authorship was so strong in the circle to which she belonged that she would have shrunk from incurring it’ (Oriebar, p. 222). A further game that Bowles played with herself in order to overcome her inhibitions about publication, was to pretend that her writings were mere ‘trifles’, springing unbidden from a natural facility with language, rhyme and rhythm that she had had since childhood. By the time she had matured enough as a writer to realise the necessity for taking responsibility for her work by signing her name to it, which she did with the publication of The Birth-day, 1836, it was really too late. Soon afterwards, her marriage with its sad consequences abruptly terminated her career when she was in her early fifties. Although Wärter managed to publish her Poetical Works in 1867, they were by no means complete, omitting many of her finest short poems from her 1847 volume Robin Hood (nominally a joint publication) as well as Tales of the Factories and The Caps Tail (both of which are reprinted in full in the present volume). Among wome n poets of her generation, of course, Caroline Bowles Southey was not alone in her paradoxical desire to seek both the sun and the shade; modesty parades itself in many an eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century preface ‘by a Lady’, and fame was a commodity to be both courted and feared, implying as it did, an indecorous notoriety. Like her contemporaries, Felicia Hemans, Mary Russell Mitford and Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the young Caroline Bowles began to show her talents at an early age and, as with them, she too was warmly encour­ aged by her parents. But her gift was not regarded as something she could sell: she always claimed to dislike ‘writing for gain’, and it was only when she feared losing her precious home that she allowed herself to seek publication. It is no wonder that Robert Southey held such an important place in her life, when we consider that he was the first established writer to whom she turned for help when she first sought to publish and that he immediately offered her real encouragement as well as practical aid. So what were the works she had published in her lifetime, conspicu­ ously unmentioned on her tombstone? Five books of verse, two books of prose tales and one miscellany of mixed prose and verse, as well as a number of uncollected poems and stories in periodicals and annuals (see the bibliography, p. 278). In addition, although it would not have occurred to her to include them among her achievements, she wrote a great many lively, witty letters, judging by those that survive. The preservation of a number of her letters in libraries is no doubt a fortu­ nate by-product of the Southey connection rather than an instance of rare foresight on the part of the archivists. Dowden’s selection from the 20-year correspondence between her and Robert Southey, a correspond­ ence which marks the growth of the warm and at times flirtatious

doi:10.4324/9780429459375-20

Chapter

authorship was so strong in the circle to which she belonged that she would have shrunk from incurring it’ (Oriebar, p. 222). A further game that Bowles played with herself in order to overcome her inhibitions about publication, was to pretend that her writings were mere ‘trifles’, springing unbidden from a natural facility with language, rhyme and rhythm that she had had since childhood. By the time she had matured enough as a writer to realise the necessity for taking responsibility for her work by signing her name to it, which she did with the publication of The Birth-day, 1836, it was really too late. Soon afterwards, her marriage with its sad consequences abruptly terminated her career when she was in her early fifties. Although Wärter managed to publish her Poetical Works in 1867, they were by no means complete, omitting many of her finest short poems from her 1847 volume Robin Hood (nominally a joint publication) as well as Tales of the Factories and The Caps Tail (both of which are reprinted in full in the present volume). Among wome n poets of her generation, of course, Caroline Bowles Southey was not alone in her paradoxical desire to seek both the sun and the shade; modesty parades itself in many an eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century preface ‘by a Lady’, and fame was a commodity to be both courted and feared, implying as it did, an indecorous notoriety. Like her contemporaries, Felicia Hemans, Mary Russell Mitford and Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the young Caroline Bowles began to show her talents at an early age and, as with them, she too was warmly encour aged by her parents. But her gift was not regarded as something she could sell: she always claimed to dislike ‘writing for gain’, and it was only when she feared losing her precious home that she allowed herself to seek publication. It is no wonder that Robert Southey held such an important place in her life, when we consider that he was the first established writer to whom she turned for help when she first sought to publish and that he immediately offered her real encouragement as well as practical aid. So what were the works she had published in her lifetime, conspicu ously unmentioned on her tombstone? Five books of verse, two books of prose tales and one miscellany of mixed prose and verse, as well as a number of uncollected poems and stories in periodicals and annuals (see the bibliography, p. 278). In addition, although it would not have occurred to her to include them among her achievements, she wrote a great many lively, witty letters, judging by those that survive. The preservation of a number of her letters in libraries is no doubt a fortu nate by-product of the Southey connection rather than an instance of rare foresight on the part of the archivists. Dowden’s selection from the 20-year correspondence between her and Robert Southey, a correspond ence which marks the growth of the warm and at times flirtatious

Chapter

authorship was so strong in the circle to which she belonged that she would have shrunk from incurring it’ (Oriebar, p. 222). A further game that Bowles played with herself in order to overcome her inhibitions about publication, was to pretend that her writings were mere ‘trifles’, springing unbidden from a natural facility with language, rhyme and rhythm that she had had since childhood. By the time she had matured enough as a writer to realise the necessity for taking responsibility for her work by signing her name to it, which she did with the publication of The Birth-day, 1836, it was really too late. Soon afterwards, her marriage with its sad consequences abruptly terminated her career when she was in her early fifties. Although Wärter managed to publish her Poetical Works in 1867, they were by no means complete, omitting many of her finest short poems from her 1847 volume Robin Hood (nominally a joint publication) as well as Tales of the Factories and The Caps Tail (both of which are reprinted in full in the present volume). Among wome n poets of her generation, of course, Caroline Bowles Southey was not alone in her paradoxical desire to seek both the sun and the shade; modesty parades itself in many an eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century preface ‘by a Lady’, and fame was a commodity to be both courted and feared, implying as it did, an indecorous notoriety. Like her contemporaries, Felicia Hemans, Mary Russell Mitford and Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the young Caroline Bowles began to show her talents at an early age and, as with them, she too was warmly encour aged by her parents. But her gift was not regarded as something she could sell: she always claimed to dislike ‘writing for gain’, and it was only when she feared losing her precious home that she allowed herself to seek publication. It is no wonder that Robert Southey held such an important place in her life, when we consider that he was the first established writer to whom she turned for help when she first sought to publish and that he immediately offered her real encouragement as well as practical aid. So what were the works she had published in her lifetime, conspicu ously unmentioned on her tombstone? Five books of verse, two books of prose tales and one miscellany of mixed prose and verse, as well as a number of uncollected poems and stories in periodicals and annuals (see the bibliography, p. 278). In addition, although it would not have occurred to her to include them among her achievements, she wrote a great many lively, witty letters, judging by those that survive. The preservation of a number of her letters in libraries is no doubt a fortu nate by-product of the Southey connection rather than an instance of rare foresight on the part of the archivists. Dowden’s selection from the 20-year correspondence between her and Robert Southey, a correspond ence which marks the growth of the warm and at times flirtatious

DOI link for authorship was so strong in the circle to which she belonged that she would have shrunk from incurring it’ (Oriebar, p. 222). A further game that Bowles played with herself in order to overcome her inhibitions about publication, was to pretend that her writings were mere ‘trifles’, springing unbidden from a natural facility with language, rhyme and rhythm that she had had since childhood. By the time she had matured enough as a writer to realise the necessity for taking responsibility for her work by signing her name to it, which she did with the publication of The Birth-day, 1836, it was really too late. Soon afterwards, her marriage with its sad consequences abruptly terminated her career when she was in her early fifties. Although Wärter managed to publish her Poetical Works in 1867, they were by no means complete, omitting many of her finest short poems from her 1847 volume Robin Hood (nominally a joint publication) as well as Tales of the Factories and The Caps Tail (both of which are reprinted in full in the present volume). Among wome n poets of her generation, of course, Caroline Bowles Southey was not alone in her paradoxical desire to seek both the sun and the shade; modesty parades itself in many an eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century preface ‘by a Lady’, and fame was a commodity to be both courted and feared, implying as it did, an indecorous notoriety. Like her contemporaries, Felicia Hemans, Mary Russell Mitford and Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the young Caroline Bowles began to show her talents at an early age and, as with them, she too was warmly encour aged by her parents. But her gift was not regarded as something she could sell: she always claimed to dislike ‘writing for gain’, and it was only when she feared losing her precious home that she allowed herself to seek publication. It is no wonder that Robert Southey held such an important place in her life, when we consider that he was the first established writer to whom she turned for help when she first sought to publish and that he immediately offered her real encouragement as well as practical aid. So what were the works she had published in her lifetime, conspicu ously unmentioned on her tombstone? Five books of verse, two books of prose tales and one miscellany of mixed prose and verse, as well as a number of uncollected poems and stories in periodicals and annuals (see the bibliography, p. 278). In addition, although it would not have occurred to her to include them among her achievements, she wrote a great many lively, witty letters, judging by those that survive. The preservation of a number of her letters in libraries is no doubt a fortu nate by-product of the Southey connection rather than an instance of rare foresight on the part of the archivists. Dowden’s selection from the 20-year correspondence between her and Robert Southey, a correspond ence which marks the growth of the warm and at times flirtatious

authorship was so strong in the circle to which she belonged that she would have shrunk from incurring it’ (Oriebar, p. 222). A further game that Bowles played with herself in order to overcome her inhibitions about publication, was to pretend that her writings were mere ‘trifles’, springing unbidden from a natural facility with language, rhyme and rhythm that she had had since childhood. By the time she had matured enough as a writer to realise the necessity for taking responsibility for her work by signing her name to it, which she did with the publication of The Birth-day, 1836, it was really too late. Soon afterwards, her marriage with its sad consequences abruptly terminated her career when she was in her early fifties. Although Wärter managed to publish her Poetical Works in 1867, they were by no means complete, omitting many of her finest short poems from her 1847 volume Robin Hood (nominally a joint publication) as well as Tales of the Factories and The Caps Tail (both of which are reprinted in full in the present volume). Among wome n poets of her generation, of course, Caroline Bowles Southey was not alone in her paradoxical desire to seek both the sun and the shade; modesty parades itself in many an eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century preface ‘by a Lady’, and fame was a commodity to be both courted and feared, implying as it did, an indecorous notoriety. Like her contemporaries, Felicia Hemans, Mary Russell Mitford and Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the young Caroline Bowles began to show her talents at an early age and, as with them, she too was warmly encour aged by her parents. But her gift was not regarded as something she could sell: she always claimed to dislike ‘writing for gain’, and it was only when she feared losing her precious home that she allowed herself to seek publication. It is no wonder that Robert Southey held such an important place in her life, when we consider that he was the first established writer to whom she turned for help when she first sought to publish and that he immediately offered her real encouragement as well as practical aid. So what were the works she had published in her lifetime, conspicu ously unmentioned on her tombstone? Five books of verse, two books of prose tales and one miscellany of mixed prose and verse, as well as a number of uncollected poems and stories in periodicals and annuals (see the bibliography, p. 278). In addition, although it would not have occurred to her to include them among her achievements, she wrote a great many lively, witty letters, judging by those that survive. The preservation of a number of her letters in libraries is no doubt a fortu nate by-product of the Southey connection rather than an instance of rare foresight on the part of the archivists. Dowden’s selection from the 20-year correspondence between her and Robert Southey, a correspond ence which marks the growth of the warm and at times flirtatious

ABSTRACT

Among women poets of her generation, of course, Caroline Bowles Southey was not alone in her paradoxical desire to seek both the sun and the shade; modesty parades itself in many an eighteenth-and early nineteenth-century preface ‘by a Lady’, and fame was a commodity to be both courted and feared, implying as it did, an indecorous notoriety. Like her contemporaries, Felicia Hemans, Mary Russell Mitford and Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the young Caroline Bowles began to show her talents at an early age and, as with them, she too was warmly encour aged by her parents. But her gift was not regarded as something she could sell: she always claimed to dislike ‘writing for gain’, and it was only when she feared losing her precious home that she allowed herself to seek publication. It is no wonder that Robert Southey held such an important place in her life, when we consider that he was the first established writer to whom she turned for help when she first sought to publish and that he immediately offered her real encouragement as well as practical aid.