The Bath years, the writing falters, but the research doesn’t
George Austen had had it by 1801. He had been rector of two parishes, Steventon and Deane, for thirty-seven years. He had conducted two, maybe three services a week at the two churches. He had visited the poor, the sick, administered last rites to the dying, and buried them in the churchyards. He had home-tutored pupils who had lived in his house year-round to prepare for the university. His wife had to be their de facto mother, and she had fed them, washed their linens, and tended to their fever and chills. All this, to make extra money to supplement George Austen’s income. Now, his children were grown up, some were married (Jane and her sister Cassandra were not, and were still at home), he was old(er) and in poor health, and he wanted to live the rest of his life out in a relative peace. Continue Reading
