Who could have anticipated such an attention as this? I have been so privileged as to be distinguished by Miss Meg Kerr, the esteemed authoress of Experience, who with great condescension has requested that I make a contribution to the Austenesque Extravaganza, in her stead. This slight unwillingness of hers to exhibit herself publicly, which is the result of her natural modesty, is far from doing her any disservice, and rather adds to than detracts from her other highly commendable qualities.

For a brief time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest I appear forward and precipitate. However my gratitude was warmly excited by the favour of Miss Kerr’s notice, and as she is a lady whom one cannot regard with too much deference, I did not wish to omit an occasion of testifying my respect towards her; and I soon assured her of my readiness to accept her invitation. I therefore beg leave to trespass on your attention, at the same time flattering myself that my little effort will not lower me in your esteem and that any infelicities of expression will be kindly overlooked on your side. Indeed it does not appear to me that my labours are unworthy your approbation, and I am therefore persuaded that when sanctioned by the express authority of Mrs. Meredith Esparza, the lady who does the honours of the weblog, my donation will not fail of giving satisfaction. And here, apologising for my intrusion, without any previous acquaintance, I beg leave to pay my respects to Mrs. Esparza, in a manner as attentive and conciliatory as possible.

This invitation is particularly gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive.

I consider novel writing as a blameless recreation, and my reasons for indulging in the pastime are briefly these: there can be nothing so advantageous, especially to young ladies, as instruction, and I believe myself more fitted by education and habitual study than the generality of novelists to have weight in recommending the most solid moral truths. My wit, vivacity, and animated language, I think, have the power to touch and affect readers on subjects that would seem worn threadbare in all common hands, and the unstudied air of my prose can scarcely fail to rouse their attention, without offending their taste or wearing out their feelings.

If I were so fortunate as to be able to interest a publisher, I should have great pleasure in obliging discerning readers with my two-volume novel, LYDIA; OR, VICE REBUK’D. Indeed, it is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness that I publish my novel. “Mr. Collins,” she said, “you must publish. Find a publisher as soon as you can, bring out the book, and I will obtain it from the circulating library.”

I do not mean, naturally, to assert that I can be justified in devoting too much of my time to novel writing, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The dictates of my conscience require that I not neglect my clerical duties, to wit, writing my own sermons, performing those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England, and promoting Christian forgiveness and the blessings of peace among my parishioners who are at variance; and then indeed I must not overlook the obligation of ensuring the domestic comfort of my life’s companion. And here permit me to warn of the evils that may be incurred by a faulty degree of indulgence in novel reading, in particular the reading by unmarried females of the works of lady novelists, for I scarcely wish to contemplate the licentiousness of behaviour that may result. I could say much on the subject, but will content myself with counselling very strenuously that young ladies confine themselves to books of a serious stamp.

It would give me great pleasure to hear that you have passed your time not disagreeably in perusing this discourse. I flatter myself that it cannot have been entirely irksome, and that Miss Kerr has not appeared to bestow a favour unworthily. I thank you for every mark of your regard extended to me, and I shall now take the liberty of wishing to all my readers most cordially health and happiness.

I am, dear Sirs and Mesdames, etc., etc.,

Rector of Hunsford Parish Church, Hunsford, Kent

(Written in the study of my humble abode across the lane from Rosings Park, the residence of the illustrious Lady Catherine de Bourgh.)

 

Meg Kerr offers her sincere thanks to Mr. Collins for his assistance with the Austenesque Extravaganza, and wonders if readers have any information about other manuscripts of novels that may lie hidden in the bottom of bureau drawers or forgotten on the top shelves of wardrobes of the Bennets, Darcys, Bingleys, Collinses, deBourghs etc.

 

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