| This blog explores social attitudes in Jane Austen's time, discusses her novels, reviews forgotten 18th century novels, and throws some occasional shade at the modern academy. The introductory post is here. My "six simple questions for academics" post is here. This post continues the synopsis and review of What Has Been, an 1801 sentimental novel by Eliza Kirkham Mathews. |
CMP#188 What Has Been: the short life and forlorn hopes of Eliza Kirkham Mathews, part 2
Continued from the previous post: The letter telling poor Emily that the man she loves drowned in a shipwreck is the evil work of a friend of Mr. St. Ives. The scheming Mr. Besfield wants to tighten the net around Emily until she consents to become his mistress. When she promises to pay her aunt's and her mother's debts and then her bank goes bankrupt, leaving her with nothing, he sees his chance. Her misfortunes, she tells Besfield, “have rendered her a creature, lost to joy in this world… but she preferred imprisonment, death, all the accumulated sorrows which injustice or cruelty could devise, to loss of honour!”
“Proud, imperious girl!” [Besfield retorts] while his eyes glared wildly in their sockets. “beware of what you do, for remember no insult to me goes unrevenged!”
We later learn that with the connivance of Mr. St. Ives, the evil Besfield kidnapped Frederick and locked him up in a cottage. Frederick defies him: “You threaten to destroy the peace and innocence of the lovely Emily Osmond. Reptile! One glance from her eyes, beaming beauty and virtue, shall disarm thee of all power to injure her unsullied purity!"
To hide from the villain Besfield and from debt-collectors, Emily flees to the mouldering old family castle and the affectionate embrace of the two garrulous but loyal old domestics. Naturally, since she's a heroine and they are servants, they look after her, serving her meals, etc. Not that she eats much--she's usually too upset to eat. She spends her time looking out of the window sighing, and going for pensive walks and--oh, lord--composing sonnets. Emily never volunteers to dust the library books or anything. (I know I've banged on about this before, but really, imagine being so genteel that you don't know how to wash a plate or boil an egg and just take it for granted that someone else will do it for you.)
“Proud, imperious girl!” [Besfield retorts] while his eyes glared wildly in their sockets. “beware of what you do, for remember no insult to me goes unrevenged!”
We later learn that with the connivance of Mr. St. Ives, the evil Besfield kidnapped Frederick and locked him up in a cottage. Frederick defies him: “You threaten to destroy the peace and innocence of the lovely Emily Osmond. Reptile! One glance from her eyes, beaming beauty and virtue, shall disarm thee of all power to injure her unsullied purity!"
To hide from the villain Besfield and from debt-collectors, Emily flees to the mouldering old family castle and the affectionate embrace of the two garrulous but loyal old domestics. Naturally, since she's a heroine and they are servants, they look after her, serving her meals, etc. Not that she eats much--she's usually too upset to eat. She spends her time looking out of the window sighing, and going for pensive walks and--oh, lord--composing sonnets. Emily never volunteers to dust the library books or anything. (I know I've banged on about this before, but really, imagine being so genteel that you don't know how to wash a plate or boil an egg and just take it for granted that someone else will do it for you.)
Gothic elements
Anyway, Emily has some gothic adventures. She finds an old manuscript in a chest; the brief but pathetic history of her ancestor, Mildred St. Maur, who was cast off by the family. “Be calm, my heart, awhile, that I may trace my sad, sad, tale of woe…”
There is no indication that she uses her ancestor’s manuscript in her own novel, or for that matter, that she realizes -–hey, my own life is exactly like a novel! I might as well write down what is happening to me, right now! We have no details about the “work of fancy” she is writing.
One night, she hears noises and fears the bailiffs have broken in to the castle to arrest her: “Undetermined how to act, she raised the almost expiring candle in the socket, and was returning to her chamber, when, lifting her eyes, she beheld the figure of a tall man standing at the door. Uttering a piercing shriek, and only anxious to escape the stranger, Emily lifted the tapestry, and ran, or rather flew into the great gallery, where, stumbling over something which lay in her way, the candle was extinguished, and in the next moment she felt herself clasped in the arms of a man, and lifted from the ground.” End of volume I, folks!
Anyway, Emily has some gothic adventures. She finds an old manuscript in a chest; the brief but pathetic history of her ancestor, Mildred St. Maur, who was cast off by the family. “Be calm, my heart, awhile, that I may trace my sad, sad, tale of woe…”
There is no indication that she uses her ancestor’s manuscript in her own novel, or for that matter, that she realizes -–hey, my own life is exactly like a novel! I might as well write down what is happening to me, right now! We have no details about the “work of fancy” she is writing.
One night, she hears noises and fears the bailiffs have broken in to the castle to arrest her: “Undetermined how to act, she raised the almost expiring candle in the socket, and was returning to her chamber, when, lifting her eyes, she beheld the figure of a tall man standing at the door. Uttering a piercing shriek, and only anxious to escape the stranger, Emily lifted the tapestry, and ran, or rather flew into the great gallery, where, stumbling over something which lay in her way, the candle was extinguished, and in the next moment she felt herself clasped in the arms of a man, and lifted from the ground.” End of volume I, folks!
Surprise! Spoilers!
But don’t worry, it’s Frederick! He escaped from Mr. Besfield’s clutches!
Frederick begs Emily to marry him. So what if they don't have any money? “I will be your protector, friend, and husband; the labour of these hands shall procure the necessaries of life.” he vows. “Those,” said Emily, “are the fallacious visions which hope presents to your enthusiastic fancy. Alas! We are surrounded by melancholy realities.” She marries him, though, with much foreboding.
The love birds sneak out of the castle and set up in London where Frederick reluctantly looks for employment as a clerk but since he has no references he can’t find a job. Emily keeps her stiff upper lip as Frederick despairs. She urges him to keep trying: “perseverance and resolution conquer every difficulty.” It turns out that Frederick is so committed to female equality that he's fine with his wife being the chief breadwinner! So he convinces himself that she can write a best-seller.
“Is it possible,” replied Frederick, “that you, Emily, can wish me to become the slave of commerce, when so many more eligible plans are open for our future subsistence? Do not entertain so contemptible an idea of your own talents, as to suppose they will not effectually emancipate us from the dread of poverty, and render our future lives comfortable!”
But don’t worry, it’s Frederick! He escaped from Mr. Besfield’s clutches!
Frederick begs Emily to marry him. So what if they don't have any money? “I will be your protector, friend, and husband; the labour of these hands shall procure the necessaries of life.” he vows. “Those,” said Emily, “are the fallacious visions which hope presents to your enthusiastic fancy. Alas! We are surrounded by melancholy realities.” She marries him, though, with much foreboding.
The love birds sneak out of the castle and set up in London where Frederick reluctantly looks for employment as a clerk but since he has no references he can’t find a job. Emily keeps her stiff upper lip as Frederick despairs. She urges him to keep trying: “perseverance and resolution conquer every difficulty.” It turns out that Frederick is so committed to female equality that he's fine with his wife being the chief breadwinner! So he convinces himself that she can write a best-seller.
“Is it possible,” replied Frederick, “that you, Emily, can wish me to become the slave of commerce, when so many more eligible plans are open for our future subsistence? Do not entertain so contemptible an idea of your own talents, as to suppose they will not effectually emancipate us from the dread of poverty, and render our future lives comfortable!”
Lawson and Agatha subplot
A new London friend, Mr. Lawson, lures Frederick into gambling and socializing until the wee small hours. His real target is Emily. When he has her alone, he expresses sympathy, and offers to be her “friend in the absence of your husband.” “Can a woman, possessing the exalted understanding which you do, be so prejudiced by that hydra-headed monster, custom, as to prevent you from using your reasoning faculties? Or are you frightened by the bugbear religion, which priests hold forth to ensnare weak and enthusiastic minds?" But the old “marriage is just priestcraft” argument doesn’t work on our Emily. So he turns to threats. He has lent money to Frederick and will send him to debtor’s prison: “by Heaven I swear, such shall be his fate, if you longer resist my entreaties!”
“Then I will meet it with fortitude,” replied Emily, “and welcome any affliction, rather than purchase safety and affluence at the price of dishonour!”
Lawson’s discarded and dying mistress Agatha shows up. He is filled with remorse when she forgives him on her deathbed: “But hark! I am called to heaven! Even now a band of angels strike on their golden viols. Ye bright intelligences, I come to bliss!... Nothing but virtue can secure peace in this world; delay not the hour of repentance. God—bless—you!” Lawson also dies, of remorse.
I'll have more about how Mathews used this subplot to introduce feminist and anti-slavery themes in a future post.
A new London friend, Mr. Lawson, lures Frederick into gambling and socializing until the wee small hours. His real target is Emily. When he has her alone, he expresses sympathy, and offers to be her “friend in the absence of your husband.” “Can a woman, possessing the exalted understanding which you do, be so prejudiced by that hydra-headed monster, custom, as to prevent you from using your reasoning faculties? Or are you frightened by the bugbear religion, which priests hold forth to ensnare weak and enthusiastic minds?" But the old “marriage is just priestcraft” argument doesn’t work on our Emily. So he turns to threats. He has lent money to Frederick and will send him to debtor’s prison: “by Heaven I swear, such shall be his fate, if you longer resist my entreaties!”
“Then I will meet it with fortitude,” replied Emily, “and welcome any affliction, rather than purchase safety and affluence at the price of dishonour!”
Lawson’s discarded and dying mistress Agatha shows up. He is filled with remorse when she forgives him on her deathbed: “But hark! I am called to heaven! Even now a band of angels strike on their golden viols. Ye bright intelligences, I come to bliss!... Nothing but virtue can secure peace in this world; delay not the hour of repentance. God—bless—you!” Lawson also dies, of remorse.
I'll have more about how Mathews used this subplot to introduce feminist and anti-slavery themes in a future post.
Bing AI Image More troubles before our happy ending
Things still get worse for Emily and Frederick. They can’t pay their rent, they start pawning their clothes to get food to eat. (The grasping landlords and landladies in this novel for some strange reason begrudge providing free shelter to their social superiors). Emily does not take in sewing. She works on her novel and gives birth to a son, who sickens and dies.
Frederick is wrongfully accused of murder because he was in a church graveyard, surreptitiously burying his infant son at midnight, when a murder occurred nearby. This final blow—no money at all and Frederick in prison--will surely force Emily into the arms of that lascivious vulture, Mr. Besfield. No, she wanders the streets of London until collapsing at the doorway of a respectable dwelling which turns out to be the new home of her cousin Dorothea, who has just received a convenient inheritance!
But that’s not all! Emily’s wealthy uncle Mr. Hartfield realizes that he can’t stand Mrs. Elton, who is only dancing attendance on him in hopes of inheriting his money, and sets out to find Emily and discover first-hand whether all the nasty things Mrs. Elton said about her are true.
With the help of a friendly lawyer, Mr. Hartfield gets Frederick out of prison. They all shake the dust of the city from their feet. “Great cities,” said Mr. Hartford, “are nothing more than a sink for vice and folly… commerce! Civilization! Why, they have introduced more vices and follies than can ever be known in a country where agriculture is its chief support.” He makes Emily and Frederick his heirs and they live comfortably and happily with the garrulous but loyal old domestics at the old family castle.
“Emily still dedicated some hours in the day to study; her pen rendering her talents a means of enlarging their income, and the instruction she diffused useful to society at large. The subjects she chose tended to expand the understanding, meliorate the heart, and ‘justify the ways of God to man.’” Frederick, we suppose, lives the cultivated life of a gentleman that he was born to live.
Things still get worse for Emily and Frederick. They can’t pay their rent, they start pawning their clothes to get food to eat. (The grasping landlords and landladies in this novel for some strange reason begrudge providing free shelter to their social superiors). Emily does not take in sewing. She works on her novel and gives birth to a son, who sickens and dies.
Frederick is wrongfully accused of murder because he was in a church graveyard, surreptitiously burying his infant son at midnight, when a murder occurred nearby. This final blow—no money at all and Frederick in prison--will surely force Emily into the arms of that lascivious vulture, Mr. Besfield. No, she wanders the streets of London until collapsing at the doorway of a respectable dwelling which turns out to be the new home of her cousin Dorothea, who has just received a convenient inheritance!
But that’s not all! Emily’s wealthy uncle Mr. Hartfield realizes that he can’t stand Mrs. Elton, who is only dancing attendance on him in hopes of inheriting his money, and sets out to find Emily and discover first-hand whether all the nasty things Mrs. Elton said about her are true.
With the help of a friendly lawyer, Mr. Hartfield gets Frederick out of prison. They all shake the dust of the city from their feet. “Great cities,” said Mr. Hartford, “are nothing more than a sink for vice and folly… commerce! Civilization! Why, they have introduced more vices and follies than can ever be known in a country where agriculture is its chief support.” He makes Emily and Frederick his heirs and they live comfortably and happily with the garrulous but loyal old domestics at the old family castle.
“Emily still dedicated some hours in the day to study; her pen rendering her talents a means of enlarging their income, and the instruction she diffused useful to society at large. The subjects she chose tended to expand the understanding, meliorate the heart, and ‘justify the ways of God to man.’” Frederick, we suppose, lives the cultivated life of a gentleman that he was born to live.
St. Mary Castlegate church in York, where Eliza was buried. Wikimedia photo by Chris06 Portrait of an aspiring author
Emily never publishes her novel in this book, but she does receive encouragement from a publisher. Mathews breaks into the narrative to address the reader directly : “And here let me gratify the ardent desire I feel of describing a man, for whom all who know him must feel the highest veneration…. He appeared about forty-five, yet in truth was seven years older…” This may be a flattering portrait of William Lane, the proprietor of the Minerva Press. Eliza might have met him in person when, as a newlywed, she visited London with her husband to meet his family. Perhaps she had an early draft of her novel and made the rounds of the publishers.
The publisher in the book praises Emily’s draft manuscript, “which evinces purity of mind in the author, and derives… the brightest instructions in the ways of virtue and religion—though it abounds in highly coloured imagery, sentiment, and intelligence, it is, in its present state, unfit for the press—it wants connection." He encourages her to revise it “then return it to me, and I will become its purchaser.”
I don’t know what he means by “connection.” Maybe he meant the dangling sub-plots and the characters who come and go. My theory is that William Lane, well acquainted with what the patrons of his circulating libraries liked or didn’t like, gave specific directions to his authors: “Can you work in a castle, Mrs. Mathews? Maybe an old manuscript? We'll need some comic relief--put in a garrulous old domestic. And instead of just one vile seducer, how about another one for the second volume?” In fact, we know that Eliza's brother-in-law was her agent with Minerva Press in London when she was in York. He reported that the publisher's wife made "some sensible suggestions" for "alterations," which he (the brother in law) put in. "I hope it has improved it."
Emily never publishes her novel in this book, but she does receive encouragement from a publisher. Mathews breaks into the narrative to address the reader directly : “And here let me gratify the ardent desire I feel of describing a man, for whom all who know him must feel the highest veneration…. He appeared about forty-five, yet in truth was seven years older…” This may be a flattering portrait of William Lane, the proprietor of the Minerva Press. Eliza might have met him in person when, as a newlywed, she visited London with her husband to meet his family. Perhaps she had an early draft of her novel and made the rounds of the publishers.
The publisher in the book praises Emily’s draft manuscript, “which evinces purity of mind in the author, and derives… the brightest instructions in the ways of virtue and religion—though it abounds in highly coloured imagery, sentiment, and intelligence, it is, in its present state, unfit for the press—it wants connection." He encourages her to revise it “then return it to me, and I will become its purchaser.”
I don’t know what he means by “connection.” Maybe he meant the dangling sub-plots and the characters who come and go. My theory is that William Lane, well acquainted with what the patrons of his circulating libraries liked or didn’t like, gave specific directions to his authors: “Can you work in a castle, Mrs. Mathews? Maybe an old manuscript? We'll need some comic relief--put in a garrulous old domestic. And instead of just one vile seducer, how about another one for the second volume?” In fact, we know that Eliza's brother-in-law was her agent with Minerva Press in London when she was in York. He reported that the publisher's wife made "some sensible suggestions" for "alterations," which he (the brother in law) put in. "I hope it has improved it."
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