PEN-PORTRAITS OF
LITERARY WOMEN
BY THEMSELVES AND OTHERS
EDITED BY
HELEN GRAY CONE
AND
JEANNETTE L. GILDER
_WITH BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES BY THE FORMER._
VOL. I.
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED,
739 & 741 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
COPYRIGHT,
1887,
By O. M. DUNHAM.
Press W. L. Mershon & Co.,
Rahway, N. J.
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
HANNAH MORE, 9
FRANCES BURNEY (MME. D’ARBLAY), 45
MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT (GODWIN), 81
MARY W. GODWIN (SHELLEY), 109
MARY LAMB, 131
MARIA EDGEWORTH, 161
JANE AUSTEN, 195
JOANNA BAILLIE, 223
LADY BLESSINGTON, 245
MARY RUSSELL MITFORD, 269
PREFATORY NOTE.
_This book was suggested by Mr. Mason’s “Personal Traits of British
Authors,” published by Charles Scribner’s Sons. With a single
exception--Charlotte Brontë--the editor of that excellent work excluded
from his pages the literary women of England. The belief that the
public would find interest in a presentation of the characteristics and
surroundings of many of these women, has induced us to supplement Mr.
Mason’s volumes with the present series of “Pen Portraits.”_
_The distinction in title implies a slight change of plan. We have
not confined ourselves to the depicting of personal traits, but have
admitted a descriptive background; beyond the figures of Charlotte
and Emily Brontë, a glimpse is caught of the wild moors, purple with
heather; and the Mediterranean, dark with storm, appears behind
the graceful head of Mary Shelley. When a critical remark of some
fellow-worker seemed to have point, we have included it; such passages
may be regarded as pencillings, in various hands, on the margin of the
catalogue of our gallery._
_The plan of this work originally included English writers only. In
the course of its preparation, however, a certain amount of material
relative to two others (to the greatest of Frenchwomen and to that
American woman of letters who most notably represents an interesting
past phase of national growth), has presented itself and has not been
rejected._
_For the extracts used in these two volumes we give full credit, both
at the foot of the quotations and in an alphabetically arranged list
at the end of each volume. To these authors and to their publishers we
acknowledge our deep obligation, for, without the material they have
furnished, these “Pen Portraits” could never have been drawn._
_THE EDITORS._
HANNAH MORE.
1745-1833.
HANNAH MORE.
Hannah More was born on the 2nd of February, 1745, in the hamlet of
Fishponds in Stapleton parish, about four miles from Bristol. Her
father was the Master of the Free School of that place. His five
daughters grew up to follow his profession, opening, in 1757, a
boarding-school in Bristol, which was very successful. Hannah’s early
womanhood was passed at Bristol, with occasional visits to London,
where she was welcomed by the most brilliant society of the day. After
the death of her dear friend Garrick, in 1779, she gradually withdrew
herself from the world. In 1785 she went to live at Cowslip Green,
whence she removed in 1800 to Barley Wood, near Wrington, eight miles
from Bristol. Her sisters shared her home, devotedly laboring with her
among the poor. Death took them from her one by one, and at last, in
September, 1833, she followed them. She had removed to Clifton in order
to be under the care of friends.
It is sadly to be feared that some of her once very popular works,
which undoubtedly accomplished much good in their day, have passed with
modern readers into the category of “books which are no books,”--among
which Charles Lamb reckoned “court calendars, directories,
pocket-books, draught-boards, bound and lettered at the back, ... and
generally, all those volumes which ‘no gentleman’s library should be
without.’” The whirligig of time brings in new fashions of thought and
expression, and “the ways of literature are strewn all over with the
shells of books which the public has devoured and forgotten.” But to
turn from the works of Mrs. More’s pen and read of the works of her
helping hands among the poor, is as though, in some old-time garden
where the untrimmed box-borders have grown into sad confusion, and the
old flowers with the odd names have ceased to bloom, we came suddenly
upon the fresh wild-rose that is never out of fashion. The story of the
sturdy struggles of this delicate woman with the squalor, ignorance,
and indifference of that barbarous rural England of the eighteenth and
early nineteenth century, brings her near to us to-day, claiming a
respectful admiration which modern taste hardly accords to her writings.
* * * * *
The following is a list of her principal works:
Poems: _The Search After Happiness._ _Sir Eldred of the Bower and the
Legend of Sensibility._ _The Bas Bleu._ _Florio._ _Bleeding Rock._
_Bible Rhymes._
Dramas: PERCY, _A Tragedy_, performed at Covent Garden Theatre, 1777.
_Fatal Falsehood_, performed in 1779. _The Inflexible Captive._
Prose Works: _Thoughts on the Manners of the Great._ _Estimate of the
Religion of the Fashionable World._ _Strictures on Female Education._
CÆLEBS IN SEARCH OF A WIFE, 1808. _Practical Piety._ _Christian
Morals._ _Moral Sketches._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Her childhood.]
At an early age she evinced a large aptitude for learning, and a desire
for information. When her mother first began to think of teaching her
to read, she found Hannah had already made considerable progress, from
attending to the instructions bestowed on her elder sisters.
Her nurse having lived in the family of Dryden, the inquisitive mind of
the intelligent child was incessantly prompting her to ask for stories
about the poet; and to her father’s excellent memory she was indebted
for long stories from the Greek and Roman histories. Whilst sitting on
his knee, he would, to gratify her ear by the sound, repeat speeches of
her favorite heroes, in their original language, afterward translating
them into English.
Mr. More imparted to his daughters the rudiments both of Latin and
of the mathematics, and was afterward, it is said, alarmed at the
proficiency of his pupils.
MRS. ELWOOD: ‘Memoirs of the Literary Ladies of England.’ London: Henry
Colburn, 1843.
* * * * *
At this early period, too, the signs of that precarious health which
exercised her piety and virtue by so many trials in the course of her
long life, began to appear; and it was recorded in the family, that
pain and suffering were in her at that early period without their usual
attendants of fretfulness and impatience.
In her days of infancy, when she could possess herself of a scrap of
paper, her delight was to scribble upon it some essay or poem, with
some well-directed moral, which was afterward secreted in a dark corner
where the servant kept her brushes and dusters. Her little sister, with
whom she slept, was usually the repository of her nightly effusions;
who, in her zeal lest these compositions should be lost, would
sometimes steal down to procure a light, and commit them to the first
scrap of paper which she could find. Among the characteristic sports of
Hannah’s childhood, which their mother was fond of recording, we are
told that she was wont to make a carriage of a chair, and then call to
her sisters to ride with her to London to see bishops and booksellers;
an intercourse which we shall hereafter show to have been realized. The
greatest wish her imagination could frame, when her scraps of paper
were exhausted, was, that she might one day be rich enough to have
a whole quire to herself; and when, by her mother’s indulgence, the
prize was obtained, it was soon filled with supposititious letters to
depraved characters, to reclaim them from their errors, and letters in
return expressive of contrition and resolutions of amendment.
[Sidenote: A Puritan family.]
This branch of the family was attached to the established church,
Mr. More himself being a stanch Tory, and what is known as a High
Churchman; but the other members of the family were Presbyterians, and
the daughters of Mr. Jacob More had frequently heard their father say
that he had two great-uncles captains in Oliver Cromwell’s army. Jacob
More’s mother appears, from family tradition, to have possessed a mind
of more than ordinary vigor. She was a pious woman, and used to tell
her younger relatives that they would have known how to value gospel
privileges had they lived, like her, in the days of proscription and
persecution, when, at midnight, pious worshippers went with stealthy
steps through the snow, to hear the words of inspiration delivered by a
holy man at her father’s house; while her father, with a drawn sword,
guarded the entrance from violent or profane intrusion.
W. ROBERTS: ‘Memoirs of Hannah More,’ New York: Harper & Bros., 1834.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Puritan tendencies illustrated.]
I would wish you a Merry Christmas as well as a Happy New-Year, but
that I hate the word merry _so_ applied; it is a fitter epithet for a
_bacchanalian_ than a _Christian_ festival, and seems an apology for
idle mirth and injurious excess.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister from Hampton_ 1780, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
On Sunday evening I was a little alarmed; they were preparing for music
(sacred music was the _ostensible_ thing), but before I had time to
feel uneasy, Garrick turned round and said, “Nine,[1] you are a _Sunday
woman_; retire to your room--I will recall you when the music is
over.”
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from Farnborough Place_, 1777, in
‘Memoirs,’ by W. Roberts.
We spent an agreeable evening at Dr. Cadogan’s, where Mrs. Montagu and
I, being the only two monsters in the creation who never touch a card
(and laughed at enough for it we are), had the fireside to ourselves;
and a more elegant and instructive conversation I have seldom enjoyed.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister from London_ 1777, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
I am going, to-day, to a great dinner; nothing can be conceived so
absurd, extravagant and fantastical as the present mode of dressing the
head. Simplicity and modesty are things so much exploded, that the very
names are no longer remembered. I have just escaped from one of the
most fashionable disfigurers; and though I charged him to dress me with
the greatest simplicity, and to have only a very distant eye upon the
fashion, just enough to avoid the pride of singularity; yet in spite of
all these sage didactics, I absolutely blush at myself.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from London_ 1776, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
Again I am annoyed by the foolish absurdity of the present mode of
dress. Some ladies carry on their heads a large quantity of fruit, and
yet they would despise a poor useful member of society who carried
it there for the purpose of selling it for bread. Some, at the back
of their perpendicular caps, hang four or five ostrich feathers, of
different colors, etc. Spirit of Addison! thou pure and gentle shade
arise! thou who, with such fine humor, and such polished sarcasm, didst
lash the cherry-colored hood and the party patches; awake! for the
follies thou didst lash were but the beginning of follies; and the
absurdities thou didst censure were but the seeds of absurdities!
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from London_, 1776, in ‘Memoirs,’
by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
The other night we had a great deal of company, eleven damsels, to say
nothing of men. I protest I hardly do them justice, when I pronounce
that they had, among them, on their heads, an acre and a half of
shrubbery, besides slopes, grass-plots, tulip-beds, clumps of peonies,
kitchen-gardens, and green-houses.... I have no doubt that they held in
great contempt our roseless heads and leafless necks.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from Burgay_, 1777, in ‘Memoirs,’
by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
And now we are upon vanities, what do you think is the reigning mode
as to powder?--only turmeric, that coarse dye which stains yellow. The
Goths and Vandals, the Picts and Saxons, are come again. It falls out
of the hair, and stains the skin so that every pretty lady must look
as yellow as a crocus, which I suppose will become a better compliment
than as white as a lily.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from Hampton_, 1782, in ‘Memoirs,’
by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: A humorous situation.]
The other evening they carried me to Mrs. Ord’s assembly; I was quite
dressed for the purpose; Mrs. Garrick gave me an elegant cap, and
put it on herself; so that I was quite sure of being smart; but how
short-lived is all human joy! and see what it is to live in the
country! When I came into the drawing-rooms I found them full of
company, every human creature in deep mourning, and I, poor I, all
gorgeous in scarlet. I never recollected that the mourning for some
foreign Wilhelmina Jaquelina was not over. However, I got over it as
well as I could, made an apology, lamented the _ignorance_ in which I
had lately lived, and I hope this false step of mine will be buried in
oblivion.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from London_, 1780, in ‘Memoirs,’
by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Dislike of public diversions.]
I find my dislike of what are called public diversions greater than
ever, except a play; and when Garrick has left the stage, I could be
very well contented to relinquish plays also, and to live in London,
without ever again setting my foot in a public place.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from London_, 1776, in ‘Memoirs,’
by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
I had no less than five invitations to dine abroad to-day, but
preferred the precious and rare luxury of solitude.
‘Percy’ is acted again this evening: do any of you choose to go? I can
write you an order: for my own part, I shall enjoy a much superior
pleasure--that of sitting by the fire, in a great chair.
HANNAH MORE: _Letters to her sister, from London_, 1777 and 1778, in
‘Memoirs,’ by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
On Monday I was at a very great assembly at the Bishop of St. Asaph’s.
Conceive to yourself one hundred and fifty or two hundred people met
together, dressed in the extremity of the fashion; painted as red as
bacchanals; poisoning the air with perfumes; treading on each other’s
gowns; making the crowd they blame; and not one in ten able to get a
chair; protesting they are engaged to ten other places, and lamenting
the fatigue they are not obliged to endure; ten or a dozen card-tables
crammed with dowagers of quality, grave ecclesiastics, and yellow
admirals; and you have an idea of an assembly. I never go to these
things when I can possibly avoid it, and stay, when there, as few
minutes as I can.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from Hampton_, 1782, in ‘Memoirs,’
by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Anecdote illustrating her readiness.]
With the well-known writer, Dr. Langhorne, when vicar of Blagdon,
she long maintained a poetical and literary correspondence. The
introduction took place in 1773, while she was recovering from an
attack of ague, at Uphill, on the Somersetshire coast. The doctor was
at the time taking his recreation at the neighboring and better known
watering-place, Weston-Super-Mare. They often rode together upon the
sands; Miss More, as the custom then was, on the pillion behind her
servant; and when it happened that either chanced to miss the other, a
paper was placed in a cleft post near the water, generally containing
some quaint remark, or a few verses. On one of these occasions, the
doctor committed his wit and gallantry to the sand, on which he
inscribed with his cane:
“Along the shore
Walked Hannah More;
Waves! let this record last:
Sooner shall ye,
Proud earth and sea,
Than what she writes, be past.
JOHN LANGHORNE.”
Miss More, with her riding whip, wrote immediately beneath:
“Some firmer basis, polish’d Langhorne, choose,
To write the dictates of thy charming muse;
Thy strains in solid characters rehearse,
And be thy tablet lasting as thy verse.
HANNAH MORE.”
HENRY THOMPSON: ‘Life of Hannah More.’ Philadelphia: Carey and Hart,
1838.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Her early engagement to Mr. Turner.]
His residence at Belmont was beautifully situated, and he had carriages
and horses and every thing to make a visit to Belmont agreeable. He
permitted his cousins to ask any young persons at the school to spend
their vacations with them. Their governesses being nearly of their
own age, they made choice of the two youngest of the sisters--Hannah
and Patty More. The consequence was natural. She was very clever and
fascinating, and he was generous and sensible; he became attached, and
made his offer, which was accepted. He was a man of large fortune, and
she was young and dependent; she quitted her interest in the concern of
the school, and was at great expense in preparing and fitting herself
out to be the wife of a man of large fortune. The day was fixed more
than once for the marriage, and Mr. Turner each time postponed it.
Her sisters and friends interfered, and would not permit her to be
so treated and trifled with. He continued in the wish to marry her;
but her friends, after his former conduct, and on other accounts,
persevered in keeping up her determination not to renew the engagement.
MRS. SIMMONS: _Letter_ in W. Roberts’ ‘Memoirs of Hannah More.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Miss More in London.]
Since I wrote last, Hannah has been introduced by Miss Reynolds to
Baretti, to Edmund Burke--the sublime and beautiful Edmund Burke!
From a large party of literary persons assembled at Sir Joshua’s she
received the most encouraging compliments; and the spirit with which
she returned them was acknowledged by all present, as Miss Reynolds
informed poor us.
... We have paid another visit to Miss Reynolds. She had sent to engage
Dr. Percy (Percy’s collection--now you know him), quite a spritely
modern, instead of a rusty antique, as I expected. He was no sooner
gone than Miss Reynolds ordered the coach to take us to Dr. Johnson’s
_very own house_; yes, Abyssinia’s Johnson! Dictionary Johnson!
Rambler’s, Idler’s, and Irene’s Johnson!
... Miss Reynolds told the doctor of all our rapturous exclamations on
the road. He shook his scientific head at Hannah and said, “She was a
_silly thing_.” When our visit was ended, he called for his hat (as
it rained), to attend us down a very long entry to our coach, and not
Rasselas could have acquitted himself more _en cavalier_.
... I forgot to mention, that not finding Johnson in his little parlor
when we came in, Hannah seated herself in his great chair, hoping to
catch a little ray of his genius; when he heard it he laughed heartily,
and said it was a chair on which he never sat.
Tuesday evening we drank tea at Sir Joshua’s with Dr. Johnson. Hannah
is certainly a great favorite. She was placed next him, and they had
the entire conversation to themselves. They were both in remarkably
high spirits; it was certainly her lucky night! I never heard her
say so many good things. The old genius was extremely jocular, and
the young one very pleasant. You would have imagined we had been at
some comedy had you heard our peals of laughter. They, indeed, tried
which could “pepper the highest,” and it is not clear to me that the
lexicographer was really the highest seasoner.
[Sidenote: Dr. Johnson’s rapture.]
It is nothing but “child,” “little fool,” “love,” and “dearest.” After
much critical discourse, he turns round to me, and with one of his most
amiable looks, which must be seen to form the least idea of it, he
says: “I have heard that you are engaged in the useful and honorable
employment of teaching young ladies,” upon which ... we entered upon
the history of our birth, parentage, and education; showing how we
were born with more desires than guineas; and how, as years increased
our appetites, the cupboard at home began to grow too small to gratify
them; and how, with a bottle of water, a bed, and a blanket, we
set out to seek our fortunes; and how we found a great house, with
nothing in it; and how it was like to remain so, till looking into our
knowledge-boxes, we happened to find a little learning, a good thing
when land is gone, or rather none: and so at last, by giving a little
of this little learning to those who had less, we got a good store
of gold in return; but how, alas! we wanted the wit to keep it.--“I
love you both,” cried the inamorato--“I love you all five--I never
was at Bristol--I will come on purpose to see you--what! five women
live happily together!--I will come and see you--I have spent a happy
evening--I am glad I came--God for ever bless you, you live lives to
shame duchesses.”
SALLY MORE: _Letters to her sisters, London_, 1774-5, 6, in ‘Memoirs of
Hannah More,’ by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: ‘Sir Eldred’ and ‘Bleeding Rock.’]
Her ‘Search after Happiness’ had reached a sixth edition. An edition
was sent from _Philadelphia_, with two complimentary poems addressed to
the author; and the profits of the sale had netted £100. She thought,
therefore, not without reason, that she had established sufficient
literary reputation to justify her in setting a high pecuniary value
on her writings. She, therefore, offered at once to Mr. (afterwards
Alderman) Cadell two little poems, to form a thin quarto, after the
fashion of the day, requesting to know what he would give for them,
and stating at the same time that she would not part with them for
“a very paltry consideration.” Mr. Cadell, though he had not seen
the poems, was so well prepared to entertain high expectations, that
he immediately offered to give Miss More whatever Goldsmith might
have received for his ‘Deserted Village.’ This she was unable to
discover, and therefore she laid her demand at forty guineas, which the
popularity of the volume amply justified. It comprised ‘Sir Eldred of
the Bower,’ a tale which appears to have been suggested by her taste
for ballad literature, which Percy’s ‘Reliques of Ancient Poetry’ had
revived; and ‘The Legend of the Bleeding Rock’ before mentioned. The
former of these pieces was honored by the revision, and even more, by
the critical touch of Johnson, whose pen has furnished the stanza which
now appears in it:
“My scorn has oft the dart repell’d
Which guileful beauty threw;
But goodness heard, and grace beheld,
Must every heart subdue.”
HENRY THOMPSON: ‘Life of Hannah More.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Life with the Garricks in London.]
It is not possible for anything on earth to be more agreeable to my
taste than my present manner of living. I am so much at my ease; have
a great many hours at my own disposal, to read my own books and see my
own friends; and, whenever I please, may join the most polished and
delightful society in the world. Our breakfasts are little literary
societies; there is generally company at meals, as they think it saves
time, by avoiding the necessity of seeing people at other seasons. Mr.
Garrick sets the highest value upon his time of any body I ever knew.
From dinner to tea we laugh, chat, and talk nonsense; the rest of his
time is generally devoted to study.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Admiration for Garrick.]
To the most eloquent expression of the eye, to the handwriting of the
passions on his features, to a sensibility which tears to pieces the
hearts of his auditors, to powers so unparalleled, he adds a judgment
of the most exquisite accuracy, the fruit of long experience and close
observation, by which he preserves every gradation and transition of
the passions, keeping all under the control of a just dependence and
natural consistency.... It was a fiction as delightful as fancy, and as
touching as truth. A few nights before I saw him in _Abel Drugger_; and
had I not seen him in both, I should have thought it as possible for
Milton to have written ‘Hudibras,’ and Butler ‘Paradise Lost,’ as for
one man to have played _Hamlet_ and _Drugger_ with such excellence.
I’ll tell you the most ridiculous circumstance in the world. After
dinner Garrick took up the Monthly Review (civil gentlemen, by the way,
these monthly reviewers) and read ‘Sir Eldred’ with all his pathos
and all his graces. I think I never was so ashamed in my life; but he
read it so superlatively, that I cried like a child. Only think what a
scandalous thing, to cry at the reading of one’s own poetry! I could
have beaten myself; for it looked as if I thought it very moving,
which I can truly say is far from being the case. But the beauty of
the jest lies in this: Mrs. Garrick twinkled as well as I, and made as
many apologies for crying at her husband’s reading as I did for crying
at my own verses. _She_ got out of the scrape by pretending she was
touched at the story and I by saying the same thing of the reading.
It furnished us with a great laugh at the catastrophe, when it would
really have been decent to have been a little sorrowful.
HANNAH MORE: _Letters to her sisters, London_, 1776, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Garrick’s pride in her.]
The sisters were one day dining at the Adelphi, at one of Garrick’s
small parties, at which was present “a young gentleman of family and
fortune, and greatly accomplished,” who had been visiting most of
the courts of Europe, and was just about to publish his travels in
Spain. The rest is in the writer’s own words: “Hannah sat mute; only
sometimes addressed herself to Mr. Garrick. However, this was not to
last forever. Mrs. G. threatened H. to discover who she was; but she
entreated she would be silent. At length the discovery was made by the
lady of the house saying, in her sweet, pretty, foreign accent, ‘Pray,
sir, why don’t you address your Spanish to this lady, and see if she
pronounces well?’ The gentleman stared, and instantly made violent love
to her in Italian, little thinking that in that language the lady was
his match; but when he made what he thought these vast discoveries, he
turned to Mr. Garrick--‘Why, sir, did you not tell me I was in company
with a learned lady?’ ‘With a learned lady, sir,’ replies the universal
enchanter; ‘why, sir, that lady is a great genius! Sir, she has
published more than you ever will with all your travelling! She is MY
DRAMATIC PUPIL, sir!’ Oh! the poor dear petrified gentleman! You never,
madam, saw a man so astonished; as he seems to think printing the _ne
plus ultra_ of all human perfection. He then paid vast attention to
miss, and was quite struck when he attended to her replies, as you know
she can find a pretty answer for most questions.”
HENRY THOMPSON: ‘Life of Hannah More.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Production of ‘Percy.’]
It is impossible to tell you of all the kindness and friendship of the
Garricks; he thinks of nothing, talks of nothing, writes of nothing
but ‘Percy.’... When Garrick had finished his prologue and epilogue
(which are excellent), he desired I would pay him. Dryden, he said,
used to have five guineas a piece, but as he was a richer man he would
be content if I would treat him with a handsome supper and a bottle of
claret. We haggled sadly about the price, I insisting that I could only
afford to give him a beefsteak and a pot of porter; and at about twelve
we sat down to some toast and honey, with which the temperate bard
contented himself.
_Mr. Garrick’s study, Adelphi; ten at night._--He himself puts the pen
into my hand, and bids me say that all is just as it should be. Nothing
was ever more warmly received. I went with Mr. and Mrs. Garrick; sat in
Mr. Harris’s box, in a snug, dark corner, and behaved very well; that
is, very quietly. The prologue and epilogue were received with bursts
of applause; so, indeed, was the whole; as much beyond my expectation
as my deserts!
* * * * *
I am just returned from the second night, and it was, if possible,
received more favorably than on the first. One tear is worth a thousand
hands, and I had the satisfaction to see even the men shed them in
abundance.
The critics (as is usual) met at the Bedford last night, to fix the
character of the play. If I were a heroine of romance, and was writing
to my confidante, I should tell you all the fine things that were
said; but as I am a real living Christian woman, I do not think it
would have been so modest.
HANNAH MORE: _Letters to her sisters, London_, 1777, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Profits.]
I am very much pleased to find that ‘Percy’ meets with your
approbation. It has been extremely successful, far beyond my
expectation, and more so than any _tragedy_ has been for many years.
The profits were not so great as they would have been, had it been
brought out when the town was full; yet they were such as I have no
reason to complain of. The author’s nights, sale of the copy, etc.,
amounted to near six hundred pounds (this is _entre nous_); and as my
friend Mr. Garrick has been so good as to lay it out for me on the best
security, and at five per cent., it makes a decent little addition
to my small income. Cadell gave £150--a very handsome price, with
conditional promises. He confesses (a thing not usual) that it has had
a very great sale, and that he shall get a good deal of money by it.
The first impression was near four thousand, and the second is almost
sold.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to Mrs. Gwatkin, Hampton_, 1778, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Grief at Garrick’s death.]
“I went,” she says, “yesterday with the Wilmots to pay a visit to the
coffin. The last time the same party met in the room was--_to see him
perform Macbeth!_ ... there was room for meditation till the mind
burst with thinking. His new house is not so pleasant as Hampton, nor
so splendid as the Adelphi; but it is commodious enough for all the
wants of the inhabitant. Besides it is so quiet, that he never will
be disturbed till the eternal morning; and never till then will a
sweeter voice than his be heard.” From this moment Hannah More appears
to have resolved on the entire dedication of all her mental powers
and acquirements, of all her influence, her time, her efforts, to the
attainment of a crown which should not wither on her tomb.
HENRY THOMPSON: ‘Life of Hannah More.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Production of ‘Fatal Falsehood.’]
Just returned from the house; the applause was as great as her most
sanguine friends could wish. Miss Young was interrupted three different
times, in the speech on false honor, with bursts of approbation. When
Rivers, who was thought dead, appeared in the fifth act, they quite
shouted for joy. The curtain fell to slow music,--and now for the
moment when the fate of the piece was to be decided! The audience did
her the honor to testify their approbation by the warmest applause
that could possibly be given; for when Hull came forward to ask their
permission to perform it again, they did give leave by three loud
shouts, and by many huzzaings.
----[2] MORE: _Letter to her sisters, London_, 1779, in “Memoirs of
Hannah More,” by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Life with Mrs. Garrick]
Mrs. Garrick and I read to ourselves _sans_ intermission.... We never
see a human face but each other’s. Though in such deep retirement, I am
never dull, because I am not reduced to the fatigue of entertaining
dunces, or of being obliged to listen to them. We dress like a couple
of Scaramouches, dispute like a couple of Jesuits, eat like a couple
of aldermen, walk like a couple of porters, and read as much as two
doctors of either university.
HANNAH MORE: _Letters to her sisters, Hampton_, 1780, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Love of the country.]
We go to-morrow to smell the lilacs and syringas at Hampton. I long for
the sweet tranquillity of that delicious retreat.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to Mrs. Gwatkin, London_, 1776, in ‘Memoirs,’ by
W. Roberts.
* * * * *
I did not think there could have been so beautiful a place [as
Wimbledon Park] within seven miles of London; the park has as much
variety of ground, and is as _un-Londonish_ as if it were a hundred
miles off; and I enjoyed the violets and the birds more than all the
marechal powder and the music of this foolish town.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to her sister, from London_, 1780, in ‘Memoirs,’
by W. Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Home at Cowslip Green.]
The cottage, except by the growth of the trees then planted, is
little altered from its appearance in 1785, when Miss More first took
possession of it. It is only one story high; the roof is thatch; a
smooth lawn, with a few shrubs and trees, fronts the window of the
drawing-room, which looks toward the south. A border of flowers runs
nearly round the walls. Situate in the midst of the bright and fertile
vale of Wrington, Cowslip Green commands a variety of exquisite views.
On one side of the lawn rises the abrupt hill on which the noble
mansion of Aldwick Court has since been erected. To the south spreads
the rich and sylvan valley, bounded by the dark outline of the Mendips,
with their warm-tinted herbage and dusky woods, casting out in bold
relief the picturesque village of Blagdon, and the “Magick Garden” of
Mendip Lodge with its noble terraces of
“Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view;”
while between them the cottage roofs and venerable tower of Burrington
shelter in the leafy skirts of their bold and rocky coomb.
HENRY THOMPSON: ‘Life of Hannah More.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Her charity: Episode of the Bristol milkwoman Ann Yearsley.]
Her ingratitude to Miss More has been superlative. The latter labored
unweariedly to collect subscriptions for her, and was at expense
herself for the publication; and lest the husband, who is a dolt,
should waste the sum collected, placed it out at interest for her as
trustee, besides having washed and combed her trumpery verses, and
taught them to dance in tune. The foolish woman’s head, turned with
the change of fortune and applause, and concluding that her talent,
which was only wonderful from her sphere and state of ignorance, was
marvellous genius, she grew enraged at Miss More for presuming to
prune her wild shoots, and, in her passion, accused her benevolent
and beneficent friend of defrauding her of part of the collected
charity.... Am I in the wrong, madam, for thinking that these parish
Sapphos had better be bound ’prentices to mantua-makers, than be
appointed chambermaids to Mesdemoiselles the Muses?
HORACE WALPOLE: _Letter to the Countess of Ossory_, 1786, in ‘The
Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Oxford.’ London: Henry G. Bohn, 1861.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Account of her work at Cheddar.]
Perhaps it is the best answer to your question, to describe the origin
and progress of one of our schools, detached from the rest. And I
select Cheddar, which you were the immediate cause of our taking up.
After the discoveries made of the deplorable state of that place, my
sister and I went and took lodging at a little public-house there, to
see what we could do, for we were utterly at a loss how to begin. We
found more than two thousand people in the parish, almost all very
poor; no gentry; a dozen wealthy farmers, hard, brutal, and ignorant.
We visited them all, picking up at one house (like fortune-tellers)
the name and character of the next. We told them we intended to set up
a school for their poor. They did not like it. We assured them we did
not desire a shilling from them, but wished for their concurrence, as
we knew they could influence their workmen. One of the farmers seemed
pleased and civil; he was rich, but covetous, a hard drinker, and
his wife a woman of loose morals, but good natural sense; she became
our friend sooner than some of the decent and formal, and let us a
house, the only one in the parish at £7 per annum, with a good garden.
Adjoining to it was a large ox-house; this we roofed and floored, and,
by putting in a couple of windows, it made a good school-room. While
this was doing, we went to every house in the place, and found every
house a scene of the greatest ignorance and vice. We saw but one Bible
in all the parish, and that was used to prop a flower-pot. No clergyman
had resided in it for forty years. One rode over, three miles from
Wells, to preach once on a Sunday, but no weekly duty was done, or sick
persons visited, and children were often buried without any funeral
service. Eight people in the morning and twenty in the afternoon, was a
good congregation. We spent our whole time in getting at the characters
of all the people, the employment, wages, and number of every family;
and this we have done in our other nine parishes. On a fixed day, of
which we gave notice in the church, every woman, with all her children
above six years old, met us. We took an exact list from their account,
and engaged one hundred and twenty to attend on the following Sunday.
A great many refused to send their children, unless we would pay
them for it; and not a few refused, because they were not sure of my
intentions, being apprehensive that at the end of seven years, if they
attended so long, I should acquire a power over them, and send them
beyond sea. I must have heard this myself in order to believe that so
much ignorance existed out of Africa. While this was going on, we had
set every engine at work to find proper teachers.... For the first year
these excellent women had to struggle with every kind of opposition, so
that they were frequently tempted to give up their laborious employ.
They well entitled themselves to £30 per annum salary, and some little
presents. We established a weekly school of thirty girls, to learn
reading, sewing, knitting, and spinning. The latter, though I tried
three sorts, and went myself to almost every clothing town in the
county, did not answer--partly from the exactions of the manufacturer,
and partly from its not suiting the genius of the place. They preferred
knitting after the school hours on week-days. The mother and daughter
[the teachers employed by Miss More] visited the sick, chiefly with a
view to their spiritual concerns; but we concealed the true motive at
first; and in order to procure them access to the houses and hearts
of the people, they were furnished not only with medicine, but with a
little money, which they administered with great prudence. They soon
gained their confidence, read and prayed to them; and in all respects
did just what a good clergyman does in other parishes. At the end of
a year we perceived that much ground had been gained among the poor;
but the success was attended with no small persecution from the rich,
though some of them grew more favorable. I now ventured to have a
sermon read after school on a Sunday evening, inviting a few of the
parents, and keeping the grown-up children. It was at first thought a
very Methodistical measure, and we got a few broken windows; but quiet
perseverance carried us through.
Finding the distresses of these poor people uncommonly great (for their
wages are but 1_s._ per day), and fearing to abuse the bounty of my
friends by too indiscriminate liberality, it occurred to me that I
could make what I had to bestow go much further, by instituting clubs
or societies for the women, as is done for men in other places. It was
no small trouble to accomplish this; for though the subscription was
only three half-pence a week, it was more than they could always raise;
yet the object appeared so important, that I found it would be good
economy privately to give widows and other very poor women money to
pay their club.... In some parishes we have one hundred and fifty poor
women thus associated.... We have an anniversary feast of tea, and I
get some of the clergy, and not a few of the better sort of people, to
come to it. We wait on the women, who sit and enjoy their dignity.
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to Mr. Wilberforce_, 1791, in ‘Memoirs,’ by W.
Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: A visit from Southey.]
I visited Hannah More, at Cowslip Green, on Monday last, and seldom
have I lived a pleasanter day. She knew my opinions, and treated them
with a flattering deference; her manners are mild, her information
considerable, and her taste correct. There are five sisters, and each
of them would be remarked in a mixed company. They pay for and direct
the education of one thousand poor children.
ROBERT SOUTHEY: _Letter_, Oct., 1795, in ‘Life and Correspondence,’
edited by Rev. C. C. Southey, M. A. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and
Longman’s, 1849.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Obstacles to her work.]
We have in hand a new and very laborious undertaking, on account of its
great distance from home. But the object appeared to me so important,
that I did not feel myself at liberty to neglect it. It is a parish,
the largest in our county or diocese, in a state of great depravity and
ignorance. The opposition I have met with in endeavoring to establish
an institution for the religious instruction of these people would
excite your astonishment. The principal adversary is a farmer of
£1000 a year, who says the lower classes are _fated_ to be wicked and
ignorant, and that as wise as I am I cannot alter what is _decreed_. He
has labored to ruin the poor curate for favoring our cause, and says
he shall not have a workman to obey him, for I shall make them all as
wise as himself. In spite of this hostility, however, which far exceeds
anything I have met with, I am building a house, and taking up things
on such a large scale, that you must not be surprised if I get into
jail for debt (even should I escape it for my irregular proceedings,
which is the most to be feared).... Providence, I trust, will carry
me through the business of this new undertaking; for, in spite of the
active malevolence we experience, I have brought already between three
and four hundred under a course of instruction: the worst part of the
story is, that thirty miles there and back is a little too much these
short days; and when we get there, our house has as yet neither windows
nor doors; but if we live till next summer, things will mend, and in so
precarious a world as this is, a winter was not to be lost!
HANNAH MORE: _Letter to Mrs. Kennicott_, 1798, in ‘Memoirs,’ by W,
Roberts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Her friends.]
It was remarked by Mrs. More that she never lost a friend but by
death; and as she continued to the last enlarging the number of this
privileged order, she had, in her later years, and in her rural
seclusion, less time at command than she had enjoyed at Hampton,
when her evenings passed in the crowded saloons of the fashionable
and the literary. To save her own time, as well as to accommodate
her numerous visitors, she opened her house daily from twelve or
one o’clock to three, for what she not inappropriately termed her
“levee.” This, however, was far from securing the rest of her time for
solitude, as friends from distant quarters were frequently besetting
Barley Wood, and making importunate and irresistible demands on her
leisure. Ingenious, however, to do good, she now employed herself
in manufacturing little useful and ornamental articles, to be sold
at fancy fairs for charitable purposes; the fact that they were the
produce of her industry investing them with many times their intrinsic
value. The same energy which distinguished her literary pursuits, was
conspicuous in this humbler path of usefulness. On one occasion of this
sort, she knitted so assiduously as to produce an abscess in her hand.
[Sidenote: Her industry.]
HENRY THOMPSON: ‘Life of Hannah More.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Her determination.]
The energy of her mind in carrying into execution any purpose which
had been adopted after sufficient consideration was very remarkable.
In conformity with this part of her character, her plan was, in any
new resolution which involved the exercise of self-denial, to contend
with the most difficult part of the undertaking first, after which she
used to say that she found the remaining sacrifices comparatively easy
to be submitted to. On this principle, having resolved to desist from
going to the theatre about the time her play of ‘Percy’ was revived,
she determined to make that the immediate occasion for carrying her
new resolution into practice. Mrs. Siddons was then at the height of
her glory, and was to act the part of the heroine of the tragedy, a
character which she was said to exhibit with remarkable success; and
Mrs. Hannah More was in the midst of a brilliant society of friends
and admirers, who all attended the representation; but here she was
determined to make her first stand against this particular temptation,
and to break the spell of the enchantment while standing in the centre
of the magic circle.
Another anecdote will show the same principle brought into exercise on
a very different occasion. As her limited income began to be sensibly
diminished at one time by her travelling expenses, she determined to
perform her journeys in stage-coaches; and in order to overcome at
once every obstacle that pride might interpose, she resolved to pay a
visit to a nobleman on which she was about to set out, in one of these
vehicles; which, as there was a public road through the park, set her
down at the door of the mansion. She has more than once described her
conflicting sensations when his lordship, proceeding through a line of
servants in rich liveries, came to hand her out of her conveyance--a
conveyance at that time much less used than at present by persons of
high respectability. Thus it was the policy of this able tactician to
commence her operations by a decisive blow, whereby the main strength
of the opposing foe was at once broken and dispersed, and her victory
made easy and secure.
WM. ROBERTS: ‘Memoirs of Hannah More.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Appearance in old age.]
Her form was small and slight, her features wrinkled with age; but
the burden of eighty years had not impaired her gracious smile, nor
lessened the fire of her eyes, the clearest, the brightest, and the
most searching I have ever seen. They were singularly dark--positively
black they seemed as they looked forth among carefully-trained tresses
of her own white hair; and absolutely sparkled while she spoke of those
of whom she was the venerated link between the present and the long
past. Her manner on entering the room, while conversing, and at our
departure, was positively spritely; she tripped about from console to
console, from window to window, to show us some gift that bore a name
immortal, some cherished reminder of other days--almost of another
world, certainly of another age; for they were memories of those whose
deaths were registered before the present century had birth.
She was clad, I well remember, in a rich dress of pea-green silk. It
was an odd whim, and contrasted somewhat oddly with her patriarchal age
and venerable countenance, yet was in harmony with the youth of her
step and her increasing vivacity, as she laughed and chatted, chatted
and laughed; her voice strong and clear as that of a girl.
S. C. HALL: ‘A Book of Memories of Great Men and Women of the Age.’
London: Virtue & Co., 1871.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Relations with Macaulay.]
She was a very kind friend to me from childhood. Her notice first
called out my literary tastes. Her presents laid the foundation of my
library. She was to me what Ninon was to Voltaire--begging her pardon
... and yours for comparing myself to a great man. She really was
a second mother to me. I have a real affection for her memory. I,
therefore, could not possibly write about her, unless I wrote in her
praise; and all the praise which I could give to her writings, even
after straining my conscience in her favor, would be far indeed from
satisfying any of her admirers.
T. B. MACAULAY: _Letter to W. Napier_, in the former’s ‘Life and
Letters,’ by G. Otto Trevelyan. New York: Harper & Bros., 1876.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: A comment on ‘Cælebs.’]
Have you read ‘Cælebs’? It has reached eight editions in so many weeks,
yet literally it is one of the very poorest sort of common novels,
with the drawback of dull religion in it. Had the religion been high
and flavored, it would have been something. I borrowed this ‘Cælebs in
Search of a Wife,’ from a very careful, neat lady, and returned it with
this stuff written in the beginning:--
If ever I marry a wife
I’d marry a landlord’s daughter,
For then I may sit in the bar,
And drink cold brandy-and-water.
CHARLES LAMB: _Letter to Coleridge_, in ‘Final Memorials’ of the
former, by T. N. Talfourd. London: Edward Moxon, 1848.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: George Eliot’s opinion.]
I like neither her letters, nor her books, nor her character. She was
that most disagreeable of all monsters, a blue-stocking--a monster that
can only exist in a miserably false state of society, in which a woman
with but a smattering of learning or philosophy is classed along with
singing mice or card-playing pigs.
GEORGE ELIOT: _Letter to J. Sibree_, 1848, in ‘Life,’ edited by J. W.
Cross. New York: Harper & Bros., 1885.
* * * * *