| Sorry, I do not have a new guest editorial for this year's April Fools. You can read some of the previous guest editorials starting here. This post is one in a continuing series in which I look at the novels which were possibly written by the same author who wrote The Woman of Colour (1808). |
CMP#245 It Sucks to be an Author! Just ask Miss Letsom
Possibly Jane Austen in London Yes, I've noticed that Writing Twitter and Writing Facebook are all about posts bemoaning the hardships that attend the life of a writer--oh, it' so hard to settle down and concentrate on writing, you spend hours in front of your keyboard with nothing to show for it, people are always saying insensitive or stupid things to you, then there is time you waste in research rabbit holes and nobody cares. When I read these complaints, I think to myself, well, nobody's holding a gun to your head, just don't be a writer.
But none of these social media memes hold a candle to the epic monologue of a character in Substance and Shadow, which I previously reviewed. This is from the anonymous author of the string of novels attributed to the author of The Woman of Colour. I’m sharing this for the interest of professors and students looking into the lives of female authors in Regency times and the way they represented themselves in print.
The fictional Miss Letsom is accused of putting real characters into her novels, something Jane Austen also faced....
But none of these social media memes hold a candle to the epic monologue of a character in Substance and Shadow, which I previously reviewed. This is from the anonymous author of the string of novels attributed to the author of The Woman of Colour. I’m sharing this for the interest of professors and students looking into the lives of female authors in Regency times and the way they represented themselves in print.
The fictional Miss Letsom is accused of putting real characters into her novels, something Jane Austen also faced....
It's always the quiet ones
Miss Letsom is the impoverished orphan of a clergyman, working as the gentlewoman companion of a peevish East Indian nabob’s wife. Although she almost never speaks in company, here she is alone with the heroine, telling her backstory. She explains she needed to make money: “I fancied that I could manage to support myself decently and honourably by my pen.” She first attempts to write poetry about the “rudely-sublime scenery… drawn from nature and with the pencil of truth [which] must, I thought, come home to the tastes and the tastes and the feelings of all readers; but without interest [by which she means a patron], without a name, without a recommendation, I soon found that it was an Herculean labour to get a bookseller to read my poem, so I was forced to lock it up, with all its beauties, and set myself, with renewed courage and renewed perseverance, to the fabrication of a novel. Productions of this kind were, I knew, in general request; every body read them, therefore I should be sure of a purchaser. I have naturally a little turn for satire… Though I had resided in a remote part of England, yet the universal taste for the romantic beauties of nature (or the universal profession of such a taste) had drawn numerous individuals to our neighbourhood, who had afforded me an opportunity of studying the human character… I did not attempt at fine flights or bold inventions, my portraits were from nature alone"
Miss Letsom is the impoverished orphan of a clergyman, working as the gentlewoman companion of a peevish East Indian nabob’s wife. Although she almost never speaks in company, here she is alone with the heroine, telling her backstory. She explains she needed to make money: “I fancied that I could manage to support myself decently and honourably by my pen.” She first attempts to write poetry about the “rudely-sublime scenery… drawn from nature and with the pencil of truth [which] must, I thought, come home to the tastes and the tastes and the feelings of all readers; but without interest [by which she means a patron], without a name, without a recommendation, I soon found that it was an Herculean labour to get a bookseller to read my poem, so I was forced to lock it up, with all its beauties, and set myself, with renewed courage and renewed perseverance, to the fabrication of a novel. Productions of this kind were, I knew, in general request; every body read them, therefore I should be sure of a purchaser. I have naturally a little turn for satire… Though I had resided in a remote part of England, yet the universal taste for the romantic beauties of nature (or the universal profession of such a taste) had drawn numerous individuals to our neighbourhood, who had afforded me an opportunity of studying the human character… I did not attempt at fine flights or bold inventions, my portraits were from nature alone"
Then she briefly segues into poking fun at melodramatic gothic novels and complains that her own novels met with a chilly reception because they were more realistic and drawn from nature.
| And as there were no terrific images, no improbable adventures, no northern galleries, no peopled palaces, no dying sounds of nightly music, nor clanking chains at the dread hour of midnight, I had very little chance of success with one class of readers, namely, the devourers of ghosts and goblins; while those who were fond of the highly-wrought, glowing colouring pictures of the imagination and the heart, were equally disappointed; my book was thrown by with apathy and disgust, and doomed to eternal oblivion—not so the poor authoress; my occupation had been suspected, and suspicions were soon substantiated into facts; and from that moment I was stared at, as though I had not belonged or appertained to the human species. If I know my own heart… neither malice, rancour, or envy, had ever guided my pen; but it was impossible to convince the world of this... |
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One is reminded of an unflattering anecdote of Jane Austen: “she was no more regarded in society than a poker or fire screen or any other thin, upright piece of wood or iron that fills its corner in peace and quiet” but once she became known to be an author, she was “still a poker but a poker of whom everyone is afraid.”
But pardon the interruption. Please continue, Miss Letsom:
But pardon the interruption. Please continue, Miss Letsom:
| "I had no objection to solitude or to retirement; but to be utterly excluded from all social converse, to be shunned as a criminal, and to be dreaded as a censor, when I was free from guilt as from malice, and when I had only exerted my humble abilities with the hope of earning a decent and honest maintenance—all cut me to the quick; all my prospects seemed blighted in the bud; my energies were stagnated, my spirits drooped, my feelings had received a sore wound, all my self-confidence was lost.” |
She is summoned to the home of a Lady Sawbridge, who is convinced that Miss Letsom’s portrait of a worldly noblewoman is a portrait of herself. Miss Letsom protests “I had never heard your name, neither did I know that you were in existence.”
Later, she is accosted by a woman who is convinced that she was the inspiration for one of her heroines.
Later, she is accosted by a woman who is convinced that she was the inspiration for one of her heroines.
 “I am Miss Marlow, I am the very creature whom you pourtrayed as the heroine of your last tale—every incident of it the very same as my own life—the birth—the beauty—the graces—the virtues—you have flattered me a little, sweet geel—a little—little bit” “I began to think my visitor deranged; for, could I look at the being before me, and believe that, in her sober senses, she could fancy herself the heroine of a novel, an heroine whom I had certainly depicted as all that was lovely, and worthy of being beloved in woman? ‘My dear madam,’ said I, ‘my Zulima was entirely an imaginary character==I had not the least idea that=-- ‘Don’t say another word, my dee geel,’ said she. |
Those two previous sketches were intended by the author to be humorous but I've cut them down for length.
Second Austen interruption: Janeites will know that Jane Austen was also accused of copying real people. Her nephew wrote: “She did not copy individuals… A reviewer in the Quarterly speaks of an acquaintance who, ever since the publication of Pride and Prejudice, had been called by his friends Mr. Bennet, but the author did not know him… she herself, when questioned on the subject by a friend, expressed a dread of what she called such an ‘invasion of social proprieties.’ She said that she thought it quite fair to note peculiarities…. ‘besides,’ she added, ‘I am too proud of my gentlemen to admit that they were only Mr. A. or Colonel B."
Second Austen interruption: Janeites will know that Jane Austen was also accused of copying real people. Her nephew wrote: “She did not copy individuals… A reviewer in the Quarterly speaks of an acquaintance who, ever since the publication of Pride and Prejudice, had been called by his friends Mr. Bennet, but the author did not know him… she herself, when questioned on the subject by a friend, expressed a dread of what she called such an ‘invasion of social proprieties.’ She said that she thought it quite fair to note peculiarities…. ‘besides,’ she added, ‘I am too proud of my gentlemen to admit that they were only Mr. A. or Colonel B."
Our story resumes:
Finally, a local lady, Mrs. Bannister, approaches Miss Letsom and tells her she did well to disguise her critical portraits of her neighbours: “I do not blame you for concealing your name; perhaps it may be as well, all things considered; our acquaintances do not like to be lashed openly.”
Miss Letsom protests that her neighbors were not her targets: “general folly and general turpitude call for the author’s lash, and this maybe done openly and with honest courage; but to aim an oblique shaft, in order to wound the breast of an acquaintance, is neither the part of the moralist or the Christian."
Mrs. Bannister urges her to put Lady Sawbridge into her novel so that everyone will recognize her: “her known infamy deserve[s] to be taken off… get every anecdote you can procure of her past life; insert them as a sort of episode to your main story… it will afford a nice contrast to the character of your heroine, who, like all heroines, I conclude, will be a piece of perfection… but, whatever you do, pray do not fail to make the likeness of Lady Sawbridge apparent; make it plain to every reader, I beseech you, and, lest it should not be sufficiently obvious, call her lady S------. Do this, my dear girl, and I will promise you to take fifty copies.”
After Miss Letsom indignantly refuses, Mrs. Bannister explains that she was, in fact, testing her integrity and she has passed the test. She promises to be “your sincere friend, your zealous champion, and say what shall I do to serve you?”
Finally, a local lady, Mrs. Bannister, approaches Miss Letsom and tells her she did well to disguise her critical portraits of her neighbours: “I do not blame you for concealing your name; perhaps it may be as well, all things considered; our acquaintances do not like to be lashed openly.”
Miss Letsom protests that her neighbors were not her targets: “general folly and general turpitude call for the author’s lash, and this maybe done openly and with honest courage; but to aim an oblique shaft, in order to wound the breast of an acquaintance, is neither the part of the moralist or the Christian."
Mrs. Bannister urges her to put Lady Sawbridge into her novel so that everyone will recognize her: “her known infamy deserve[s] to be taken off… get every anecdote you can procure of her past life; insert them as a sort of episode to your main story… it will afford a nice contrast to the character of your heroine, who, like all heroines, I conclude, will be a piece of perfection… but, whatever you do, pray do not fail to make the likeness of Lady Sawbridge apparent; make it plain to every reader, I beseech you, and, lest it should not be sufficiently obvious, call her lady S------. Do this, my dear girl, and I will promise you to take fifty copies.”
After Miss Letsom indignantly refuses, Mrs. Bannister explains that she was, in fact, testing her integrity and she has passed the test. She promises to be “your sincere friend, your zealous champion, and say what shall I do to serve you?”
Miss Letsom laments that “in trying to be independent of the world, I have drawn down all its odium on my defenceless head. Heaven knows that I never protruded myself as an author, to gratify any feelings of ambition or vanity; how lamentably should I have suffered for my folly, had this been the case, for I have met with nothing but contumely and mortification!... How my name was first discovered as an authoress, is entirely unknown to me; but ever since have I been carped at, contemned, scorned, and hunted down, as if I were indeed a social pest!”
She resolves to abandon authorship: “I will desert all in which I have delighted, I will burn my papers, I will throw aside my pen, I will divest myself of all relish for mental occupation.”
The anonymous author of this novel went on writing and publishing for another five years, if the attribution chain for The Woman of Colour is to be believed.
Other novelists who wrote biographically about their experiences trying to get published include favourite of this blog, Eliza Kirkham Mathews.
She resolves to abandon authorship: “I will desert all in which I have delighted, I will burn my papers, I will throw aside my pen, I will divest myself of all relish for mental occupation.”
The anonymous author of this novel went on writing and publishing for another five years, if the attribution chain for The Woman of Colour is to be believed.
Other novelists who wrote biographically about their experiences trying to get published include favourite of this blog, Eliza Kirkham Mathews.
Well, I am sure you want to know what became of Miss Letsom. After her employer dies and leaves her a legacy, she is able to take a quiet cottage to share with the heroine, where she is free to let her “lively and brilliant imagination… [shine] forth with redoubled lustre, like the sun after a transient cloud; if a sudden turn of thought struck her fancy, she might hazard it, without being deemed censorious, sarcastic, or impertinent.” After the heroine marries a baronet, Miss Letsom is her frequent guest.
| Davies, Colette. Women Writers, Authorship, and the Late-Eighteenth Century Novel: Representations of the Female Author in the Minerva Press (1785-1800). Diss. University of Nottingham (United Kingdom), 2022. Substance and Shadow. Minerva Press, 1812, vol. III pps. 22 to 52. |
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