A Memoir of Jane Austen

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CHAPTER VIII
Slow growth of her fame––Ill success of first attempts at publication––
Two Reviews of her works contrasted
SELDOM has any literary reputation been of such slow growth as
that of Jane Austen. Readers of the present day know the rank
that is generally assigned to her. They have been told by Archbishop
Whately, in his review of her works, and by Lord
Macaulay, in his review of Madame D’Arblay’s,° the reason why
the highest place is to be awarded to Jane Austen, as a truthful
drawer of character, and why she is to be classed with those who
have approached nearest, in that respect, to the great master
Shakspeare. They see her safely placed, by such authorities, in
her niche, not indeed amongst the highest orders of genius, but in
one confessedly her own, in our British temple of literary fame;
and it may be difficult to make them believe how coldly her works
were at first received, and how few readers had any appreciation
of their peculiar merits. Sometimes a friend or neighbour, who
chanced to know of our connection with the author, would condescend
to speak with moderate approbation of ‘Sense and Sensibility,’
or ‘Pride and Prejudice’; but if they had known that we, in
our secret thoughts, classed her with Madame D’Arblay or Miss
Edgeworth, or even with some other novel writers of the day
whose names are now scarcely remembered, they would have
considered it an amusing instance of family conceit. To the multitude
her works appeared tame and commonplace, 1 poor in colouring,
and sadly deficient in incident and interest. It is true that we
1 A greater genius than my aunt shared with her the imputation of being commonplace.
Lockhart, speaking of the low estimation in which Scott’s conversational powers
were held in the literary and scientific society of Edinburgh, says: ‘I think the epithet
most in vogue concerning it was “commonplace.” ’ He adds, however, that one of the
most eminent of that society was of a different opinion, ‘who, when some glib youth
chanced to echo in his hearing the consolatory tenet of local mediocrity, answered
quietly, “I have the misfortune to think differently from you––in my humble opinion
Walter Scott’s sense is a still more wonderful thing than his genius.” ’––Lockhart’s Life
of Scott, vol. iv. chap. v.