transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:03] Welcome to A Jane Austen Year, a seasonal journey through Jane Austen's novels, the story of her life and the world she lived in. Created and recorded at Jane Austen's house in Choughton, Hampshire, the most treasured Austen site in the world. Spring.

Speaker 2:
[00:31] She had not known before what pleasures she had to lose in passing March and April in her town. She had not known before how much the beginnings and progress of vegetation had delighted her. What animation, both of body and mind, she had derived from watching the advance of that season, which cannot, in spite of its capriciousness, be unlovely.

Speaker 3:
[00:59] This year, spring feels particularly welcome, with its promise of longer days, warmth and sunshine, and the chance to get outside and walk off the winter gloom. Here in Choughton, the cottage garden at Jane Austen's house is coming to life with flowers and new leaves. As the weather improves, early snowdrops give way to sunny daffodils. The ground beneath the trees is starred with delicate crocuses, and by April it is thick with bluebells. In Jane Austen's novels, spring is particularly important, often heralding change and renewal. In amongst the sunshine and showers there are new arrivals, new characters, new fashions, new ideas. It isn't always an easy transition. Sometimes the new acquaintances are unreliable, or a proposal is unwelcome. But nevertheless, in the small and rigid societies of Jane Austen's novels, change itself is always exciting. You never know where it might lead.

Speaker 4:
[02:16] In Sense and Sensibility, Jane's first published novel, the story begins in early spring when John Dashwood arrives at Norland, and in April, we meet Edward Ferris. As the season progresses, Edward and Elinor fall in love, in a quiet, unspoken way, like a delicate flower unfurling in the spring sunshine, a far cry from the bold passion of Marianne and Willoughby later in the year.

Speaker 2:
[02:42] Edward had been staying several weeks in the house before he engaged much of Mrs Dashwood's attention, for she was at that time in such affliction as rendered her careless of surrounding objects. She saw only that he was quiet and unobtrusive, and she liked him for it. He did not disturb the wretchedness of her mind by ill-timed conversation. She was first called to observe and approve him father by a reflection which Elinor chanced one day to make on the difference between him and his sister. It was a contrast which recommended him most forcibly to her mother. It is enough, said she, to say that he is unlike Fanny is enough. It implies everything amiable. I love him already. I think you will like him, said Elinor, when you know more of him. Like him, replied her mother with a smile. I feel no sentiment of approbation inferior to love. You may esteem him. I have never yet known what it was to separate esteem and love. Mrs. Dashwood now took pains to get acquainted with him. Her manners were attaching and soon banished his reserve. She speedily comprehended all his merits. The persuasion of his regard for Elinor perhaps assisted her penetration. But she really felt assured of his worth, and even that quietness of manner which militated against all her established ideas of what a young man's address ought to be, was no longer uninteresting when she knew his heart to be warm and his temper affectionate. No sooner did she perceive any symptom of love in his behaviour to Elinor, than she considered their serious attachment as certain, and looked forward to their marriage as rapidly approaching. In a few months, my dear Marianne, said she, Elinor will in all probability be settled for life. We shall miss her, but she will be happy.

Speaker 5:
[04:41] This is a letter written by Jane to her sister Cassandra over two days, Wednesday the 2nd to Thursday the 3rd of March, 1814, from their brother Henry's house in Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, whilst she was staying in London. Jane has just arrived in town and begins by describing their journey, during which she and Henry discussed Mansfield Park. She also described some distinctly wintry weather, reminding us that in England, the weather cannot always be relied on to be seasonable, and you must always be prepared for anything, from sunshine and showers to snowstorms and a smart frost.

Speaker 1:
[05:16] My dear Cassandra, you were wrong in thinking of us at Guildford last night. We were at Cobham. On reaching G, we found that John and the horses were gone on. We therefore did no more there than we had done at Farnham, sit in the carriage while fresh horses were put in, and proceeded directly to Cobham, which we reached by seven, and about eight we were sitting down to a very nice roast fowl, etc. We had altogether a very good journey, and everything at Cobham was comfortable. I could not pay Mr. Harrington, that was the only alas of the business. I shall therefore return his bill and my mother's, that you may try your luck. We did not begin reading till Bentley Green. Henry's approbation hitherto is even equal to my wishes. He says it is very different from the other two, but does not appear to think it at all inferior. He has only married Mrs. R. I am afraid he has gone through the most entertaining part. He took to Lady B and Mrs. N most kindly and gives great praise to the drawing of the characters. He understands them all, likes Fanny, and I think foresees how it will all be. I finished The Heroine last night and was very much amused by it. I wonder James did not like it better. It diverted me exceedingly. We went to bed at ten. I was very tired, but slept to a miracle, and am lovely to-day. And at present Henry seems to have no complaint. We left Cobham at half-past eight, stopped to bait and breakfast at Kingston, and were in this house considerably before two, quite in the style of Mr. Knight. Nice smiling Mr. Barlow met us at the door, and in reply to inquiries after news, said that peace was generally expected. I have taken possession of my bedroom, unpacked my band box, sent Miss Pease two letters to the Tuppany Post, been visited by Madame B, and am now writing by myself at the new table in the front room. It is snowing. We had some snowstorms yesterday and a smart frost at night, which gave us a hard road from Cobham to Kingston. But as it was then getting dirty and heavy, Henry had a pair of leaders put on from the latter place to the bottom of Sloan Street. His own horses therefore cannot have had hard work.

Speaker 2:
[07:40] In Mansfield Park, Fanny is particularly aware of the turning seasons, and is emotionally affected by them. It is no surprise that the closest she ever gets to falling in love with Henry Crawford is in the springtime, when the fresh air and sunshine work their magic on her on a Sunday walk on the ramparts in Portsmouth.

Speaker 3:
[08:00] The day was uncommonly lovely. It was really March, but it was April in its mild air, brisk, soft wind and bright sun, occasionally clouded for a minute. And everything looked so beautiful under the influence of such a sky, the effects of the shadows pursuing each other on the ships at Spithead and the island beyond, with the ever varying hues of the sea. Now at high water, dancing in its glee and dashing against the ramparts with so fine a sound, produced all together such a combination of charms for Fanny, as made her gradually almost careless of the circumstances under which she felt them. Nay, had she been without his arm, she would soon have known that she needed it, for she wanted strength for a two-hour saunter of this kind coming, as it generally did upon a week's previous inactivity. Fanny was beginning to feel the effect of being debarred from her usual regular exercise. She had lost ground as to health since her being in Portsmouth, and but for Mr. Crawford in the beauty of the weather, would soon have been knocked up now. The loveliness of the day and of the view, he felt like herself. They often stopped with the same sentiment and taste, leaning against the wall some minutes to look and admire. And considering he was not Edmund, Fanny could not but allow that he was sufficiently open to the charms of nature and very well able to express his admiration. She had a few tender reveries now and then, which he could sometimes take advantage of to look in her face without detection. And the result of these looks was that though as bewitching as ever, her face was less blooming than it ought to be. She said she was very well and did not like to be supposed otherwise. But take it all in all, he was convinced that her present residence could not be comfortable and therefore could not be salatory for her. And he was growing anxious for her being again at Mansfield, where her own happiness and his in seeing her must be so much greater.

Speaker 5:
[10:28] An abiding image of spring is the gradual movement from indoors to outdoors, as the garden comes back to life with bulbs starring the grounds, trees and bushes sprouting buds of new green leaves and catkins. And as the weather warms, bright spring flowers coming into bloom. Here in Shorten, after years of living in Bath and Southampton, the Austen women reveled in their plot of land. Mrs. Austen in particular was a keen gardener and tendered both the flower beds and the vegetable plot. She embarrassed her nephews and nieces by donning a round green laborous smock to tend the garden in and by digging her own potatoes in full view of the road. Jane was also alive to the garden and often mentioned it in her letters, reveling in the changing of the seasons and the appearance of fruit and flowers. On the 29th of May, 1811, she wrote to Cassandra.

Speaker 2:
[11:20] Our young peony at the foot of the fir tree has just blown and looks very handsome. And the whole of the shrubbery border will soon be very gay with pinks and sweet Williams, in addition to the cullumbines already in bloom.

Speaker 5:
[11:34] Indoors, the rooms of Jane Austen's house respond to the changing seasons. As spring brings better weather, the windows reveal blue skies and sunshine, or the patter of spring showers. In the dining room, an unexpected design feature brings the outdoors indoors. In a tangle of wild luxuriant growth, this is the wallpaper, which seems to summon up a line in Pride and Prejudice in which Lady Catherine de Bourgh describes a prettish kind of little wilderness in the grounds of Longbourn.

Speaker 4:
[12:02] The story of the wallpaper begins in a small square cupboard in one corner of the dining room. In here, some years ago, a large tattered fragment of historic wallpaper was discovered beneath several other layers of paper. It featured a pattern of vibrant green leaves piled upon each other in a luxurious jungle. Most of the fragment was dirty and faded, but a small area of the paper, hidden beneath a narrow border, was still fresh and revealed itself as a bright arsenic green, a popular early 19th century colour. On the back of the scrap there is a tax stamp, which helps us to date its manufacture and sale to 1712 to 1836. It is therefore quite probable that this paper was on the walls when Jane Austen was living here. Perhaps it was hung in the spring of 1809, when Edward Knight was preparing the house for his mother and sisters to move in. Today, the walls of this room are covered with a reproduction of this leafy green wallpaper, which has been painstakingly re-created using the traditional hand-blocking technique. Wallpapers like this were fashionable and expensive, so this one tells us something of the Austen women's status in the village. It also served a more practical purpose. The rich colour makes the room feel warm and snug even on a cold, dark winter's evening, when the room was lit only by firelight and flickering candles. In the spring, fires would still be much needed on chilly evenings, and the Austen women would have kept their layers of warm petticoats, gowns and shawls until the summer brought real warmth and long, light days, when the shutters could be left open late and the garden creep in and mingle with the scenery on the walls.

Speaker 5:
[14:01] In Regency England, one of the delights of spring was the transition from heavy winter fare to lighter, fresher foods. As the weather warmed, kitchen gardens produced the first fresh vegetables of the year. Early forced asparagus was highly prized, along with broccoli, celery, spinach, lettuces, spring onions, and watercress, which was grown in the water meadows at Allsford, near to Choughton, as it still is today. Desserts too became lighter in the spring, and diners enjoyed treats such as jellies and syllabubs made with fresh cream rather than heavy stodgy winter puddings. In Martha Lloyd's Household Book, there is a fascinating recipe for thin cream pancake called Choir of Papers, a reference to the way in which paper was sold from the 15th century right up to the 19th century. A choir of paper was typically a packet of 24 sheets of writing paper, which could be bought at a stationer's shop. This recipe produces thin pancakes or crepes, which might be eaten with lemon and sugar for a delicious light springtime dessert, and which feel particularly appropriate to the Austen household, where Jane went through many choirs of paper, transforming them into novels.

Speaker 4:
[15:11] Thin cream pancake, called Choir of Papers. Take to a pint of cream eight eggs, leaving out two whites, three spoonfuls of fine flour, three spoonfuls of sack, and one spoonful of orange flour water, a little sugar, a grated nutmeg, and a quarter of a pound of butter melted in the cream. Mingle all well together, mixing the flour with a little cream at first, that it may be smooth. Butter your pan for the first pancake, and let them run as thin as possible to be whole. When one side is coloured, it is enough. Take them carefully out of the pan, and strew some fine sifted sugar between each. Lay them as even on each other as you can. This quantity will make 20.

Speaker 3:
[16:07] In the spring, things often seem more possible. Love blooms, and our passions carry us away. In Pride and Prejudice, Lizzie's trip to Hunsford takes place in March and April, and it is there that she receives an unexpected and bewildering proposal from Mr. Darcy.

Speaker 1:
[16:27] She was suddenly roused by the sound of the doorbell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening and might now come to inquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an hurried manner, he immediately began to inquire after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then, getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began. In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority, of its being a degradation, of the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination, would dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit. In spite of her deeply rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to receive. Till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself, to answer him with patience when he should have done. He concluded with representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite of all his endeavors, he had found impossible to conquer, and with expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only exasperate father, and when he ceased, the colour rose into her cheeks, and she said, In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot. I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgement of your regard can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation. Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips till he believed himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful. At length, with a voice of forced calmness, he said, And this is all the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting. I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance. I might as well inquire, replied she, why, with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character. Was not this some excuse for incivility if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my feelings decided against you? Had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable? Do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour. But the emotion was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued. I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, and the other to its division, for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in the misery of the acutest kind. She paused and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity. Can you deny that you have done it? she repeated. With assumed tranquillity he then replied, I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him, I have been kinder than towards myself.. A Jane Austen Year was produced by Jane Austen's House in Choughton, Hampshire, the most treasured Austen site in the world. If you enjoyed it, we think you'd also love our new book, A Jane Austen Year, a gorgeous coffee table book full of pictures, extracts and stories, available now from our online shop and from all good bookshops. Don't forget, you can also visit us, in person, at Jane Austen's house in Jordan, or online at janeaustens.house.