Taking a Literary Vacation

by Janis Wildy

There is nothing quite so indulging to your writerly roots as visiting the haunts of a favorite writer. Perhaps you have all of his or her books, have diagrammed them even, and imagined the sacrifices the author made to write. But to visit the room where the author actually wrote, or the pub where he or she hung out with friends is the privilege of the literary traveler.

Two years ago, I planned the ultimate fan trip to England to see the places that centered in Jane Austen's life. I adore Jane Austen's witty characters and by visiting her world, I was hoping some of her writerliness would rub off on me. My friend Sophie and I, newly inspired by repeated viewings of Pride and Prejudice on A&E Television, were determined to make the voyage.

We made a list of places mentioned in the book, as well as the places where she lived. I also went to www.Pemberley.com to read about other people's trips to the same places. Reading their stories online made it all seem possible.

Our Jane journey began in Derbyshire. We stayed in the most charming B&B located down a country lane and surrounded by rolling green hills and sheep. It wasn't hard to imagine Jane and her sister Cassandra strolling along the woodland trails wearing their bonnets and boots.

After a good English breakfast of creamy oatmeal, bacon, eggs, toast, cooked tomatoes and stewed prunes, we waddled out to the car determined to pack in as many Austen sites as possible.

We pulled up to Chatsworth house; the most likely stand–in for the Darcy Estate in Pride and Prejudice. This is where Darcy catches Elizabeth visiting the property with her aunt and uncle. In the movie, this is the basis for the pond shot where Colin Firth/Darcy emerges after a long hot horse ride--dripping wet, shirtless and in breeches--from the waterway that constitutes his front lawn. My friend and I searched for handsome English men emerging from ponds, but had to comfort ourselves with glimpses of free-ranging royal ducks.

Chatsworth house was grand, but I didn't get a sense of Jane Austen, the writer, here. She herself allegedly traveled through this gorgeous part of England but had only imagined the wonders inside the lavish country houses.

That night, I read her description of where we were in the book. "The hill crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight."

It was sad to leave such a lovely place. Even if Jane never lived here, her words made the place come alive. But we only had so many days, so we hopped in the car and headed south.

In Bath, we came a little closer to Jane Austen's real life. She lived here for around four years, from 1801-1805. A museum and walking tour are available for the literary traveler with the time to learn more about this period of Jane's life. Unfortunately, our travel schedule didn't match up to when the museum was open. We walked along the sidewalks instead, imagining the scenes from Persuasion. The formal square buildings and narrow streets were the same as in Jane's time, even if some of the shops had changed into pizza joints. But still I got no sense of the real Jane.

Our last two nights, we stayed in Hampshire at a B&B that had served as a morgue. A creek ran alongside the house and birds sang loudly every morning. The proprietress made her own marmalade and the pub across the street served up Guinness and Sticky Toffee Pudding. I was afraid our trip was becoming more a pilgrimage for my stomach than for my writing heart.

But one cloudy morning, we drove across flat, grain-covered fields toward Chawton, the site of Jane's last home. After living in Bath, Jane, her sister and mother took up residence in a smaller home down the lane from her brother's larger estate. I entered the house hoping once again to get a sense of Jane. The stern white-haired man taking money wasn't what I expected and I hoped this wouldn't be a dry lifeless museum.

However, when we entered the dining room, my whole perspective changed. In this simple room, it was all there. In a cabinet, a lock of her hair. On the walls, likenesses of Jane and her sister. By the window, the tiny table where she had scribbled discreetly on little notes, and at the stairwell, the sticky, squeaky door that alerted her when visitors were approaching. In the center of the room, a dining table was laid with the family china. It was looking at this blue pattern encircling the white dishes that I knew I was finally in her presence. These weren't museum pieces to me. I knew that Jane had actually gone with her brother to pick them out. All I had to do was squint my eyes, and I could fly back in time and imagine her world come to life.

I had found Jane.

Could I, in our modern times, ever moan again about the drawbacks of writing when I had seen the conditions in which she worked? (Apparently, yes.) I held my breath while reading from the displayed letters that contained inspirations from her books. The best discovery of all though, was in the fact she lived a simple joyous life among her family, friends and garden. She wasn't an elite savant, she was a human, and a writer, just like myself.

Janis Wildy is currently revising her novel, Backstage Pass. She recently attended the Willamette and Surrey Writer's conferences.