Literary Remains, Family Editors, and Romantic Genius

Abstract

“It is equally true of books as of their authors,” wrote Barbauld in 1805, “that one generation passeth away, and another cometh” (Selections I.i). Yet though Romantic-era authors did, within a very short period of time, pass away—Austen in 1817, Keats in 1821, Shelley in 1822, Byron in 1824, Barbauld herself in 1825, Blake in 1827, and Coleridge in 1834—their books did not “passeth away” as swiftly as Barbauld predicted. For just as Barbauld, in her Selections from the Spectator, Guardian, Tatler, attempted to preserve works of the past century for readers of the new, so too did those who survived the authors of the Romantic generation—above all their family members, who sought to promote the reputation and, with it, the sales of their loved one’s writing. Family members were uniquely situated to participate in biographical and editorial work, given their access to unpublished material, ownership of existing copyrights, and unique knowledge of their subjects. Their efforts and strategies shaped conceptions of individual Romantic authors and of Romanticism itself for much of the nineteenth century, an influence that continues to be felt.

We find, in the verse of the poet, “the record of the best and happiest moments of the best and happiest minds.” But this is not enough—we desire to know the man…. Led by such curiosity, how many volumes have been filled with the life of the Scottish ploughboy and the English peer; we welcome with delight every fact which proves that the patriotism and tenderness expressed in the songs of Burns, sprung from a noble and gentle heart; and we pore over each letter that we expect will testify that the melancholy and unbridled passion that darkens Byron’s verse, flowed from a soul devoured by a keen susceptibility to intensest love, and indignant broodings over the injuries done and suffered by man.

—Mary Shelley, “Introduction,” Essays, Letters from Abroad Translations and Fragments (1840) I: v–vi

‘I have read several of Burns’ Poems with great delight,’ said Charlotte soon as she had time to speak, ‘but I am not poetic enough to separate a Man’s poetry from his Character;—and poor Burns’s known Irregularities, greatly interrupt my enjoyment of his Lines. I have difficulty in depending on the Truth of his Feelings as a Lover. I have not faith in the sincerity of the affections of a Man of his Description. He felt and he wrote and he forgot.’ ‘Oh! no no’—exclaimed Sir Edward in an extasy. ‘He was all ardour and Truth!—His genius and his Susceptibilities might lead him into some Aberrations—But who is perfect?—It were Hyper-criticism, it were Pseudo-philosophy to expect from the high toned Genius, the grovellings of a common mind.— The Coruscations of Talent, elicited by impassioned feeling in the breast of Man, are perhaps incompatible with some of the prosaic Decencies of Life;—nor can you, loveliest Miss Heywood (speaking with an air of deep sentiment)—nor can any Woman be a fair Judge of what a Man may be propelled to say, write or do, by the sovereign impulses of illimitable Ardour.’ This was very fine;—but if Charlotte understood it all, not very moral—

—Jane Austen, Sanditon (c.1817) 322–3