ABSTRACT

Putting everything on display — down to those smudges and smears which are of the order of the accidental — is all very well. But what of the reader? Bashkirtseff may trumpet loudly in the preface that she finds herself too admirable to be censored; whether the reader who peruses the journal a hundred years later is likely to be of the same opinion is surely debatable. Of course, as we saw in Chapter 1, such a brash refusal of self-censorship stands as a means of further consolidating Rousseauesque truth claims, thereby enticing readers with hints of interesting sexual revelations to come. But, as the following excerpt from Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey reminds us, the feminine personal is not just associated with the sexual.

'I see what you think of me,' said he gravely — 'I shall make but a poor figure in your journal to-morrow.'

'My journal!'

'Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, went to the Lower Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin robe with blue trimmings — plain black shoes — appeared to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by a queer, halfwitted man, who would make me dance with him, and distressed me by his nonsense.'

'Indeed I shall say no such thing.'

'Shall I tell you what you ought to say?'

'If you please.'

'I danced with a very agreeable young man, introduced by Mr. King; had a great deal of conversation with him — seems a most extraordinary genius — hope I may know more of him. That, madam, is what I wish you to say.' 2