Letters: the price is write
T HE novelist Kate O’Brien (1897–1974) was undeniably gorgeous, albeit in a clean-cut mannish sort of way. In the 1920s, she taught at an Ursuline Convent in Hampstead, London. Here, a group of her pupils developed a collective crush on O’Brien, calling her ‘The Beloved’. When this was brought up at a parent/teacher meeting, the Reverend Mother responded: “The truth is that The Beloved is very beautiful.”
The story comes from O’Brien’s entry in the Dictionary Of Irish Biography, co-authored by Dr Lorna Reynolds, Kate O’Brien’s biographer and lifelong friend. The two women wrote to each other regularly between 1940 and 1969. Reynolds kept their correspondence, which was put up for auction at Sheppard’s on March 8. The letters were estimated to sell for between €3,000 and €5,000.
The timing of the auction for International Women’s Day was appropriate. Kate O’Brien is one of Ireland’s foremost female writers and probably Ireland’s leading lesbian writer of all time. She wrote honestly about sexuality. As a result, two of her books were banned in Ireland. As Reynolds describes,
Mary Lavelle (1936) depicts “an adulterous relationship between a young Irish girl and a married Spanish man (as well as a declaration of love for the girl from an older Irish Spices lesbian)”. The Land of
(1941), a semi-autobiographical novel, was banned on the basis of a single line: “She saw Etienne and her father, in the embrace of love.”
Not much is known about O’Brien as a person. According to her contemporaries, most of her correspondence was destroyed. Last year, the University of Limerick’s Glucksman Library launched a collection of O’Brien’s letters to her sister, Nance O’Mara. These dealt largely with family matters. The letters from the Reynolds archive throw more light on O’Brien as a writer and independent woman living in London, her social life and her relationship with the publishing industry.
Ken Bergin, Head of Special Collections at the UL Glucksman Library, went to the auction. As a writer of international repute, O’Brien’s correspondence would be of interest to bidders from abroad, including the Northwestern University Library, Illinois, which already holds an archive of her manuscripts. But O’Brien was a Limerick lady, born and bred. “It is there indeed that I learnt the world, and I know that wherever I am, it is still from Limerick that I make my surmises,” she wrote in My Ireland (1962). For many, it seemed fitting that her letters should come back to her native city.
As the auction commenced, Bergin was on the edge of his seat. “There were two other bidders, both were telephone bidders,” he says. “I was the only one bidding in the room.” Eventually, Bergin secured the letters for the UL Glucksman Library for the cost of €12,000.
University libraries, as Bergin explains, prefer to be given collections of letters rather than to buy them. As well as the cost of the purchase, the library will have to pay for a conservator to preserve the collection. Kate O’Brien’s letters, for example, are in fragile condition and need urgent work to prevent further decay. Once conserved and catalogued, they will be made publicly available through the library system.
For those with a collection of letters that they wish to either donate or sell, this is lesson one: paper and ink are delicate materials and need to be kept in a clean, dry place. Nobody is going to want to invest in something that is about to fall apart. The first step is to have a good sniff. If the letters smell bad, you will want to change the way you store them. Check also for foxing as these rust-coloured stains will compromise the value of the collection. If in doubt, call a conservator.
The potential value of a collection of letters is difficult to estimate. “All personal correspondence is valuable, but whether it is of monetary value or not often depends on who it’s to and who it’s from,” says Philip Sheppard, auctioneer. The correspondence of famous people is liable to do well at auction. The letters of ordinary people are only likely to sell when they throw light on a moment in history.
Provenance has a direct bearing on the value of a collection of letters and, before you sell, you will have to demonstrate how they came to be in your possession. When the auc- tioneer David Herman was nine years old, he bought a second-hand book. In the book was a letter that seemed to be from William IV of England (1765-1837). The letter was addressed to someone called Usher, an employee at Dublin Castle. In it, William referred to his “little plant”, probably an illegitimate child. This was not out of character.
William, who died without a legitimate heir, was survived by eight of 10 known illegitimate children. Their mother was Dorothea Bland, an Irish actress known, for the sake of respectability, as Mrs Jordan.
It’s more than 50 years since the letter was discovered and Herman believes that it is genuine. It is written on the correct form of “laid paper” and has quality without being official. But, without solid provenance, it can’t be sold as being from William IV of England. But Herman likes having the letter and has no intention of selling it.