Chawton: Sunday, January 7, 2007

From Winchester, we drove on Sunday morning to the small village of Chawton, where Jane Austen lived with her mother and beloved older sister, Cassandra, from 1809 to just before her death in 1817. Jane was born and grew up in Steventon, just west of Basingstoke, where her father, Rev. George Austen, was the vicar. In 1801, Rev. Austen retired from his living in Steventon, and moved the family to Bath. Jane was twenty-six, and it was difficult for her to leave the only home she had known. For the next seven or eight years, she had no real settled home. The family took various lodgings in Bath, and after Rev. Austen died in 1805, his widow and unmarried daughters moved to Southampton. 1806 found them staying with their Leigh cousin at Adlestrop and Stoneleigh Abbey.

Meanwhile, Jane's brother Edward had been adopted by the wealthy Thomas Knight, of Godmersham Park, Kent (near Canterbury), and Chawton House, Hampshire. Knight and his wife were childless, and needed an heir. Edward, who changed his last name to Knight, became that heir, and in due time inherited Chawton House and Godmersham Park. In 1809, he offered his mother and sisters a home either in Kent or in Chawton. Mrs. Austen chose Chawton, and there Jane settled down to revise Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Northanger Abbey, and to write her other three novels.
The house is full of other little treasures that call to mind the novels. Cassandra's fortepiano (a Clementi) reminded me both of Marianne Dashwood and of poor Mary Bennet, who is so embarrassing on the piano. An amber cross with a gold chain, given to Jane by her beloved sailor brother, Charles, reminded me of a similar cross given to Fanny Price by her beloved sailor brother, William. The house is filled with so many reminders of how Jane Austen turned her quiet life in a small Hampshire village into great literature. Displayed in her bedroom are the words of Sir Walter Scott, who wrote in his diary:
Read again, 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 ordinary commonplace things and characters interesting from the truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me. What a pity such a gifted creature died so early!

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