The lost Austen – Jane’s literary brother James
The writer James Austen had talent and ambition. So what went wrong, asks Felicity Day
In literature as in life, this January is all about overshadowed siblings striking out on their own – in the world of Jane Austen, at least. Gill Hornby’s Miss Austen imagines what life was like for her beloved sister Cassandra; while Janice Hadlow has put Mary Bennet centre stage in her first novel, The Other Bennet Sister.
Sympathy for Mary, and the treatment she receives at the hands of the book’s narrator, drew Hadlow to tell Mary’s story, she says. Unlike Cassandra, Mary sits firmly on the margins of her family in Pride and Prejudice, sidelined by her parents and constantly outshone by her prettier, cleverer, livelier sisters.
I’ve always felt sympathy for one of Jane Austen’s brothers. James, the so-called writer of the family, was not the author’s confidant like Cassandra, not her favourite brother, not even the most professionally distinguished. He was, like Mary, outdone by his siblings on almost every count.
As the eldest, clergyman James should have enjoyed the distinction of being head of the family. Yet he spent a lifetime waiting for an inheritance from his mother’s family that never came, while his brother Edward – having been adopted by other wealthy relatives – joined the landed gentry, enjoying an annual income to rival Mr Darcy’s. Edward not only outranked James, but largely assumed the mantle of patriarchal responsibility, providing a house for his mother and sisters in their hour of need. And romantically, too, James lost out to a brother. Both he and Henry courted their glamorous cousin Eliza, who eventually gave her heart to the younger, livelier man.
But it’s on account of his literary ambitions that I really sympathise with James. Ten years older than Jane, he had a gift for light, humorous verse with which he was impressing the family before she even picked up a pen. By the time she was seven, he was composing prologues (and perhaps plays, too) for the amusement of friends and family who took part in the Austens’ home theatricals. And his literary endeavours took a professional turn when he launched a weekly periodical, The Loiterer, for which he wrote much of the content.
The paper certainly inspired Austen; many writers have pointed to similarities between its satirical essays and her juvenilia. She even teasingly recommends a sketch to editor James’s “Protection & Patronage”. Quite possibly he did offer her a first taste of publication: one number contains a letter from the outspoken “Sophia Sentiment”, who might well be a teenage Jane – the fact that it was the only issue advertised in the family’s local paper lends weight to the theory.
But the venture was short-lived. The Loiterer folded after a year, owing – according to James – to the shortlist of subscribers and long bill of the publishers. One of its pieces was picked up by Annual Register, but no further work of his appeared in print. He never sought publication again.
Of course, a young man had to earn his living. But a literary career was by no means incompatible with the one for which he’d been trained: the Church. Perhaps the ascendancy of his sister’s star introduced a competitive element to writing that he disliked. Or perhaps it was, as Claire Harman has speculated, that James preferred to “remain an unrecognised genius”. Maybe disillusionment just took over, as life got in the way of his dreams: married at 27, he was widowed by 30 with a young daughter to provide for.
But whatever he felt about ceding his writer’s crown, James appears to have been outwardly gracious. After the publication of Sense and Sensibility, he surprised the debut author with a congratulatory poem. “Oh then, gentle Lady!” he urged her, “continue to write.”
So, too, did he. The lively humour that characterises his essays for The Loiterer and his theatrical prologues shines through in the funny verses written for his children (particularly his Address to Tyger, the rectory cat), while his more serious poetry is personal, tender and reflective.
Perhaps he might have achieved more if he hadn’t had such a talented sister hot on his heels. But then, can any family of siblings ever break free from competition and comparison?