Knowing I'm a Jane Austen fan Kathleen sent me this postcard. I enjoy Austen's sense of humor. It is in the class of wit belonging to genius. This is now one of my favorite quotes. Thanks, Kathleen!
The postcard reads: Expect a most agreeable letter, for not being overshadowed by subject--having nothing at all to say, there shall be no check to my genius from beginning to end.
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Regular readers know I am a Jane Austen fan. What's not to like about Jane after all? I received a small stash of Jane Austen goodies from Anna who had a chance to visit The Jane Austen Centre in Bath. It seems that everyone in Austen's novels visits Bath and Jane herself lived there several years. Most of us will never have a chance to visit The Jane Austen Centre in Bath but not to worry, we can visit online any time. at http://www.janeausten.co.uk/. I enjoyed the visit myself and even found a recipe for Mrs. Darcy's Favorite Beefsteak Dinner. I find the picture of the Circulating Library very interesting. Anna tells me this library would have been in use during Jane's time. Circulating libraries were popular in England in that day. Free libraries as we know them did not exist but circulating libraries were similar. Patrons paid a yearly fee and could borrow a limited number of books which accrued fines if not returned on time. Books were very expensive in that day so Circulating Libraries made reading new books much more affordable. You can learn more about circulating libraries at British Circulating Libraries: 1725-1966.
Felicity. That is a word I learned from Jane Austen. It is one of her favorites and means "happiness." Felicity is on my mind because I have been reading Austen and writing letters. Today as I sat down to write I was struck with the comfort I find in penning a letter. This is not a novel feeling or an unexpected one; I was just especially aware of it today. Perhaps the small stack of respond-to-letters encouraged in me this sense of comfort (those large stacks can seem so daunting). Comfort and felicity come not only through writing letters but also through reading them. Because of this, I particularly like carrying letters with me when I anticipate having to wait somewhere such as the dentist's office or the Department of Motor Vehicles. Pulling out a letter and reading it in public makes any present discomfort fade as the letter's civility provides a hedge against my surroundings. How better to pass an hour at the DMV than in silent conversation with a friend? Only in a letter can I find both solitude and friendship; both silence and conversation. What felicitous comfort is to be found in a letter.
The past few weeks have been hectic and writing letters has existed mostly on my to do list. I regret this, of course and admit that I am entirely to blame though I would like to cast blame on a hectic schedule. I see from my last post that lately I have really had a problem sitting down to write. I find that when I am content to let a good deed remain a mere good intention, having good intentions becomes easy and comfortable and I can soon congratulate myself on meaning well. Meaning well doesn't quite earn the same sort of credit as doing well, does it?
Today I jumped of the merry-go-round of business and sat down to write. It felt so good to put pen to paper with the thoughts of my heart directed toward another person. This is the sort of comfort I enjoy most so how can I neglect it even for a day? Writing a letter feels as good as wrapping myself in a blanket and reading a Jane Austen novel. Tomorrow when I sit down with Jane I will sit also with paper and pen ready for a dear one to come to mind. And when they do I will tell them so. Good deeds are so much more rewarding than good intentions. Evidence of my various activities is scattered throughout the house like Easter eggs on the White House lawn. The dining room table is especially hard hit by a blizzard of my personal effects. As I write, I see my weekly calendar, a stack of files that have no filing cabinet to call home, my stationery and stamps, sealing wax with its paraphernalia, a stack of random papers, and...you get the idea. There is more but I have no wish to bore you to tears. I have complained of not having my own desk, and perhaps by leaving my clutter in open view, I am subconsciously communicating to my husband that I really need that roll top desk I very consciously requested for my birthday. I dream of having such a desk at which to sit while writing letters and doing other important, though not as enjoyable, things. As I followed a series of internet links just now my attitude was rebuked by the simplicity of genius. Below is a picture of Jane Austen's writing table. Yes, that's it. It appears to be slightly larger than a dinner plate. And to think that all this time I have enjoyed a whole dinner table. Jane has offered me a reality check and I have accepted. I will now find a more suitable home for my things, tidy up, and be content. You can read the article about Jane Austen's writing table here.
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Letter Matters
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