This is a thoughtful, measured, and persuasive book - a real contribution
to our understanding of Romantic creativity. Scott Krawczyk's analysis not only
taps into recent critical interest in sociable networks and collaborative productions;
it also offers new insights into the literary family as the "predominant
mediating network for Romantic collaboration" (x). These Romantic literary families
- which include the formidable intellectual Aikin clan, those intense orphans
William and Dorothy Wordsworth and the Wollstonecraft-Godwin-Shelley circle, as
well as the Edgeworths, the Southeys, and the Taylors - are deeply aware of
their creative, economic, and political power. Indeed, the family, in this
formulation, is nothing less than "a nascent corporation" (x). And this
corporation, Krawczyk shows, has successfully shaped our view of Romanticism. Juxtaposing
subtly different literary family models, Krawczyk not only sheds fascinating
light on particular authors, but also calls for a revaluation of Romantic
authorship itself, with "collaborative interaction" at its heart.
This is a timely intervention in Romantic studies for a number of reasons, not least the way it
builds on recent scholarship emphasising the central importance of networks of
allusion and influence, families and groups, in understanding the period. Sociability is currently a hot topic - the
subject of Jeffrey Cox's 2008 NASSR address, for instance, or Clara Tuite's and
Gillian Russell's excellent essay collection
Romantic Sociability (2002). Rather than focussing on the lone
bard, critical attention has shifted to his sociable alter ego, busy in the
coffee-house, the theatre, the radical meeting or the Dissenting chapel.
Moreover, families like the Aikin-Barbaulds have emerged as central to this
sociable, energetic vision of Romanticism, in work by, amongst others, Daniel
E. White, whose
Early Romanticism and
Religious Dissent (2006) offered a valuable insight into the religious and
familial ideals of the Aikins, and Michelle Levy, in her
Family Authorship and Romantic Print Culture (2008).
In different ways, Anne Janowitz and Kathryn
Ready have also probed the remarkable intellectual legacy of the Aikin clan,
and William McCarthy's splendid new
biography,
Anna Letitia Barbauld: Voice of the Enlightenment (2009),
which must have emerged just too late for this study, has crowned this recent
growth of interest. Krawczyk's lively readings of literary family life are
informed by these recent critical perspectives - and further them.
Krawczyk begins by
examining two pamphlets released on the same day, March 27, 1790: Anna Letitia
Barbauld's
An Address to the Opposers of
the Repeal of the Corporation and Test Acts, and her brother John Aikin's
An Address to the Dissidents of England on
their Late Defeat. Carrying reciprocal advertisements, these "sibling
pamphlets" speak together, supporting and furthering one another's reformist
aims: a striking image of what Krawczyk calls the "mobilization of the family,
through writing, in the realm of political action" (2). This co-operative,
responsive, reformist model was nothing new for the Aikin family. Krawczyk
defines and analyses three stages of their "collaborative career pattern":
their Warrington Academy period; their reformist period of activist and
educational writing through the closing decades of the eighteenth century; and
their "canon formation stage", when they both helped to shape literary taste
through their selections of British novels and poetry (3). In all three stages,
Krawczyk shows, the works benefit from being read together, and his close
readings show how one answers another, how the family dialogue develops and
deepens over time. Of course, Krawczyk acknowledges that previous
Aikin-Barbauld studies have already compared the work of brother and sister;
but what is new here is fresh detail about the context of
their collaborations and unfamiliar examples
of it. Instead of focussing on such well-known works as their
Evenings at Home, Krawczyk turns his
attention to a series of lesser-known pamphlets, essays and poems, and reminds
us of the flexibility, playfulness, and challenging range of both siblings. John's
Essays on Song-Writing (1772) and
Anna's
Poems (1773), for instance, form
a creative dialogue when read, as here, side by side. Krawczyk reminds us that
some readers, like Thomas Cautley of Trinity College, Cambridge, bound the two
works together - a material example of the kind of companionable reading
encouraged by this study.
Furthermore, this attention
to the material experience of the contemporary reader is a characteristic
feature of the book, which reproduces numerous advertisements, title pages and
end matter from volumes. From Miscellaneous
Pieces (1792) comes a page advertising works from Barbauld and Aikin; by
the time we reach John Aikin's Vocal
Poetry (1810), the same works appear above a plug for Arthur Aikin's
publications, including The Natural
History of the Year. Being an Enlargement of Dr. Aikin's Calendar of Nature.
One can see exactly what Richard Lovell Edgeworth meant when he talked of an "Aikin
school": this family model is built in to the very marketing of the work. Informed
by studies such as Leonore Davidoff's and Catherine Hall's 1987 classic, Family Fortunes, and, in particular, the
more recent Family and Friends in
Eighteenth-Century England (2001) by
Naomi Tadmor, Krawczyk posits a model of the literary family which is, essentially,
a business, and a highly effective tool for marketing, networking and
self-promotion.
As chapter two shows in
detail, the Romantic literary family is also an aesthetic, and, to some
extents, a protective device. Discussing the Aikins' reluctance to claim authorship
of individual pieces, Krawczyk quotes Samuel Rogers' anecdote about Charles
James Fox attempting to praise the collection to John Aikin. "I am greatly
pleased with your Miscellaneous Pieces,
Mr. Aikin," Fox is supposed to have said. But to each essay Fox mentioned Aikin
gravely responded, "That [...] is my sister's," until "Fox thought it best to
say no more about the book" (30). Later, John's daughter Lucy, jealous for her
father's reputation, went to some trouble to attribute particular pieces to
him. Despite Lucy's efforts, one of
these, Sir Bertrand, a Fragment, is
still often assigned to Barbauld in modern anthologies. Krawczyk suggests that this very confusion is
part of the point about the book, springing from the way in which the siblings
worked and reinforcing the way in which they sought to elide authorial
difference. That "authorial identity remained a secret," he observes, "suggests
that the collaborative framework offered a way of keeping the private sphere
private, even as a work ventured into the public realm" (30). This collaborative work isn't purely a public
front, however; Krawczyk shows how it helped to shape the private relationships
of the family, too. One of the most private acts of collaboration he considers is
Anna's adoption of John's son; he also explains how the wider family might have
supplied comfort and support during the mental illness of Anna's husband
Rochemont.
This was, then, a
tightly-bound and intensely intimate literary family. But Krawczyk shows that rather
than being smugly enclosed, the Aikin family ethos could move outward and help
shape the experiences of readers worldwide. One of the fascinating examples he gives in
chapter two is Frederick Douglass, who was a thirteen-year-old slave in
Baltimore when he bought The Columbian
Orator for fifty cents. Later
crediting this book as a cornerstone of his education, Douglass particularly recalled the impact of "Dialogue
between a Master and a Slave." Since this
dialogue, where the slave's reasoning with his master results in his "voluntary
emancipation", was reprinted from Evenings
at Home, Warrington Academy
abolitionist rhetoric had found, in Douglass, its "ideal reader" (49). This
striking example of transatlantic influence reveals the radical possibilities
of Aikin's and Barbauld's writing.
As Krawczyk
turns his attention to the Wordsworths, we
see, too, how these familial readings might shape our view of canonical
Romanticism. The brother-sister intimacy of 'Tintern Abbey' finds an intriguing
parallel in John Aikin's 'To Mrs. Barbauld, at Geneva': two river poems which
Krawczyk uses to discuss the different collaborative relationships of creative
siblings. In 'To Mrs. Barbauld' Anna and John are looking back to a concrete
time of shared domestic creativity, whereas William and Dorothy are, in 1798,
setting out to create their own ideal, of "sibling, spouse, parent, and friend
all rolled into one." Krawczyk subtly
discusses the "passionate energies" of the brother-sister relationship and
traces their development. He shows, for example, the ways in which Dorothy's
intense friendship with Jane Pollard may have shaped and underscored her
expressions of affection for her brother; the intimacies of that relationship,
then, "are in all likelihood far more nuanced than contemporary conceptions can
imagine, and therefore persistently elusive to adequate representation" (61). Our understanding of what she and William gave each other is further complicated
by the fact that unlike Anna Barbauld, she published nothing in her
lifetime. Nevertheless, by analyzing the echoes and allusions that
she and her brother shared, Krawczyk does offer some insight into the "poetic
vision" of the sibling relationship. Noting
that John Worthen has detected the presence of Dorothy behind the 'Celandine'
poems of 1807, Krawczyk shows the clusters of association with which the
Wordsworths might have surrounded this little flower. On the first page of
Dorothy's Grasmere Journal, for
instance, she comments on finding a yellow "ranunculus", or lesser celandine;
Krawczyk suggests that the term "celandine" actually enters the Wordsworths'
vocabulary when they acquired and read together William Withering's An Arrangement of British Plants in
1801. Dorothy's botanical inquisitiveness contributed to the Wordsworths' "shared
vision of the natural world," argues Krawczyk, and in the 'Celandine' poems, amongst others,
William implicitly "pays tribute" to Dorothy as inspiration. Krawczyk then sets
the Wordsworths' interest in "the 'starry yellow flower which Mrs. C[larkson]
calls pile wort' " alongside the ways in which Charlotte Smith, in 1804, had
depicted the "pile-wort" in her poem "The Early Butterfly." This was itself included in a volume which paid
homage to Smith's close relationship with her sister, who also contributed
verse to the book, setting up an image of sibling conversations across Romantic
poetry. Moreover, these different explorations of Romantic sibling
relationships, emotional and textual, help to build up a complex image of
different collaborative models.
But of course
this model of happy collaborative harmony may be subject to many different
pressures, from within and without. In
his fourth chapter, Krawczyk subtly explores some of those tensions - emotional,
financial, social - and how different literary families sought to deal with
them and neutralise their threat. Using Tadmor's
theory of family models, he suggests two different approaches to the literary
family: the "lineage-family" and the "household-family." The first is
exemplified by the Aikin-Barbauld circle, passing its literary and intellectual
heritage from generation to generation and thus creating what Anne Janowitz has
termed "a reputation machine" (in Repossessing
the Romantic Past (2006)). Krawczyk describes the workings of this machine
as the Aikin-Barbauld clan was asked by an equally powerful literary family,
the Edgeworths, to consider a joint project, the formation of "a periodical
paper, to be written entirely by ladies," in the words of Richard Lovell Edgeworth. Barbauld chafed at the limitations of such a
female-only scheme. "Mrs. Hannah More would not write along with you or me,"
she writes to Maria Edgeworth, "and we should probably hesitate at joining Miss
Hays, or if she were living, Mrs. Godwin." She shrewdly assessed the proposal,
lodging particular objections, citing handicaps, and thrashing out the level of
her own involvement from the start. Krawczyk's
analysis of the Edgeworth-Barbauld correspondence demonstrates that this
collaborative project was seen on both sides as a commercial "merger" of two
powerful groups in the literary industry (99). Moreover, Barbauld's sprightly
responses to the competitive edge which emerges in Richard Edgeworth's letters
display what Krawczyk terms an "alternative language of female business
leadership", and show how she thinks carefully and practically about the nature
of creative collaboration (105). By declining in the end to collaborate, she
and her brother preserved the cohesion of what Krawczyk calls their
"lineage-family".
By contrast, Krawczyk
shows, the Taylors of Ongar construct a "house-hold family model of
incorporation" (107). Their volume The
Associate Minstrels (1810), for instance, involves contributions from two
families, and two generations. These poems -- written to mourn for friends and
family, to celebrate birthdays and friendships, and written by sisters to
sisters, in what Krawczyk terms "a celebration, too, of poetic sisterhood" --
show a larger literary community in action. These two examples of the
Aikin-Barbaulds and the Taylors offer, then, two different approaches, but both
imagine a business-like but non-competitive model of literary collaboration.
Krawczyk then applies these
two models to one of the most famous Romantic collaborations: the partnership
of Wordsworth and Coleridge. But, instead of highlighting the annus mirabilis of 1798, with its glorious,
fervent months of Quantock walks and mutual idealism, he examines some of the
previous years. Focussing first on
Coleridge, he views his work in the "context of literary-familial
incorporation, first with the Pantisocratic literary family and then with the
Wordsworths" (97). Placing Coleridge's literary development in this larger
context allows us to look again at the formative work of 1794-5 - something,
coincidentally, which David Fairer has also tackled in his similarly nuanced
study Organising Poetry: The Coleridge
Circle, 1790-1798, out just the month before Krawczyk's. Both authors show
how the fleeting, brilliant promise of the Pantisocratic scheme should not be
filed under youthful folly, but instead considered as something more
significant. Pantisocracy is part of Coleridge's perpetual quest for the
perfect domestic-literary intimacy. Set
alongside the strategies of the Aikins and the Taylors, we can also see how it
might reflect Coleridge's desire to build up his own literary family, an aim
which then goes on to inform his relationship with the Wordsworths. The
similarities between these two familial collaborations have perhaps been
obscured by the subsequent strife between the older, more established
Aikin-Barbauld circle and the younger Romantics, particularly Coleridge, Lamb,
and Southey, whose cocky chauvinism about "Mrs Bare-bald" became distinctly
noxious as the 1800s wore on. As Krawczyk puts it, the "battle-lines of an
intergenerational agon" were being drawn (146).
He closes, however, with a
portrait of another intergenerational literary family, the
Godwin-Wollstonecraft-Shelley circle, which he sees in some ways as bringing
together different ideals. Mary
Wollstonecraft Godwin and P. B. Shelley, intellectual "son" of Political Justice, "pursued the
fulfilment of that Dissenting model of education enjoyed by the Aikins and
looked forward to in girlhood by Dorothy Wordsworth"; furthermore, their
relationship was both intellectually and erotically satisfying, in a way which
Coleridge, in love with the Pantisocratic scheme rather than Sara Fricker, had
never been able to enjoy. Nevertheless, all these different literary families
continue to inform our view of Romanticism, and Krawczyk's book offers a
convincing argument to support his suggestion that this is a period when the genius familiae replaced the genius loci.
Felicity James is a Lecturer in
Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Literature at the University of Leicester,
UK. Her publications include Charles
Lamb, Coleridge and Wordsworth: Reading Friendship in the 1790s (2008).