (#478) ###########################################
1052
JANE AUSTEN
my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything
I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be
acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence
and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much
for my general intention in favor of matrimony; it remains to be
told why my views are directed to Longbourn instead of my
own neighborhood, where, I assure you, there are many amiable.
young women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit
this estate after the death of your honored father (who, how-
ever, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself
without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters,
that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the
melancholy event takes place, which, however, as I have already
said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive,
my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your
esteem. And now, nothing remains for me but to assure you, in
the most animated language, of the violence of my affection. To
fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of
that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could
not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four
per cents. , which will not be yours till after your mother's
decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head,
therefore, I shall be uniformly silent; and you may assure your-
self that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when
we are married. ”
It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.
"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have
made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time.
Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me.
I am
very sensible of the honor of your proposals, but it is impossible
for me to do otherwise than decline them. "
"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal
wave of the hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject
the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept,
when he first applies for their favor; and that sometimes the
refusal is repeated a second, or even a third time. I am there-
fore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and
shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long. "
"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather
an extraordinary one, after my declaration.
I do assure you
that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies
## p. 1053 (#479) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1053
there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the
chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in
my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced
that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.
Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am per-
suaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the
situation. "
"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said
Mr. Collins, very gravely- "but I cannot imagine that her
ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain
that when I have the honor of seeing her again, I shall speak in
the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable
qualifications. "
"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary.
You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the
compliment of believing what I say. I wish you very happy
and very rich, and by refusing your hand do all in my power to
prevent your being otherwise. In making me the offer, you must
have satisfied the delicacy of your feelings with regard to my
family, and may take possession of Longbourn estate whenever
it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be consid-
ered, therefore, as finally settled. " And rising as she thus spoke,
she would have quitted the room had not Mr. Collins thus ad-
dressed her:
"When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the
subject, I shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than
you have now given me: though I am far from accusing you of
cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom
of your sex to reject a man on the first application; and perhaps
you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would
be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character. "
"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth, with some warmth,
"you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can
appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how
to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its
being one. "
"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin,
that your refusal of my addresses is merely a thing of course.
My reasons for believing it are briefly these:-It does not ap-
pear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that
the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly
## p. 1054 (#480) ###########################################
1054
JANE AUSTEN
desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of
De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances
highly in my favor; and you should take it into further consider-
ation that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means.
certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you.
Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood
undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications.
As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your
rejection of me, I shall choose to attribute it to your wish of
increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice
of elegant females. "
man.
"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to
that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable
would rather be paid the compliment of being believed
sincere. I thank you again and again for the honor you have
done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely
impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak
plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female intend-
ing to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth
from her heart. "
"You are uniformly charming! " cried he, with an air of awk-
ward gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by
the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals
will not fail of being acceptable. ”
To such perseverance in willful self-deception Elizabeth would
make no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; deter-
mined, if he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flat-
tering encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative
might be uttered in such a manner as must be decisive, and
whose behavior at least could not be mistaken for the affectation
and coquetry of an elegant female.
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
From Pride and Prejudice
[Lydia Bennet has eloped with the worthless rake Wickham, who has no
intention of marrying her. ]
M
RS. BENNET, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a
few minutes' conversation together, received them exactly
as might be expected: with tears and lamentations of
regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and
## p. 1055 (#481) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1055
complaints of her own suffering and ill-usage; - blaming every-
body but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of
her daughter must be principally owing.
"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going
to Brighton with all my family, this would not have happened;
but poor, dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did
the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there
was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the
kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had been well looked
after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge
of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor, dear child!
And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight
Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed,
and what is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out,
before he is cold in his grave; and if you are not kind to us,
brother, I do not know what we shall do. "
They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardi-
ner, after general assurances of his affection for her and all her
family, told her that he meant to be in London the very next
day, and would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavor for recover-
ing Lydia.
"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he: "though it is
right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look
on it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left Brighton.
In a few days more, we may gain some news of them; and till
we know that they are not married, and have no design of mar-
rying, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As soon as I
get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make him come
home with me, to Grace-church-street, and then we may consult
together as to what is to be done. "
"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly
what I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to
town, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not
married already, make them marry. And as for wedding clothes,
do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as
much money as she chooses to buy them, after they are married.
And above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell him
what a dreadful state I am in - that I am frightened out of my
wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me,
such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beat-
ings at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And
## p. 1056 (#482) ###########################################
1056
JANE AUSTEN
tell my dear Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes
till she has seen me, for she does not know which are the best
warehouses. Oh! brother, how kind you are! I know you will
contrive it all. "
But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest
endeavors in the cause, could not avoid recommending modera-
tion to her, as well in her hopes as her fears; and after talking
with her in this manner till dinner was on the table, they left
her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper, who attended, in
the absence of her daughters.
Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was
no real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did
not attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not pru-
dence enough to hold her tongue before the servants, while they
waited at table, and judged it better that one only of the house-
hold, and the one whom they could most trust, should compre-
hend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.
In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty,
who had been too busily engaged in their separate apartments to
make their appearance before. One came from her books, and
the other from her toilette. The faces of both, however, were
tolerably calm; and no change was visible in either, except that
the loss of her favorite sister, or the anger which she had her-
self incurred in the business, had given something more of fret-
fulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she
was mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a
countenance of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at
table:
―
"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much
talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into
the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly con-
solation. "
Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she
added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw
from it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irre-
trievable that one false step involves her in endless ruin—
that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful-and
that she cannot be too much guarded in her behavior towards
the undeserving of the other sex. "
Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much
oppressed to make any reply.
――
## p. 1057 (#483) ###########################################
JANE AUSTEN
1057
MR. COLLINS TO MR.
A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE
From Pride and Prejudice
BENNET, ON HIS DAUGHTER'S ELOPEMENT WITH A
RAKE
My Dear Sir:
I
FEEL myself called upon, by our relationship and my situation
in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are
now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed
by letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs.
Collins and myself sincerely sympathize with you, and all your
respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of
the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no
time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting, on my part,
that can alleviate so severe a misfortune; or that may comfort
you under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflict-
ing to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have
been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to be
lamented because there is reason to suppose, as my dear Char-
lotte informs me, that this licentiousness of behavior in your
daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence;
though at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and
Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own disposition
must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an
enormity at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are
grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined
by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daugh-
ter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in
apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious
to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine
herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such
a family? And this consideration leads me, moreover, to reflect
with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last November;
for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your
sorrows and disgrace. Let me advise you, then, my dear sir, to
console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy
child from your affection forever, and leave her to reap the
fruits of her own heinous offense.
I am, dear sir, etc. , etc.
11-67
## p. 1058 (#484) ###########################################
1058
JANE AUSTEN
A WELL-MATCHED SISTER AND BROTHER
From Northanger Abbey'
on
Μ'
DEAREST Catherine, have you settled what to wear
your head to-night? I am determined, at all events, to
be dressed exactly like you. The men take notice of
that sometimes, you know. "
"But it does not signify if they do," said Catherine, very
innocently.
«< Signify! oh, heavens! I make it a rule never to mind what
they say. They are very often amazingly impertinent, if you do
not treat them with spirit, and make them keep their distance. "
"Are they? Well I never observed that. They always behave
very well to me. ”
"Oh! they give themselves such airs. They are the most
conceited creatures in the world, and think themselves of so
much importance! By the by, though I have thought of it a
hundred times, I have always forgot to ask you what is your
favorite complexion in a man. Do you like them best dark or
fair? "
"I hardly know. I never much thought about it. Something
between both, I think-brown: not fair, and not very dark. ”
"Very well, Catherine. That is exactly he. I have not forgot
your description of Mr. Tilney: 'a brown skin, with dark eyes,
and rather dark hair. ' Well, my taste is different. I prefer
light eyes; and as to complexion, do you know, I like a sallow
better than any other. You must not betray me, if you should
ever meet with one of your acquaintance answering that descrip-
tion. "
"Betray you! What do you mean? »
"Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have said too much. .
Let us drop the subject. "
Catherine, in some amazement, complied; and after remaining
a few moments silent, was on the point of reverting to what
interested her at that time rather more than anything else in
the world, Laurentina's skeleton, when her friend prevented her
by saying, "For Heaven's sake! let us move away from this end
of the room.
