Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind 9781442617070

Table of contents :
Contents
Illustrations
Acknowledgments
Note on Texts
Chronology
Introduction
The American
1. New World Thinking
2. An English Sappho
3. Making a Trade of Her Wit
4. Uniting the Laudable Affections of the Mind
The Professional
5. Debating “Genius”
6. Prospering in a Patronizing Profession
7. “The Same Darling End … by Different Means”
8. Recasting a Career
The Celebrity
9. “The Law of Custom” … or of “Fools”?
10. “Work upon That Now!”
11. Friendship, Marriage, and Motherhood
12. “A Pen That Conferred Immortality”
Lennox’s Afterlife
Notes
Publications, Editions, and Reprints
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

CHARLOTTE LENNOX An Independent Mind

Charlotte Lennox (c. 1729–1804) was an eighteenth-century English novelist whose most celebrated work, The Female Quixote (1752), is just one of eighteen works spanning a forty-three year career. Susan Carlile’s critical biography of Lennox focuses on her role as the central figure in the professionalization of authorship in England. Lennox engaged in the most important literary and social discussions of her time, including the institutionalizing of Shakespeare as national poet, the career of playwriting for women, and the role of magazines as instructive texts for an increasingly literate population. Her stories of independent women influenced Jane Austen, especially in her novels Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility. Carlile’s work is the first biographical treatment of Lennox to include the cache of correspondence that was released in the early 1970s, and reveals Lennox’s pioneering role in making Greek drama accessible and in serializing novels in magazines. Carlile places Lennox in the context of intellectual and cultural history and reveals how she was part of an ambitious, progressive literary and social movement. is a professor in the Department of English at California State University, Long Beach. susan carlile

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SUSAN CARLILE

Charlotte Lennox An Independent Mind

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

© University of Toronto Press 2018 Toronto Buffalo London utorontopress.com Printed in Canada ISBN 978-1-4426-4848-7 (cloth) ISBN 978-1-4426-2623-2 (paper) Printed on acid-free, 100% post-consumer recycled paper with vegetable-based inks.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Carlile, Susan, 1967–, author Charlotte Lennox : an independent mind / Susan Carlile. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4426-4848-7 (hardcover). – ISBN 978-1-4426-2623-2 (softcover) 1. Lennox, Charlotte, approximately 1729–1804.  2.  Women authors, English – Biography.  I. Title. PR3541.L27C37 2018   823'.6   C2017-906627-7

University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council, an agency of the Government of Ontario.

an Ontario government agency un organisme du gouvernement de l’Ontario

Funded by the Financé par le Government gouvernement du Canada of Canada

For Norbert

Figure 1 Charlotte Lennox’s calling card, No. 2 Crown St., Westminster. Houghton library-MS Hyde 10.

Contents

List of Illustrations  ix Acknowledgments  xi Note on Texts  xv Chronology  xvii

Introduction 3 The American 1  New World Thinking  23 2  An English Sappho  37 3  Making a Trade of Her Wit  54 4  Uniting the Laudable Affections of the Mind  81 The Professional 5  Debating “Genius”  109 6  Prospering in a Patronizing Profession  137 7  “The Same Darling End … by Different Means”  168 8  Recasting a Career  205

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Contents

The Celebrity 9  “The Law of Custom” … or of “Fools”?  229 10  “Work upon That Now!”  252 11  Friendship, Marriage, and Motherhood  281 12  “A Pen That Conferred Immortality”  314 Lennox’s Afterlife  343 Notes  359 Publications, Editions, and Reprints  437 Bibliography  445 Index  465

Illustrations

  1 Charlotte Lennox’s calling card  vi   2 Engraving by Franceso Bartolozzi of Charlotte Lennox’s 1761 portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds  xx   3 Engraving by Henry Richard Cook of Charlotte Lennox’s 1761 portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds  xxi   4 Lennox’s London, with her addresses  xxii–xxiii   5 Charlotte Lennox to David Garrick, 25 October 1768  xxiv–xxv   6 Map of North America, by Eman Bown, 1747  27   7 Thomas Pelham-Holles, Duke of Newcastle  41   8 Title page for Shakespear Illustrated, 1753  111   9 Giuseppe Baretti, after Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1773  115 10 Frontispiece in the Lady’s Museum, 1760  192 11 Illustration for “Philosophy for the Ladies,” in the Lady’s Museum, 1760  196 12 George Colman, by Sir Joshua Reynolds  234 13 Frontispiece of The New Foundling Hospital of Wit, part 3, 1769  241 14 Playbill for debut night of Old City Manners, 9 November 1775  264 15 “The Nine Muses of Great Britain,” after similar painting by Richard Samuel, 1778  279 16 Frances Reynolds, by Samuel William Reynolds, after Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1824  290 PLATES (found following page 262)   1 “A View of Fort George with the City of New York from the Southwest,” possibly by William Burgis, 1764

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  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9 10 11 12

Illustrations

“Plan of the City of Albany about 1770,” after Robert Yates, 1800 Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, Princess of Wales, by Charles Phillips, c. 1736 Samuel Johnson, by James Barry “Old Somerset House from the River Thames,” by Canaletto Catharine Macaulay, by Robert Edge Pine “Westminster Bridge from the North on Lord Mayor’s Day, 1746–47,” by Canaletto Portraits in the Characters of the Muses in Temple of Apollo, by Richard Samuel “James Boswell and His Family,” by Henry Singleton Bennet Langton, by Johann Zoffany “Asculapius, Flora, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus,” by James Caldwall, after John Opie. From New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linneaus, 1807 “Cupid Inspiring the Plants with Love,” by T. Burke, after P. Reinagle, 1805. From New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linneaus, 1807

Acknowledgments

This study of Lennox was written on three continents and in six countries (the United States, Canada, England, Germany, Spain, and India). Reading, researching (sometimes via digital archives and often with scanned documents), and writing in these distinct locations seemed fitting as I told the story of Lennox’s peripatetic life, which began with a transatlantic childhood. The varying spaces in which this narrative was constructed also helped me think about the nuances of Lennox’s expansive and unconventional mind and the ways she expressed those shades in the print forms she was able to access. My debts in bringing her ideas to the twenty-first century are legion, and I can never hope to repay them here. However, I am delighted to try. Given the nature of virtual research, the number of libraries I have consulted could never be fully enumerated. However, I would not want to miss an opportunity to call attention to the importance of the physical library. I have been known to claim that my best work, not only in research but also in writing, happens within the walls of public libraries and special collections around the world. I would like to thank librarians who have offered support above and beyond: Jennie Rathburn, Houghton Library, Harvard University; Fergus Wilde, Chetham’s Library, Manchester, UK; Jean Klemp, University of Otago Special Collections, New Zealand; Kirstene Lang, Glasgow City Archives; Jan Ottosson, The Royal National Library of Sweden; Elizabeth Covert, Albany Institute Library; and Dawn Downes, Winchester University Library. I am grateful for the space and time granted to me by Chawton House Library, Hampshire, England; Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi, India; the National Endowment for the Humanities, Winchester University, Winchester, England; and the Huntington Library, San Marino, California. Precious, sustained months allowed me to wrangle facts and ideas into sentences, paragraphs, and chapters that could not have been formed without these quiet stretches.

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Acknowledgments

This concentrated study would never have been launched without the unflagging faith of the late O M Brack, Jr. His mentorship was invaluable in the earliest stages of this project. Few books are in fact singular efforts, but this one has genuinely involved a village. Given the enormous gestation period it required, this project benefited from many scholars who had faith in it and have generously provided sound advice and assistance. Their expertise corrected a host of embarrassing missteps and outright errors, and to them I will forever be indebted: Paul Alkon, Regulus Allen, Emily Hodgeson Anderson, Eve Tavor Bannet, Janine Barchus, Jennie Batchelor, Kevin Berland, Audrey Bilger, Dorothee Birke, Mary Caputi, Norma Clarke, Patricia Cleary, E.J. Cleary, Kate Chisholm, Carol Comfort, Allison Conway, Taylor Corse, Mark Crosby, Christina Davidson, Catherine Dille, Clorinda Donato, Gillian Dow, Markman Ellis, Marilyn Francus, Matthew Grenby, Isobel Grundy, Patricia Hamilton, Corrinne Harol, Jocelyn Harris, Hilary Havens, Elizabeth Horan, Neil Hultgren, Misty Jaffe, Annie Janovitz, Alessa Johns, Heather King, Kathryn R. King, Katharine Kittredge, Karin Kukkonen, Marta Kvande, Edith Larson, Ann Little, Eileen Luhr, Mark Lussier, Rachel Lustiger, Claire Martin, William McCarthy, Elaine McGirr, Mary Helen McMurran, Sal Nicolazzo, Felicity Nussbaum, David Orme, Ruth Perry, Manushag Powell, Sarah Prescott, Karolyn Reddy, Fiona Ritchie, Kirsten Saxton, Betty Schellenberg, A.J. Schmitz, Dianna Solomon, Martine van Elk, Dianne Vipond, Howard Weinbrot, Hugh Wilford, and David Worrall. The Southern California Eighteenth-Century Studies group also helped me refine my thinking for what became chapter 7. Megan Hiatt and Norbert Schürer read every single word of earlier drafts of the entire manuscript and were more generous with their patience and attention than I had any right to expect. Still, the errors that remain are mine, and mine alone. Exceptional California State University, Long Beach student researchers and editors Taleen Altebarmakian, Eric Hamilton, Jessica James, Jennifer Killian, Christopher Maye, Cara Sharp, Mary Sotnick, and Charles White were particularly generous with their time. In fact, I would like to thank each of my students who continually teaches me about the recursive nature, and the “good pain,” that solid writing usually demands. The anonymous reviewers at University of Toronto Press also deserve my immense gratitude for their painstaking careful reading and exceptional feedback. Finally, I am grateful to my editor Richard Ratzlaff at University of Toronto Press for his sustained interest in this project, the readers he enlisted for the incisive comments that genuinely improved this manuscript, Judy Williams for her excellent copyediting, and Barb Porter for meticulous final oversight. Since 2001, CSULB has been the home in which Lennox’s story has flourished. Assigned time, difference-in-pay leave in 2007–8, and an extended sabbatical in

Acknowledgments

 xiii

2011–12 were essential to the completion of this project. Thanks go to Deans Gerry Riposa and David Wallace. I wish to especially thank Dean Dee Abrahamse, who supported the recovery of my preliminary cache of research (after it was stolen from my car in my move to California in 2001 and before digital forms of this material were available). Also, without the amazing team of CSULB Interlibrary Loan staff, this book would never have been completed. Finally, English Department Chair Eileen Klink has provided constant enthusiastic encouragement. Over the years, an army of remarkable people has offered sustenance and wonderfully timed encouragement. Special thanks are due to Ginny Allen, Ava Arndt, Frances Horvath Bachman, Laura Kroesen Bauer, Helen Buttivant, Lesley Deck, Noelle Dera, Eliza Factor, David Folkers, Ann Gibson, Lisa Glatt, Suzanne Greenberg, Darlene Goto, Liesl Haas, Rich, Xavier, Carys, and Juliet Haesly, Anita Hamilton, Claire Hurlburt, Katy Hyman, Kathleen Keirn, Lloyd, Ewan, and Alice Kermode, Karen Knab, Carol Obery Lapes, Myriam Loeschen, Mary Paisley, Kim Trimble, and Andrew, Martha, Jack, and Gaby Wittenberg. During numerous research and writing trips, many families and individuals have shared their welcoming homes replete with laughter and friendship: Jennie Batchelor and Dave, Leah, and Ben Motton; Patricia and David Brewerton; Judith Brückmann, Finn Harders, and Eske Harders; Helen, Martyn, and Hope Buttivant; Shubhra, Kunal, and Baishakh Chakrabarti; Gillian Dow, Alexis Fouquier, and Edward Dow-Fouquier; David Folkers; Matthew Grenby and Mary Haworth; Gerlinde Hollweg and the late Wolfgang Krüger; Georgina Meneses Lorente and Miguel Angel Perez; Mary Helen McMurran; Chris Mounsey; Begoña Gonzalez Santander, Gerardo Cabrera del Toro, and Teresa Cabrera Santander; and Debbie Welham and the late Tim Welham. These generous souls made research and writing while travelling all the more pleasurable. I am deeply grateful for the unwavering support of Gretel Schürer and Ernst and Sue Schürer, who listened with interest (over years and years) to the long saga of seeing this book become a reality. Special thanks will always go to my parents, Jim and Lynn Carlile. From my father I inherited the patience of a craftsman: board by board and nail by nail. My mother passed down to me the extremely useful quality of wilful optimism. These characteristics are perhaps the most important factors that have brought this book to life. My late grandmother, Doris Obery, is another example of an independent mind. In her late-1970s red Firebird, she made regular cross-country road trips from her farm, which she managed for forty-six years in Dunlap, Illinois, to her cabin on Mount Lemmon in Arizona. Her spirit also lives in these pages. Lastly and best, I really cannot adequately thank Norbert Schürer; words fail. His Charlotte Lennox: Correspondence and Miscellaneous Documents was and is

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Acknowledgments

indispensable. Lennox brought us together – at the Western Society for Eighteenth-Century Studies in 2000 – and ever since, his extraordinarily steady, kind, and good-humoured ways have buoyed this book into existence … and me along the way. No one could ask for a better intellectual and emotional partnership. It is with boundless love that I dedicate this book to him.

Note on Texts

Punctuation and spelling in Lennox’s correspondence have been modernized. Modernized vocabulary is indicated with brackets.

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Chronology

1729/30 Born to James and Catherine Ramsay, between 11 March 1729 and 9 March 1730, in Gibraltar. The family returns to England while Charlotte is still an infant. 1738/9 Ramsay family moves from England to Albany, New York, where James Ramsay is colonel of the British fort. 1741/2 Charlotte returns to England and is patronized by Lady Cecilia Isabella Finch and Lady Mary, the Marchioness of Rockingham. 1742 James Ramsay dies in Albany, New York (10 March). 1746 Plays Lavinia in Nicholas Rowe’s The Fair Penitent (Drury Lane Theatre). 1747  Poems on Several Occasions published in London (November). Marries Alexander Lennox at St George’s Chapel, Mayfair, London (6 October). 1748 Acts in a play at Richmond. 1749 Stars as the main protagonist, Almeria, in Congreve’s The Mourning Bride (Little Theatre, Haymarket) (22 February). 1750 “The Art of Coquetry” reprinted from Poems on Several Occasions and “The Birthday Ode to the Princess of Wales” by “Mrs. Lennox” in Gentleman’s Magazine (20 November). 1751  The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself published in London.  The Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, translated from the French, published in London. 1 volume, 212 pages. 1752  The Female Quixote published in London. 1753–4  Shakespear Illustrated (3 volumes) published in London. 1756 Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, translated from the French, published in London. Expanded from 1751 to 3 volumes, 1676 pages.  The Memoirs of the Countess of Berci, translated from the French, published in London.

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Chronology

 The History of Count de Cominge, translated from the French, published in London. 1757 Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon, translated from the French, published in London. 1758  Philander (dramatic pastoral) published in London, but never performed. 1758  Henrietta published in London. 1760  The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, translated from the French, published in London. 1760 The Lady’s Museum, monthly magazine, published in London (March 1760–February 1761). This included the serialized novel “The History of Harriot and Sophia,” which later became the novel Sophia; The History of the Count de Comminge; and “History of the Dutchess of Beaufort” from The Memoirs of Sully. All republished later. 1761 Lennox’s portrait painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which is later engraved by Cooke and Bartolozzi. 1762  Sophia, previously “The History of Harriot and Sophia,” published in London. 1764  The History of the Marquis of Lussan and Isabella, names and ending changed from The History of the Count de Comminge in the Lady’s Museum. 1765 Daughter Henrietta Holles Lennox born. 1767  The History of Eliza published in London. 1769  The Sister staged by George Colman (18 February) and published twice that year in London. 1771 Son George Louis born. 1774  Meditations and Penitential Prayers translated from the French, published in London. 1775  Old City Manners staged in London (9 November), followed by seven more performances and a publication in London. 1779 Lennox appears in Richard Samuel’s portrait The Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, which also includes poet and critic Anna Letitia Barbauld, translator Elizabeth Carter, actress and writer Elizabeth Griffith, painter Angelica Kauffman, singer Elizabeth Linley Sheridan, historian Catharine Macaulay, patron and “Queen of the Bluestockings” Elizabeth Montagu, and educator Hannah More. 1782–3 Daughter Henrietta Holles Lennox dies. 1783 George Lennox’s poems “Elegy, in Imitation of Shenstone, on Mrs. Yates,” “Laura,” “Sylvana,” “On Miss Lennox,” “Verses, Occasioned by Repeatedly Seeing the Astonishing Poetical Productions of Master

Chronology

 xix

George Louis Lenox,” “Verses Written in the Character of an Unfortunate Young Lady,” “Verses on a Beautiful Young Lady,” “Verses Addressed to the Prime Minister,” and “Verses to a Young Married Lady” all first appear in the British Magazine and Review. George’s short fiction “Annette, a Fairy Tale” serialized in the British Magazine and Review 3 and reprinted in the Edinburgh Weekly Magazine (1783–4), the New Novelist’s Magazine 1 (1786), the Hibernian 1783–4, and the Gleaner 1 (1805). 1784 George Lennox’s poem “The Fate of Sophia” in Edinburgh Weekly Magazine and Wit’s Magazine; or, Library of Momus. 1787 “On the Death of Miss Henrietta Hollis Lennox” published in the World and Fashionable Advertiser and in other newspapers and magazines until 1820, and George Lennox’s short novel “The Duke of Milan” printed in New Novelist’s Magazine and Weekly Entertainer. 1790  Euphemia published in London. 1792 Lennox subsidized by the Royal Literary Fund until her death. 1793 George Lennox emigrates to Baltimore, Maryland (August). 1804 Charlotte Lennox dies in Dean’s Yard, Westminster and is buried in what is today called St John’s Gardens, a small park just south of Westminster Abbey.

Figure 2 Charlotte Lennox, engraving by Francesco Bartolozzi after Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1793. National Portrait Gallery.

Figure 3 Charlotte Lennox, engraving by Henry Richard Cook after Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1813. Author’s collection.

Key to Figure 4 Lennox’s London 1. c. 1745 Residence at the Rockinghams’ after arrival in London (4 Grosvenor Sq.) 2. 1746 Played Lavinia in The Fair Penitent (Drury Lane Theatre) 3. 1747 Poems on Several Occasions was produced (Samuel Paterson’s bookshop) 4. 1747 Lived in this area according to marriage contract (St Ann’s, Westminster) 5. 1747 Married Alexander Lennox (St George’s Chapel, Mayfair) 6. 1749 Performed as Almeria in Mourning Bride. A benefit performance for CL (Little Theatre Haymarket, site of current Haymarket Theatre) 7. 1751 Address, 21 November (Plow Court, Fetter Lane) 8. 1751 Devil’s Tavern, where Samuel Johnson and his Club celebrated Harriot Stuart late into the night, December 9. 1753 Alexander found Italian tutor Giuseppe Barretti (Orange Coffee House) 10. 1753 Address, 6 March (“Over against the King’s Bakers in Berry St., St. James”) 11. 1757 Address, 10 March (“at Mr. Cooper’s, Gerrard St.”) 12. 1759 Address, 16 March (“Mr. Austin’s engraver”) 13. 1761 Address, 7 July (“First house on the right hand on Camberwell Green (with a basket, Surrey)”) 14. 1763 John Almon’s bookshop, where New Foundling Hospital of Wit was produced. 15. 1765 Address listed when daughter Harriet is born, 26 March 1765 (King St., Covent Garden) 16. 1768–73 Residence at Somerset House. 17. 1773 & 1775 Address, 20 May & 16 October 1773 and 14 November 1775 (“Great Tower Hill, 1775 the corner of Muscovey Court”) 18. 1777–8 Address, 16 June (No 7 Nottingham St., “the greatest part of a pretty house”) 19. 1784 Essex Head Club, where Samuel Johnson declared, “I dined yesterday at Mrs. Garrick’s, with Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and Miss Fanny Burney. Three such woman are not to be found: I know not where I could

find a fourth, except Mrs. Lennox, who is superior to them all.” 20. 1790 Harrison’s Bookshop, where James Montgomery met and admired CL (18/19 Paternoster Row) 21. c. 1790s Address sometime between 1785 and 1801 (“At Mr. Johnson’s No. 12 Ranelagh St. Pimlico”) 22. 1792–3 Address at Frances Reynolds’s home, 30 January (Queen Sq.) and No. 17 Dartmouth St., where Lennox probably lived until around 7 May 1793 23. 1793 Address, 7 May (Lodged with “a good woman” No. 6 Tufton St.) 24. 1794 Address, 28 April (“Ranelagh Walk, Chelsea”) 25. 1802 Prince of Wales coffee house, 14 ­January. Royal Literary Fund meeting, in which CL’s needs were the only agenda item. 26. 1802 Address, 20 January (“Dartmouth St., Westminster,” “at a cabinet makers”) 27. 1803 The Crown and Anchor Tavern, 20 January. Royal Literary Fund meeting to discuss CL’s continuing needs 28. 1804 Died, 2 January, in Dean’s Yard, Westminster 29. 1804 Burial site (“Buried with the common soldiery in the further burying ground of Broad Chapel”) * n.d. Lennox’s calling card (No. 2 Crown St., Westminster) (fig. 1, p. vi). NB “Address” refers to the return address Lennox wrote on correspondence. She may not have been living at exactly this location, but rather nearby, and would pick up mail here (cf. Schürer, Correspondence). Lennox also used addresses outside this area of the city, in Kensington: 1758 “at Mrs. Wilks’ in Hubbards buildings Kensington,” 23 April 1782 “William Armitage Esqr, Parson’s Yards, Kensington, 7 May 1784 “Mr. Annis’s, Terrace Kensington, Kensington” High St. Kennsington – on the highway to Brentford

29

23

22 & 26

6 9

12

10

14

4 11

28

5

21

1

12

*

25 3

15

2 16 27

19

8

7

13

20

17

Figure 4 Lennox’s London with important addresses. Bowles Reduced New Pocket Plan of the Cities of London and Westminster (1795). Courtesy of Geographicus Rare Antique Maps.

24

18

Figure 5a Charlotte Lennox to David Garrick, 25 October 1768. British Library 29300, f.45.

Figure 5b Charlotte Lennox to David Garrick, 25 October 1768. British Library 29300, f.45.

Transcription Sir, The success which has lately attended Writers for the Stage, and some of them too, of my own Sex, has encouraged me to write a comedy, which I beg you will read with your usual candor, and that indulgence you have always shown for my writings. You will find that I have pursued a hint you gave me some years ago, which has furnished me with one of the most interesting incidents in the whole piece; You may depend upon it that every alteration, and amendment which you judge necessary, will be readily, and thankfully admitted. I am so fully persuaded of your justice, and benevolence, that I do not think you will reject my play unless you find it wholly destitute of merit, and by accepting it you will confer a great obligation upon me, and put it in the power of my friends to serve me, in a way in which they have often wishd to serve me, and often recommended to me. But whatever be your determination Sir, I earnestly entreat you to acquaint me with it soon; suspense is a most uneasy state of mind, and on this occasion, delay will be productive of great inconveniencies. I am Sir Your Obligd humble Servant Charlotte Lennox. I have not yet written the concluding lines, but that can be done, when the piece has received your corrections. Somerset-house October 25, 1768

CHARLOTTE LENNOX An Independent Mind

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Introduction

When I praise, it is with warmth and a kind of enthusiasm, such is my natural temper … I mean what I say. (Charlotte Lennox to David Garrick, 4 August 1774)1

Twenty-two-year-old Charlotte Lennox stood at an imposing front door. Before her was the stately home of a powerful man. Samuel Richardson was not royal, nor an aristocrat. He did not even hold a political position, and he might not have been impressive to many walking behind her on this prosperous and bustling London street, but to Charlotte his influence could make the difference between paying the rent in the space she shared with her unreliable husband at 22 Plow Court, Fetter Lane, or having to once again slip away in the night because they could not pay their bills. She scanned this daunting portal at Salisbury Court, an area known as a “stronghold of City respectability.”2 How would she appear to Richardson? He was one of the most successful printers in the city, but he was even more famous for his novels Clarissa and Pamela, which had recently catapulted the fifty-two-year-old into the limelight. Her clothes were worn, even threadbare, and she may have worried that he would only see her as a charity case. Charlotte had requested this visit, but what would she say? Making an impression on him was essential, but she wouldn’t do it in the usual way that women impressed men at this time. Her mind was the commodity he would assess, and he had a draft of the early part of her second novel, The Female Quixote. She was desperate for him to see her literary talent. He had received only a grammar school education, but she was at an even greater disadvantage, since her learning had been acquired mostly through her own devices. Still, Charlotte’s reputation was not insubstantial, as she had already published a book of poetry and a novel. Richardson’s help could be the difference between a few more years of stability or a return to the transience that had dominated her young life.

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Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

Next to Charlotte stood her ally, the middle-aged Samuel Johnson. He would later rise in the literary world to the status of a king, worshipped in literary salons and on the bookstands. But in this year of 1751, he was a minor celebrity with a big personality. Having published pieces for the Gentleman’s Magazine, most famously his poem “London,” and with a contract for The Dictionary, Johnson was convinced that Lennox had talent. Now, he was intent on introducing her to Richardson in the hope that the manuscript of The Female Quixote would be supported by this publishing celebrity. In the brief moment before they knocked on this successful man’s door, Charlotte turned to Johnson and asked him to leave. Johnson was surprised, and reported this dismissal to a friend: “She desired me to leave her.” Charlotte reasoned with him: “I am under great restraint in your presence; but if you leave me alone with Richardson, I’ll give you a very good account of him.” Charlotte wanted to meet Richardson on her own terms. Instead of being presented, she would introduce herself. Cleverly she dismissed Johnson by offering him something he would appreciate: her own personalized report of Richardson.3 This scene is emblematic of the spirit that would facilitate Lennox’s successful career as a literary and cultural critic, a novelist, an editor, a translator, a poet, a playwright, a naturalist, a philosopher, and a proto-feminist. In most literary histories, Johnson is considered “the father of English literature,” while Lennox has been relatively forgotten. Yet their literary conversations, fuelled by a strong connection of mutual respect, as evidenced here, began on equal footing early in their careers and were sustained for nearly two decades. Lennox’s career not only required ready participation in sociability but also obliged her to strategic intervention. In addition, her particular location within the literary world “afforded her opportunity of observing with a contemplative eye, obliquities which to many would have been intolerable.”4 This young woman at Richardson’s door, who would frequently omit the word “obedient” from the conventional closing “your humble and obedient servant” in most of her correspondence, drew on her unconventional childhood to face and overcome the numerous obstacles that lay in her path. In fact, her bold move at Richardson’s door is emblematic of what made her successes possible. With his help, The Female Quixote would go on to become a bestseller. Charlotte Lennox would succeed in the literary marketplace without familial support, relying mostly on the grit of her strong-minded, and sometimes fiery, personality. In turn, she would be described as “a much better writer”5 than her contemporaries, and the products of her enterprising intellect would be celebrated in newspapers and magazines from 1747 to well past her death. Nine years earlier, at the tender age of thirteen, Charlotte Ramsay (her maiden name) had arrived in London alone. She was already intimately familiar with

Introduction

 5

travel and upheaval, and her transient childhood contributed to the confidence that would dare to send Johnson away. Born in Gibraltar to Scottish and Irish parents, she was shuttled back to England as a baby and then sailed with her family to Albany, New York, where she would live for three years as a preteen. However, when she returned to London, Charlotte found herself without a friend. This childhood and later her adulthood were experienced as an outsider. Married to a Scot, she had concerns about interests outside of England and these remained a constant presence. Thus, for Lennox the personal and the public were equally urgent matters, and she wove them into her works in a remarkably successful manner. During her long literary career, Lennox would publish eighteen works – poetry, novels, plays, essays, literary criticism, and translations, as well as a periodical – that illustrated and critiqued the most dominant themes of her writing: hierarchy and subordination. Although she was spiky and her publications challenged social norms, her works sustained a forty-three-year writing career and literary celebrity in an era in which women were hesitant to make a profession of writing and all authors were struggling to work in a rapidly shifting literary marketplace. A figure very much of the Enlightenment, a term that is often identified with “the modern,” Lennox witnessed shifts in the role of the author in society, challenges to strict class hierarchy, and the rise of incipient democracy, and she embraced these changes in her own life and work. In her writing she engaged in the most important literary discussions of her time: the development of the novel, the role of Shakespeare as a literary hero, the transnational exchange of literary works between England and the Continent, the accessibility of Greek drama for all readers, women’s access to playwriting careers, and the role of periodicals for an increasingly literate population. As evidence of her reach, her writing engaged George III only months before he took the throne. As a successful practitioner of the key tool of the Enlightenment, writing, Lennox employed a wide range of genres, rewrote narratives from one genre to another, and updated plots from past generations to her own. Her particular skill was integrating daily life with current topics and addressing issues ranging from human dignity to Britain’s role in America. The popular press, as well as learned scholars, praised her for her genius, especially as it pertained to her “power of thought,” her “riches of the soul,” her “elegance of stile,” and for eyes that revealed her wit.6 In fact, one critic went so far as to say that she was “universally allow’d to be one of our first female Geniuses.”7 Samuel Johnson believed Lennox to be “superior” to all other female writers, and that she “writes as well as if she could do nothing else, and does everything else as well as if she could not write.”8 In this biography I demonstrate how Lennox’s was not only a startlingly astute but also a thoroughly independent mind: representative, exceptional, innovative, and illustrative all at once. I do this by taking her generically diverse and creative

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Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

works as centrepoints chronologically. Boasting of her “reputation for candour” and for being “a bold and daring schismatic,”9 Lennox unflinchingly claimed her talent for creating schisms, and her works bear the seeds of sharp social criticism. Her ability to dissent with style made her one of the “Nine Living Muses of Great Britain” and put her among Jane Austen’s favourite authors.10 Both of these tributes are permanent reminders of Lennox’s critical mark on England. The Results of an Independent Mind Into a society that was simultaneously constrained and being forced to change, Lennox offered a wide range of challenging works that were predominantly met with respect and admiration. Her success can be attributed to a combination of need, ambition, and intellect. Perhaps in part because of a prerequisite to earn an income, Lennox took risks and became a pioneer in an astonishing number of literary endeavours. She published two novels set in America that bookend her career and which are partly based on her experiences, provided in-depth analysis of Shakespeare’s use of source material, adapted her own novel into a play, made accessible in English a collection of Greek drama and the biographies of several important French women, wrote a novel for serial publication, and used the periodical form as a curriculum of substantial content, like zoology and geography, for women. She was also the first woman to receive funding from the Royal Literary Fund. Remarkably, Lennox maintained this professional literary life without a single attack on her personal reputation. Instead, she was celebrated far and wide. The combination of Lennox’s moment in history and her spirited personality were important to her success, but her ability to respond to a society with a growing interest in individual agency was also essential. Eighteenth-century authorship in Britain at mid-century was undergoing radical changes. Modes of literary publication and reception and methods for disseminating ideas were fundamentally shifting, and the notion of the public intellectual – that is, someone who eschewed status and strict political and religious allegiances and was committed to social transformation – was slowly emerging. Mass-produced periodicals, appearing in every coffeehouse in London, were becoming increasingly popular, while expanding production of printed literature coincided with a larger reading public. Ultimately citizens began to create a vision of a good society and then spoke truth to power in the hope of bringing that vision to life. By the time Lennox was publishing, Richardson’s Pamela and Clarissa had stirred heated debate about ideal femininity. As literacy swelled, authors had access to more diverse audiences. Although Samuel Johnson is often thought the orb around which all other literary figures revolved at mid-century, Lennox’s career, which was contemporaneous with Johnson’s, as they both found their footing as popular authors in the early 1750s,

Introduction

 7

also illustrates the interconnected literary, political, commercial, and sociocultural spheres that operated between the early-century publications of Aphra Behn, and Eliza Haywood and Samuel Richardson and those of late and turn-of-the-century authors like Mary Wollstonecraft, Jane Austen, and Sir Walter Scott. Lennox’s success can be attributed to her network and to her moment in history. However, it was her ability to write and to publish works at just the right time that made her famous. She took advantage of the notoriety of novelists like Samuel Richardson and Henry Fielding who had recently experienced blockbuster success with novels about the plights of young women. Richardson’s Pamela (1740) and Clarissa (1748) superbly trace interiority, and Fielding’s Tom Jones (1749) expertly employs the satiric and the picaresque. Lennox’s preference for Fielding and his for her is undeniable. Henrietta, the protagonist in Lennox’s third novel, reads Fielding’s first novel, the quixotic Joseph Andrews (1742), three times and calls it “one of the most exquisite pieces of humour in our language.” Fielding claimed that she “excelled Cervantes” with The Female Quixote.11 However, literary style was not enough. Richardson, as a successful printer, and Fielding, as a barrister and later a magistrate, had secure employment. Without a stable income, Lennox struggled with the vagaries of the marketplace. Like other budding writers in the 1750s, she experienced the tension between patronage and free agency, as authorship was becoming a trade in its own right rather than an appendage of the ideas of the wealthy and powerful. Her novels Henrietta (1758) and Eliza (1767) grapple with the injustices of systems in which the powerful controlled the lives of the less fortunate. In fact, Lennox’s novels proceed from a focus on a high-spirited single women subjected to significant parental influence (Harriot Stuart, 1750), to a strong-willed young woman with deceased parents (The Female Quixote, 1752), to a rebellious protagonist who goes to work to avoid marriage to the wrong partner (Henrietta, 1758), to more overtly submissive, but still wiser, protagonists who are more free to choose a partner and suffer the consequences (Sophia, 1760 and Eliza, 1767), and finally to an unhappily married protagonist who finds independence after marriage (Euphemia, 1790). Along with a growing number of female novelists, Lennox was keenly aware of the generative quality of literature and its ability to create new worlds in readers’ minds.12 Within these worlds, Lennox imagined a society as it could be by presenting a masterful interweaving of the expected … with provocative twists. The patterns in Lennox’s eighteen works might at first glance be thought restrained, especially in light of her predecessors who wrote more overtly about scandal and intrigue. Because of her moment in history, Lennox had to present more polite young women, yet these heroines – unlike many contemporaneous protagonists – were not victims.13 She did not write stories that fitted neatly into the category of sensibility but expertly employed satire to make her challenging ideas more palatable.

8 

Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

Her humorous heroine Arabella proves that “Truth is not always injured by Fiction.” Lennox’s belief in the power of fiction to reveal truth is illustrated in her novels through the high value placed on intelligent femininity. She rewrote the formulaic marriage fantasy with literary women as protagonists who refuse to idealize marriage and cleverly find ways to manoeuvre independently. In fact, many of her female characters are financially rewarded for their discerning minds, and all of her titles, even her translations, explore the possibilities of female selfhood – what a woman could be and do. Her fictional female characters have intelligence, wit, charm, and independent spirits; they do not readily accept the expectations of society, family, friends, or even the men they marry. For example, a character such as Henrietta, who rises and dresses quickly compared to the shallow Miss Cordwain, who takes five hours to dress, proved so appealing that she later became a recognizable “type” of female heroine in novels written by Lennox’s successors. Not only are her female characters more concerned with their own minds over their manners and in strategizing a happy life for themselves, they also cleverly avoid rape.14 That is, in nearly all of her novels Lennox highlights the genuine risk of sexual violence against women, as well as how women could use their intelligence to protect themselves. Lennox’s heroines reject false pride, and instead are early models of what genuine female pride might look like, and repeatedly show how the domestic sphere contains the seeds of revolution. These are plot devices that we still laud today as unusual and important. In her ability to represent active and engaged femininity, Lennox was especially appreciated by women readers and writers. Her contemporary Hester Thrale believed The Female Quixote to exceed Tom Jones and Joseph Andrews in narrative structure and “General Power of Thinking.”15 By the end of the century Clara Reeve and Anna Letitia Barbauld, who both argued for women’s place in literary history, insisted on Lennox’s importance. Reeve called Lennox “one of the distinguished female writers this age has produced among us.” And Barbauld argued that Lennox “performed a useful service to English literature.” She joined many others after Lennox’s death in praising her not only for her literary skills but also for maintaining her reputation as a “respectable writer.”16 Lennox’s reputation, however, has frequently been confined to her novel-writing skill. In fact, she was provocative and successful in her non-fiction work as well. Several times in her career, Lennox is associated with Clio, the muse of history. First, she invokes it herself in her early poetry, but later her literary admirers refer to her as the Goddess Clio. As a translator of the past, Lennox’s titles encourage the dual objectives of study: to make one “agreeable to oneself and serviceable to everyone around.”17 But study does more than please the student and make her more useful. Lennox’s titles also encourage readers to confront authority. In all of her works Lennox

Introduction

 9

advocates for women to be assertive and non-conventional, to value their minds over their appearance and “think seriously.” She was concerned that society would be full of women who were inaccurately called “fine ladies,” in which the business of their lives … is to dress, to play cards, to simper in the drawing room, to languish at the opera, and coquet at a play; whose eyes are perpetually dazzled by the glare of folly and impertinence, are too weak to bear the steady ray of reason: their minds therefore are always dark; and ignorance, like a thick cloud, wraps them up in impenetrable gloom.18

Lennox’s vision centred on her commitment to describing, feeding, and promoting the female mind as open to all kinds of learning and that “steady ray of reason,” which would result in lives she believed were more fully worth living. In each of her works Lennox demonstrates how what is “reasonable” might in fact be more complicated. Her Shakespear Illustrated presents research into Shakespeare’s source material and incisively analyses the influence of Italian, French, Latin, Danish, and English authors on nineteen of Shakespeare’s plays. This three-volume scholarly work challenged the bard’s growing status as a “genius” by demonstrating how he faltered in a crucial category – invention. Lennox had a deep commitment to the theatre. She had been an actress as a young woman and wrote three plays. As a theatre critic, she was committed to demystifying works held on such a high pedestal that they could not be approached by the common man. In The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy Lennox broke Greek drama free from only the most highly educated readers and made Greek texts accessible to a newly literate population. Her periodical, the Lady’s Museum, offered learned subjects like botany, history, astronomy, medicine, literary criticism, zoology, and theology to women readers who were expected to care more about how they presented themselves in society. Part of Lennox’s project was to indict the eighteenth-century double standard of valuing the same action or behaviour differently in women and men. For example, she pointed out that where a desire for fame or to please others may earn the statesman respect, it leaves women vulnerable to accusations of “coquetry.”19 And contrary to her period’s conventional belief, she explains that women are especially adapted to study historical facts objectively and appreciate natural history and philosophy.20 In turn she highlights the power of narrative in communicating history. Because of its mediating intervention, storytelling has the power to “turn a great man into entertaining fiction.” Thus “the interests of writers and readers finally decide which narratives become significant history.”21 Including women as central to explaining the world around them, Lennox imbues her readers with a sense of their own agency. Joan of Arc, Boadicea, Rowena, and Bianca Capello are important subjects in her curriculum, and thus

10 

Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

she affirms women’s place as actors in history. Women, she believed, were freer to be open – with a fuller range – to a “world of wonders.”22 Lennox’s translations also brought women’s stories to English readers. Finally, in her adaptation of the seventeenth-century play Eastward Ho, she deftly, even surreptitiously, inserts a robust strain of meritocracy while hinting at support for the American Revolution. Lennox should be remembered not only as a novelist but as a scholarly author as well. Prior to 1960, her titles with the longest life were Shakespear Illustrated and her translation of The Memoirs of the Duke of Sully. Today it is important to consider all of Lennox’s texts, which explore complex issues like power, truth, and identity and participate in epistemological debates that work to flesh out the intricacies of sovereignty, independence, and cultural worth. Lennox purposefully set herself in opposition to highly cherished social conventions. With her subtle but powerful style, she reminds readers that cultural practices are not monolithic and that, from one family, and one culture, to the next, the practices of asserting and reacting to social power will undoubtedly vary. Against the Odds Lennox’s prospects at the age of thirteen as an outsider alone in London seemed bleak. The idea that her writing might one day be read by the king and celebrated by successful authors was preposterous. Her professional class, since her father was a colonel in the military, meant that good fortune was essential to living a comfortable life. Yet, too often, luck was not on her family’s, and later on her, side. Financial circumstances were a constant source of vexation. Upon seeking treatment in London for a series of illnesses, which included a “violent inflammation of the eyes,” Lennox was advised by her doctor to travel to Bristol. We can imagine her scornful guffaw as she writes, “In my present circumstances … [a] journey to Bristol is as little in my power, as a journey to the moon!”23 She was supremely aware that the less privileged were too often misunderstood by those with advantages. As a commercial writer, Lennox kept her sights on what she needed and not on how others perceived her. However, the fact that she was motivated by money has been thought a mark against her, as it decreased the aura of the muse. “Grub Street Hack” has been a favourite phrase used to discredit writers who needed money, implying that they simply churned out banal content for indiscriminate readers. This description was especially damaging to women, who were judged by their ability to marry financially stable men, not for their skill at turning the complexities in their minds into marketable content. Lennox did not choose a man who earned a steady income; in fact, how often Alexander did earn a salary is unclear. Thus her career was not made in a tapestrylined room, or even in a quiet cottage, where she could write whenever the spirit

Introduction

 11

moved. Instead her choice of whom to marry was at least in part tied to her love of ideas, and perhaps also to her father’s Scottish heritage. She looked to share ideas (both in friendship and in print) with those who also appreciated her nuanced way of thinking. Thus, it is not surprising that she described study as “a feast for the whole day.” Upon reading a book she deemed scholarly she explained: “No luxurious Alderman ever sat down with a keener appetite to a Lord Mayor’s banquet, than I did to [this] rich repast.” Connecting feasting on knowledge, an intellectual satisfaction, with her drive to publish, she declared, “To say the truth, I am not without some little ambition.”24 This inner drive fuelled her to promote a love of study in her readers. Thus she spent her lifetime set on the task of improving “the knowledge of our sex, not by forcing them over the mountains, and wildernesses of science, but by leading them through the gardens, and groves; not by giving amusement the austere air of study but by rendering study an amusement.”25 Her words, inspiring and challenging as they were, had to support not only her material needs, but sometimes her husband, and eventually their daughter and son. Writing at her various makeshift desks at homes throughout London, walking through the dirty, bustling streets to deliver copy, or serving apple pie to Samuel Johnson while her son played at his feet – Lennox was animated by a relentless spirit and a driving curiosity. She was proud of the fact that she could set her “inhuman Criticks at defyance”26 and move on. As such, she could be described as candid or cantankerous; however, she saw herself more as the former. Perhaps centrally, Lennox’s gender dictated much of how she inhabited her world: simply being a woman meant a laundry list of limitations, and being candid had its drawbacks. In the 1740s the prevailing belief was that women’s duty was submission, and social ostracism the just deserts for those not accepting the norm. Since husbands had legal authority over their wives, most women had no financial rights, including over their own publications. The laws of coverture still shaped the majority of marriages, and a woman’s worth was evaluated by her conduct, rather than her knowledge or education. The polarity of “thinking man” and “feeling woman” was a routine trope that relegated women to the domestic world. Still, some invoked Descartes, who argued that women’s minds and souls were no different from men’s and that they should be taken seriously as rational and spiritual beings. Women’s education, though growing, still concentrated more on domestic tasks and performance skills, like dance, sewing, music, and a minimal knowledge of French. Yet concern for the way women were viewed and treated on a personal and national level manifested itself in numerous ways. As Lennox began to publish, efforts to aid “fallen women” were being initiated, and advice literature often associated women with national identity and values.27 Because of a long tradition of supressing women’s minds, Charlotte’s mother would have been taught that learning outside of the home was not simply

12 

Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

undesirable but detrimental to girls. In the sixteenth century, the “querelle des femmes,” the woman debate, was literary and philosophical and undertaken by learned men, primarily to address the question of whether women’s brains were capable of handling a male curriculum. These arguments also tended to have intensely or at least overtly religious framing. By the late seventeenth century, Mary Astell, Bathsua Makin, and Judith Drake had spoken up in print for their right to an education equal to a man’s.28 They focused on ends rather than means, making education their final objective. For instance, Astell’s A Serious Proposal to the Ladies (1694) argued for the founding of a private college where women could receive an advanced education. While Astell did not succeed in her goal to raise money for that college, she did manage to open up some charity schools for girls.29 On the whole, these women’s publications did not reach wide audiences, perhaps because they championed more radical approaches. Though they were successful in many ways, they were attacked in male publications for advocating for women. Not only was a woman’s knowledge thought to be problematic; even a woman’s imagination was considered threatening. Appearing around the same time as Lennox’s birth, publications such as “The Force of a Mother’s Imagination Upon Her Foetus In Utero”30 illustrated the belief that thinking about fictional scenarios could actually manifest in real life. Even the most voracious readers felt women would only gain censure by demonstrating their knowledge in a public way, that is through publication. In 1710 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu wrote, “There is hardly a character in the World more Despicable or more liable to universal ridicule than that of a Learned Woman. Them words imply, according to the receiv’d sense, a tatling, impertinent, vain, and Conceited Creature.”31 Though Montagu would later argue that unfair treatment of women was harmful to English society, she also admitted that this thinking was “Quixotism” and could not foresee any considerable success to her logic.32 George Lyttelton’s Advice to a Lady (1731) warned that wit is “too strong for feeble woman,” and urged that the female sex should “Seek to be Good, but aim not to be Great.” And Edward Moore’s Fables for the Female Sex (1744) cautioned women against coquetry, since in marriage they must be humble, “The tyrant mistress changed for life / To the submission of a Wife.” Lyttleton agreed, “Short is the Period of insulting Power … And soon the tyrant shall become the Slave.”33 At the end of the 1750s, the decade in which Lennox was the most prolific, John Gregory’s A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters advised women that if they happened to have any learning they should keep it a secret, especially from men.34 The injustice that Mary Astell identified in 1696 – women’s deficient education combined with expectations of flawless conduct – was still alive and well. Yet, even early in the century, philosophers like John Locke and his pupil Anthony Ashley Cooper, Third Earl of Shaftesbury, had opened a space for women to take a more

Introduction

 13

active role in society, and the fact that men recognized the problem was a productive first step. Just after Lennox published her first novel in 1750, Samuel Johnson pointed out the double standard in Rambler 18, often referred to as “Marriage (1)”: “the faculty of writing has been chiefly a masculine endowment, the reproach of making the world miserable has been always thrown upon women.”35 That is, since men have the advantage of an education that allows them to write, they can raise prejudices in their favour. Therefore, Johnson explains, “The customs of the world have been formed in a kind of conspiracy against [women].” Although Johnson and other men criticized the demeaning of women, giving them an equal place in society was only a fantasy. Women were still nearly entirely perceived, at best, as sovereign only in the domestic realm. The separation of public from private was partly the result of a belief in gendered complementariness, and thus expressed itself as a woman’s right to domesticity. Still, as the literacy rate increased and notions of individual flourishing seeped into the culture, constraining women did not seem a sustainable notion. At mid-century, Elizabeth Montagu, who married Lady Mary’s husband’s cousin, bemoaned the injustice: It is unhappy for our sex that their attention is generally placed on those things that they cannot improve: the roses & lilies of the complexion like those of the field bloom with care & cultivation; the blossoms of the mind want culture; if the soil be naturally barren without pains bestow’d on it, it will not produce anything; if luxurious, useless or pernicious weeds.36

Discounting these “blossoms of the mind” was not only a female concern. Around the same time, Samuel Richardson lamented the lack of opportunity for women not only to cultivate their intellects but also to share them with the wider world. It was as if he were calling forth Lennox’s talent when he wrote: “The Pen is, almost the only Means a very modest and diffident Lady (who in Company will not attempt to glare) has to show herself, and that she has a Mind.”37 In fact, a number of women writers were responding to these calls by turning to their pens. However, for many, the best solution was to couple writing with domesticity. Lennox too wrote about domestic matters, but she also engaged with the larger issues of her time and did not flinch when she was invoked in the public sphere. Lennox’s story is a reminder that in mid-eighteenth-century London an individual’s position in life did not necessarily dictate his or her destiny. Instead, a bold, fortunate, and independent spirit could surpass social expectations and forge an alternative path in a changing world. Her candour and self-assurance were important, but so was her ability to be diplomatic. And these qualities, combined with this moment in history, made her career possible. Just as Lennox

14 

Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

was influenced by her transatlantic childhood, England on a domestic level was being affected ideologically by its international engagement. As attitudes about gender and family relationships in England were incrementally shifting, so were the methods for educating children and the mindsets about class structure. A growing secular undercurrent and a burgeoning middle class coincided with the likelihood that many would receive a better education than their parents had. In fact, more girls were exposed to learning than ever before. No longer could individuals exclusively cling to gender and class roles. Concurrently, more value was being placed on individual rationality and liberty, consumer culture, and scientific inquiry. Citizens were questioning authority, and thus what had been recognized as reasonable – accepting religious and governmental power – was being challenged. In turn, it was becoming possible for the first time to make a living in the world of publishing. “The Middle-Class Woman Began to Write” Two hundred years after Lennox’s birth, Virginia Woolf would reflect on the years that included Lennox’s career.38 Woolf would muse that it was a “miracle” for an early woman author to overcome the shame associated with the “discreditable” employment of writing,39 emphasizing the fact that middle-class women were writing as a matter of “of greater importance than the Crusades or the Wars of the Roses.”40 Women were just beginning to imagine themselves as potential patriots and facilitators of social change. In fact, the middle of the century may have functioned as a kind of tipping point after which women were more able to publish. Progress had been made since the late seventeenth century, when early women writers, like Elizabeth Singer Rowe, Sarah Fyge Egerton, Mary Chudleigh, Anne Killigrew, and Katherine Philips, chose the slightly safer – that is, more established and less remunerative – genre of poetry.41 By the early eighteenth century, novelists such as Aphra Behn, Delarivier Manley, and Eliza Haywood boldly published their works but were maligned as loose women for submitting their works in the marketplace. Haywood’s career is the closest direct analogue to Charlotte Lennox’s. Both women wrote in a wide range of genres, and Haywood also became an extremely successful commercial author into the 1750s, when her career ended just as Lennox’s was beginning. As we have seen from mid-century, in an era that has been christened “The Age of the Emerging Female Author,” a subtle shift was underway that gave women slightly more agency.42 Harriet Guest has pointed out that slowly, throughout the century, women were acquiring more public influence, including in the realm of science. Yet as the century progressed, publishing freely would prove somewhat more difficult.43 In 1747 Samuel Richardson seemed to “call the woman writer

Introduction

 15

to come forward into the realm of moral and social debate” when he published Elizabeth Carter’s “Ode to Wisdom,” unfortunately without her permission.44 Intellectual women tended to follow one of two paths. Either they published and worried about how they would be judged, or they renounced publication entirely. Elizabeth Vesey, Frances Boscawen, and Elizabeth Montagu, early founders of the Bluestockings, had the luxury of doing more of the latter, as they were financially stable thanks to their husbands. Their dedication to the world of ideas primarily came in the form of supporting patronage, learning, and friendship. They “invented a new kind of informal sociability” that was interested in intellectual pursuits rather than cards and dancing. For them, “conversation was an agent of reform.”45 Montagu, her sister Sarah Scott, and other “Blues” advocated “a stoic acceptance of a virtuous life apart from the world of ambition and politics,” maintained a friendly joke about “a social difference between the wealthy upper-class and shabby genteel gentleman friends,” and “ridicule[d] the supposed pretensions of intellectual women.”46 Lennox was outside traditional Bluestocking sociability, which likely made it easier to establish her own path. She responded to this context of constrained female literary culture by becoming an activist through publication. Cosmopolitan, tough-minded, and respectable, she charted a new path of professional authorship. As a working writer she did not have the luxury of, nor the interest in, fostering friendship in the polite social ways of many of her contemporaries. She spent her time writing to deadlines and corresponding with publishers and literary patrons. However, she also socialized in the homes of many of these contacts over meals with each other’s children, and in the end many of these acquaintances turned into good friends. Lennox was not the only woman at mid-century who was able to publish while still maintaining her reputation. However, other women insisted – perhaps because they felt it necessary to perform humility – that they did not want to put their words into the public sphere. Anonymity was a relatively common feature of eighteenth-century print culture: Sarah Scott (publishing between 1750 and 1772) did not put her name on any of her works and only a pseudonym on her translations. She was so hesitant about appearing too ambitious that her own father did not know she published. Scott denigrated the idea of middle-class writers offering their ideas in print. “Those who become Authors for the sake of profit can never produce what even their talents might afford, since their aim will make them hurry to an end, therefore it belongs to those who are rich in purse and parts to shew that there are Genius’s as well as Writers in the Nation.”47 Frances Bur­ ney, who was decidedly not “rich in purse,” began publishing in 1778 and went on to have a distinguished writing career at the end of the century. Like Scott, she began publishing in secret so that her father did not discover her authorship.48

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Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

Lennox’s exact contemporary Clara Reeve, although the same age as Lennox, waited twenty-two years after Lennox’s first publication before releasing her words to print, and then she was only known as “C.R.”49 Despite these limitations, women writers explored the effects of gender inequality within their society and were centrally concerned with female self-control; their texts offered compensation for their lack of political authority.50 Though family pressure deterred some writers, like Burney, others were encouraged by their kin to write. Frances Brooke and Sarah Fielding were most similar to Lennox in their ambition. Brooke, who was also orphaned in childhood, spent time in America and published a similar number of titles (between 1755 and 1800) in a wide range of genres. Although she was five or six years older than Lennox, she did not begin publishing novels until 1763. She also differed from Lennox in that she was wellbred and had an excellent education from her mother, and was financially supported first by her husband and later by her son. Perhaps the author most similar to Lennox was Sarah Fielding, who was most comfortable with publishing and did so at mid-century alongside Lennox. She also published in a similarly wide variety of genres. Between 1744 and 1762, Fielding published eight novels, an experimental kind of literary criticism, Remarks on Clarissa, and a translation from French. However, Fielding differed in that she and her brother Henry held a more privileged rank in society than Lennox did, and Sarah received a more formal education and the support of her successful author brother.51 All of these women were older than Lennox when they first entered the world of publishing. Lennox’s unattached youth (socially and familially) was in fact her ally. In her early, unwavering, and lonely pursuit of a literary career, Lennox was indeed the “miracle” Woolf described. Lennox Studies Lennox entered my life when I was twenty-five, after I had lived for three years in Madrid. As I started graduate school, I was drawn to English authors who had been influenced by Spanish writers. When I discovered a relatively unknown female author with transatlantic experience who had written The Female Quixote, a retelling of Cervantes’ literary adventure through the life of an isolated young English woman, I was captivated. Not only was I impressed by Lennox’s skill at exploring gender, but I also found her ability to use humour for higher purposes remarkable. In comically recrafting a familiar plot, she raised crucial questions about the place of “truth” in controlling society. When I learned that she published prolifically throughout much of her life, I could not resist the pull of her clever writing and her fascinating life. Lennox was an early female comedian, skilled in the nuances of satire that inspire social change.

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 17

I also discovered that Lennox’s life proves that success and stability do not always come hand in hand. Not surprisingly, this disparity has led to some of the difficulty in interpreting her career. Lennox was fully attuned to the subjective and powerful nature of storytelling. The feisty protagonist, Arabella, in The Female Quixote warns her faithful servant Lucy, who has been charged with relaying Arabella’s “history,” that telling another person’s story is highly subjective. Lennox was wisely cautious when revealing details about herself.52 This reserve proved essential to her fame. While she was still alive, the first narration of her life appeared. In 1783 the British Magazine and Review, which ran her material as well as titles signed by her son, George Louis, printed a two-thousand-word biography that began with a caveat about Lennox’s insistence on privacy. Although more details about her personal life were “greedily sought after” by readers, this magazine worked hard to offer “genuine and satisfactory” information.53 “Memoirs” outlines Lennox’s early talents and increasing success, concluding by calling her “sprightly, humorous, satirical, and [a] sensible writer; whose novelty and genius as an original author, and whose elegance and fidelity as a translator, have not often been exceeded.” This narrative was republished in the Edinburgh Weekly and the Whitehall Evening Post, and I consider this biography the most reliable guide to Lennox’s life and career.54 Eight years later, Boswell’s Life of Johnson55 made Lennox a further celebrity because of her friendship with Samuel Johnson. The 1792 Royal Literary Fund records detail Lennox’s circumstances at the end of her life. Still in 1798 biographical entries were proclaiming her “considerable genius” and the fact that she had “long been distinguished for her literary merit.”56 After her death, an 1804 obituary in the Gentleman’s Magazine presented her full life, and John Nichols’s Literary Anecdotes of 1812 continued the narrative that would prevail through the nineteenth century and into the twentieth. However, a concentrated recovery effort did not begin until the London poet and critic Austin Dobson revived interest in Lennox eighty years later in 1892.57 This current biography, the first to consider Lennox’s entire oeuvre and all her extant correspondence, would not have been possible without generations of scholars arguing for a reconsideration of the standard literary canon; that is, what texts and what authors are deemed worthy of study. Miriam Small’s Charlotte Ramsay Lennox (Archon, 1935, Yale 1969), Gustavus Maynadier’s Charlotte Lennox, The First American Novelist (Harvard, 1949), and Phillip Séjourné’s The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox (Faculté Provence, 1967) did extremely important early work to recover Lennox’s place in literary history. Small listed and described all of Lennox’s titles, as well as traced copious reviews of her work; Maynadier and Séjourné presented the first research that helped us understand Lennox’s experience in America. Still, none of Lennox’s texts were available in modern editions until 1970, when Oxford World’s Classics produced an edition of her 1752

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Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind

bestseller, The Female Quixote. Interest in Lennox studies was even more enthusiastically ignited with a remarkable discovery in a safe deposit in a Dunfermline (Fife) branch of a Scottish bank in 1964. An anonymous benefactor had paid to secure forty-five letters and five miscellaneous items that related to her life and career for a span of over 160 years.58 This cache of Lennox’s correspondence has meant a much fuller understanding of her life and works, and thus a clearer picture of the circumstances of her career. Lennox studies were fully launched when the Scottish scholar Duncan Isles meticulously edited these documents for the Harvard Library Bulletin in 1970–2. Recently a larger collection of letters and materials, Norbert Schürer’s Charlotte Lennox: Correspondence and Miscellaneous Documents, has significantly advanced Lennox studies. Lennox’s moment has arrived. Today, she is solidly in the canon; that is, no one calls her “minor” anymore. The Female Quixote is widely taught, and a number of Lennox’s titles are now easily available.59 Still, there are two main challenges in writing the biography of Charlotte Lennox. For one, she defies many commonly held beliefs about eighteenth-century women writers; for another, very little biographical information on her is available. To the first point, Lennox’s life still urges a rethinking of the paradigms we have used to study eighteenth-century British authors. She was not a scandalous female author, a constrained woman, a religious devotee, or a country isolate. Nor was she a revolutionary. In fact, it could be argued that Lennox has been overlooked because she did not fit the critical tropes for eighteenth-century women writers. Her life, as all lives ultimately are, is difficult to categorize. She was not overtly proto-feminist, making bald claims about the injustice of gender dynamics. However, she constantly worked for these ideals – albeit quietly. It is easy to be caught between the Scylla of bluestocking feminism and the Charybdis of our current definitions of feminism (whether twentieth or twenty-first century), as we try to situate women writers; but Lennox challenged both definitions. What if a woman writer puts a priority on publication before female friendship? What if she advocates for female education, but in the process cordons off women’s education as distinct from men’s? For her ability to challenge without appearing to be revolutionary, Lennox was critically successful with her contemporaries. Unfortunately, this literary acclaim did not translate into a life free of financial worries. The second major reason Lennox is difficult to study is because she was not born into means and never managed to acquire them – and for those reasons left limited material traces for her biographers. She arrived in London without secure lodging, often struggled to make ends meet, and died in poverty. Most of her papers and belongings were lost in a long life moving around London avoiding creditors. Luckily, some of her papers did survive. These letters to and from Lennox form one of three types of sources for this biography. They give occasional

Introduction

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insight into her life choices and circumstances as well as her relationships with family, friends, and colleagues. In addition, many contemporaries commented on Lennox in published and unpublished correspondences, which are the second type of source. Finally, while I have taken great care not to stretch facts beyond what can be proven, Lennox’s own works often explore her biographical circumstances and negotiate her literary, political, and philosophical views and serve to provide a window into her mind. Aside from scholarship on The Female Quixote, little literary study has been done on Lennox’s large oeuvre. I hope this biography with its focus on the patterns and complexities of Lennox’s challenging, fascinating, and understudied works will serve as a starting point in the study of her writing through more finely calibrated lenses. A large percentage of her titles were translated into eight different languages, distributed in ten countries by 1850, anthologized, referenced, and had direct influences on many authors, including Samuel Johnson, Frances Burney, Jane Austen, and Sir Walter Scott. No author escapes silently inserting bits of herself into her writing. In fact, Lennox indicated her own belief that authors do indeed leave traces of their own biographies in their writing, both in their prose and in their criticism. Trying to bring coherence to eighteen works and seventy-four years, many of which are undocumented, might be a fool’s errand, and doubtless every individual life could be told through a myriad of perspectives. However, I hope that Charlotte Lennox: An Independent Mind will satisfy a multitude of curiosities about Lennox’s works and her life. Still, it will not tell us what she intended to tell her readers. Even if we could teleport her into the early twenty-first century, she would not be able to articulate her intentions to our satisfaction. Instead, I hope that having a fuller picture of what it might have been like to be Charlotte Lennox will serve as a floodlight, drawing attention to the lesser-studied aspects of eighteenth-century London society. It is also my hope that this study will not only shed much-needed light on the nuances of history but also additionally animate future study of Lennox and other authors of her time. Lennox’s success was dependant on her literary sophistication, which allowed her to work within a culture that placed a high value on propriety. Yet her mind was not bound by those social constructs. Even when she could not be as forthright in her writing as she might have wished, she was habitually faithful to a daring course of life. Charlotte Lennox is a model for any individual, but especially for those like herself – creative people who are marginalized and who still work to enact real social change.

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THE AMERICAN

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Chapter One

New World Thinking Ages 0–13 Before 1742

I stood some moments contemplating [New York] with great pleasure. (Harriot Stuart, 81)

Sometime between 9 March 1729 and 11 March 1730, Charlotte Ramsay drew her first breath at the British fortress of Gibraltar.1 Her early life would instil in her a perspective and fortitude that would serve her well in adulthood. Just a few years after her birth, the British would officially take this land for their own.2 However, when Charlotte was born, they were still unsure of their position as successful conquerors, and the little isthmus, a pawn on the international chessboard, was in a defensive posture. The modest rock was an essential asset to the plundering and importing of the day, and Charlotte’s father, James, a captain lieutenant, had commanded a siege of Gibraltar.3 That is, Charlotte was born both literally and metaphorically into the heart of British imperialism. Life for the Ramsay family must have been difficult, since supplies were limited: in 1728, two years before Charlotte’s birth, Spain cut off both communications and supplies to Gibraltar and did not re-establish aid until 1730.4 For Charlotte’s mother, Catherine, who had left two children, James Jr and Eleanor, back in England and had lost two infants since moving to Gibraltar, the rough conditions of the outpost challenged all of her faculties. The fortress was a dissolute and brutal garrison, where soldiers were sent who had few family connections back in England. Since James was assigned this post, we can speculate that his familial status was likely damaged, perhaps through a loss of family money. Three thousand one hundred British soldiers inhabited Gibraltar, along with a civilian population of less than eight hundred, the majority of whom were Genoese, Moors, and Jews.5 Although safety was not an issue, living conditions were challenging. A visitor to Gibraltar at this time wrote, “the Houses are so very bad and the poor Troops so ill

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accommodated, that I could wish for their Sakes that some of them were removed to Port Mahon,” Menorca, which had recently been captured by the British.6 Charlotte lived in Gibraltar for less than a year; in 1731 her father’s regiment was downsized, and the Ramsay family returned to England, where James held a post as a lieutenant in the guards. Charlotte’s childhood, between the ages of about one and ten, would be spent in England. However, it is unclear whether her family’s living conditions significantly improved. Although James was a key officer in Gibraltar, he served at the whim of the political climate. Later he moved up the ranks to become a colonel and command a company. However, as a lieutenant he was not adequately paid to “make a proper provision for his children”; that is, to maintain the standards expected of an officer in England.7 James Ramsay, a descendant of the ancient and noble house of Dalhousie in Scotland, diverged from his long lineage to venture far away from his homeland and make a life for himself among unknown others.8 His Irish mother’s maiden name was Lumley, and she was a descendant of the well-known Scarborough family. His father, who died young, had been somewhat adventurous, holding “a very honorable” post “command[ing] a troup of horse” in Ireland. James was born into these respected circles sometime before 1687. The youngest of three boys, he followed his two older brothers, who also vowed to serve King George I. Their names are not known; however, his eldest brother was chaplain general and judge advocate of the Fleet during King William’s reign, and his middle brother was captain of a man of war. The fact that, as a Scot, James Ramsay joined the English army might have meant that he was a supporter of the Act of Union, that is, that he was anti-Catholic/pro-Protestant and anti-French/pro-Hanoverian. Or it could have simply been a strategic move to earn a better income. To join the British army he would have had to be Protestant, either Presbyterian as established by the Act of Scotland, or Anglican.9 As a young man, he purchased the post of ensign, as well as his uniform and other necessary equipment, much as purchasing a medical practice works today. At this time commissions usually cost four hundred pounds, which would be a current income of sixty thousand pounds or ninety thousand dollars.10 A commission was the kind of investment that could be sold at retirement, sometimes at a higher price.11 Even with nonEnglish roots, James found himself dedicating his life not simply to England but also to its imperialist endeavours abroad. He held many military positions throughout his career, from ensign to colonel. Friends described him as a “truly good,” “beloved and revered” man who was also a “brave soldier, sincere Christian, and true Gentleman.”12 Possibly through family members, James met Catherine Tisdale, who was from a distinguished Irish family. Her brother, William, was the Reverend Dr Tisdale of

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Ireland,13 a companion of Jonathan Swift, who often expressed “much respect and kindness”14 for William. In fact, Catherine’s brother was known to have proposed the poem “Stella” to Swift, suggesting a literary inclination that Charlotte inherited from her uncle. Although James and Catherine were of gentle birth and had strong connections in their native countries, their union would take them far away from their homelands. One can only guess at Charlotte’s experiences living in England as the child of an Irish mother and a Scottish/Irish father. In England, an Irish or Scottish accent evoked ideas of “‘rudeness’ and provincialism.” Anti-Scottish satire was popular at the beginning of the century, as was criticism of Scottish opportunism. Those without pure English ancestry “were caught between the stereotypes of backwardness and of crass ambition.”15 Although they lived for about nine years as a family in England, the Ramsays would not settle there. It was fortunate that in 1738 the Duke of Newcastle promoted James to be the captain of one of the four Independent Companies of Invalids stationed at New York, although he was fifty-four.16 For Charlotte’s father this meant a post in New England at the fort of Albany, north of the bigger city of New York. Newcastle was chiefly responsible for colonial affairs at this time, and “colonial positions were so little valued that the duke sometimes had to seek out candidates and prod people to apply.”17 In order to tempt officers to go abroad, Newcastle had to offer perks. For James, a post in the New World meant advancement, a better income, and status.18 Albany was the second most populated city, and thus he was second in command to the governor of New York.19 This new post gave James the hope that he would soon be able to provide properly for his wife and children. However, his family may have imagined that their move to the New World would mean a far less desirable life. It would have been understandable if Charlotte, then about ten years old, felt some degree of trepidation at the prospect of leaving behind a familiar country to live in an unknown land.20 At that time little had been published in England about life in North America, and a young girl might have wondered if she would be able to recreate beloved aspects of her familiar English world. The Ramsay family’s time in the North American colonies radically altered all five of their lives in ways that they never could have predicted. Charlotte grew up to use North America as the setting for her first and last novels, Harriot Stuart (1750) and Euphemia (1790), published when she was twenty-one and sixty-one respectively. In both of these narratives, characters are dramatically affected by a new landscape and diverse cultures. Charlotte gives her readers a sense of what it would have been like to face the prospect of actually living in the wilds of America, as well as a sense of what it might have been like to lay eyes on this country for the first time. Euphemia, a character Charlotte constructed near the

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end of her life, remembers her relatives’ anguish as she sets off to cross the Atlantic. Before her arrival, Euphemia, the wife of an officer, imagines that being forced to live in the small settlement of Albany, New York, is a terrible “banishment.” In contrast, Harriot, a character Charlotte constructed as a teenager soon after she had returned to England, recounts the sentimental aspects of the journey. Friends close to Charlotte, in fact, believed the narrative to be “her own history.”21 Perhaps the Ramsays felt like Harriot, who after the extremely long sea voyage pans across the horizon and sees land. She describes this vision of New York, the first documented image of its skyline, as a “delightful appearance” and explains how “we were saluted by all the ships in the harbour, who had their flags and streamers out; and the mayor with the principal persons of the city, waited our landing, and conducted us to the fort.”22 The range of emotions – from fear to excitement – that the family must have experienced when setting sail in England and landing at the New York harbour would have been overwhelming. A New World Formation Around the end of 1738, Charlotte’s family arrived in New York23 and soon floated 150 miles up the Hudson in a small boat to Albany, a town inhabited primarily by the Dutch and surrounded by a wooden barrier, made of large hewn pine logs.24 While New York was primarily British, in the city of Albany (with a population reaching around three thousand) only 20 per cent of heads of households were of English descent.25 Twenty years before the Ramsays arrived, a traveller to the town had described it as a small, enclosed community: State Street … was occupied by the Dutch church at the foot, a market house below Pearl street, the English church above Pearl, and on a line with the upper side of Lodge street, the battlements of Fort Frederick stood upon a lofty eminence overlooking the city, and stretching nearly across the street, the road to Schenectady winding around its southern angles … Within these narrow limits there was a population of about 3,000 and a garrison of 300 more.26

In this description, the English military presence is striking. Ten per cent of the population were British soldiers, and their fort was a significant presence in the city. The growth of the colony between 1717 and 1731 at least doubled its population. By 1731 the entire area of New York had a population of fifty thousand: eight thousand people lived in New York (fifteen hundred of whom were black), while Albany’s population was similar.27 It is unclear if the Ramsays lived in the towering Fort Frederick, which was probably rebuilt just before Charlotte arrived in Albany in 1738 and therefore

Figure 6 “An Accurate Map of North America, Drawn from the best Modern Maps and Charts,” by Eman Bown, 1747. Western University, London, Ontario.

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would have significantly elevated their status. In Charlotte’s novel Euphemia, the eponymous protagonist and her husband opt to live in a “neat and convenien[t]” house in the town, and she is not particularly pleased with its general appearance. Euphemia explains that “this town is worse built than New-York; few of the houses have an elegant appearance on the out-side,”28 while she complains of the “excessive neatness” of the Dutch houses.29 Harriot for her part describes the gardens, which were at some distance from the walls, and the house, as being “very fine … where the commanding officer always resided,” and she explains that there is room enough for the governor’s son to live there. Euphemia describes the fort in even more detail: This is a regular fortification situated upon a steep hill, which overlooks the town, and has within it a large and elegant house for the commander, and convenient barracks for the soldiers, with a guard-room, and a handsome apartment for the lieutenant upon duty.30

Charlotte was clearly familiar with the size of this fort, calculating that it could hold several families. In his 1744 description of the North American colonies, the Scottish Dr Alexander Hamilton mirrors Charlotte’s description.31 In eighteenth-century Albany, conflicts existed even within the British contingent. Although the town itself was not unsafe, George Clinton, colonial governor of New York from 1743 to 1753, explained that “nobody comes to this place without the most pressing necessity,”32 and James Ramsay’s arrival in Albany may not have been met with warm greetings from many of the soldiers at the outpost. To appoint Ramsay, Governor Clarke had passed over Andrew Nicholl, who had served in the area as lieutenant of a company that had been commanded by the late governor. Nicholl had applied for the captain’s position and been overlooked when Ramsay’s predecessor, Captain William Dick, was appointed instead. Clarke then chose Ramsay, the outsider, and served as his superior until 1740.33 Needless to say for the newcomer Ramsay, who had superseded the loyal Nicholl, anxiety at least at the beginning was high.34 From her novels, we can see that residing in North America was a tremendously formative experience for the preteen Charlotte. There is no doubt that she drew from her personal experiences in her writing,35 as the military careers of her characters Colonel Stuart in Harriot Stuart and Colonel Bellenden in Euphemia seem very similar to her father’s. Charlotte explains rather vaguely that Colonel Stuart probably joined the army and bought a commission when he was fairly young, and that he did so some time before his marriage. We know more about Bellenden: when he arrives at New York, he is already an elderly man, perhaps as Charlotte might have perceived her own father. Bellenden, also like her father, is not a man

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of letters, “having been a soldier from the age of fourteen,”36 and is disliked by his lieutenant, Blood. This antagonism, especially felt by those already living in New England, is no doubt inspired by Bellenden’s being one of those newcomers who had obtained their highly sought after posts in London, rather than working their way up the ranks in the colonies. Blood is looking forward to Bellenden’s death so that he can succeed him. James Ramsay had no American experience, and he may have felt discontent in Albany. It would not be surprising if incidents of jealousy and tension in the British military transpired before Charlotte’s young eyes. Yet Charlotte was proud of her kind and courageous father. He may have taken these conflicts in stride, as her admiration for him remained strong even in her adulthood. She described him in her periodical the Lady’s Museum (1760–1) as “a gentleman, remarkable only in this, that during the course of a pretty long life, he never lost a friend or made an enemy.”37 Séjourné claims that Ramsay was probably one of the few officers who did not abuse his position by engaging in commerce with the Native Americans, since his name is not included in the account books of the merchants of Schenectady, Albany, or New York between 1730 and 1745. However, the names of many of Ramsay’s peers who held positions of authority at the time – for example, Butler, Lindsay, Clarke, and Rutherford – are listed. It was common for these men to trade rum in exchange for the Natives’ furs. Several also “dealt in land,” but Ramsay’s name never appears in the New York Calendar of Indorsed Land Papers.38 This lack of participation in commerce suggests a certain value system: he clearly had hopes of earning a good income for his family, and it is certainly possible that he engaged in some kind of trade that supplemented his earnings. During this time, in addition to his responsibility for Albany, Charlotte’s father was also in charge of the fort at Schenectady, and of Fort Hunter, which was set away from Schenectady in Mohawk country and constructed by Governor Hunter to preserve the alliance of the Five Nations.39 Whether James Ramsay stayed in Schenectady alone or with his family is not clear from the records.40 However, Charlotte must have spent at least some time in this village, which had a smaller population than Albany, since both Harriot and Euphemia also describe going there. Charlotte’s writing shows how intrigued she was by the landscape of North America and the diversity of its people. She concentrated her plots on Albany, Schenectady, and Fort Hunter, and provided descriptions of Native Americans (primarily Mohawks and Hurons), Africans, African Americans, and the Dutch who lived in Albany County. In fact, Charlotte not only makes parallels with her own life, but many of the events in Harriot Stuart did actually occur, and her depictions were in many cases accurate. For example, Lieutenant-Governor George Clarke was represented in her Governer Belmein. And the lieutenant-governer’s children have counterparts

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in the novel. His eldest daughter is likely Mrs B., who in the novel is Dumont’s lover before he meets Harriot. She later marries one of the richest landowners in Jamaica. Another of the lieutenant-governor’s children is represented in Captain Belmein, Harriot’s favoured suitor during her stay at Albany.41 Charlotte’s descriptions of specific sites, like the halfway house, the fort at Albany, and specific people, including the Native Americans who populated this region, demonstrate her personal knowledge of America.42 Harriot’s comments about Native American customs show her, over the course of three years, trying to objectively observe the communities around her. Even though she is at first frightened by these “savages,” whom “she could not look at without trembling,” her innocent reaction does not prevent her from describing the chiefs. She explains that they “paid me a great many honours; and when we departed, loaded me with presents of toys and trinkets of their own making; for they are extremely ingenious, and fond of learning the European arts.”43 She also carefully measures their homes – “a square of ten feet will serve to contain a very large family” – and relates the way they manage the summer heat by hanging boughs “to keep out the sun.” She notes the British curiosity towards the Native Americans, describing those that “come from N[ew York],” who would approach them and “walk among their hutts.” Harriot portrays Native Americans building their camp and the traditional “long houses” of the Iroquois. She depicts them carrying “materials for building their houses, which consist of the bark of trees, two or three wooden poles, with some bear skins to lye on.” She also “saw in astonishment, a new sort of city raised in the compass of a few hours.”44 In addition, Charlotte details a treaty of friendship with the Five Indian Nations that the governor had arranged, which did take place in August of that same year.45 Her accuracy concerning these specific details indicates a deep interest in America that extended through her life. Not only was Charlotte interested in the diversity of people, she was also curious about the sort of hierarchy that this community acknowledged. At the young age of ten, she would have been exposed to unfavourable descriptions of the majority population, the Dutch, whom she would have encountered in Albany and Schenectady. Though sharing European ancestry, they were apparently as foreign to her as the Native Americans. However, many of the English did not speak approvingly of their neighbours.46 Travellers claimed the Dutch had a low level of education, calling them “boors grossly ignorant and rude.”47 Governor Clinton explained that “the doctors in Albany are mostly Dutch, all empirics, having no knowledge of learning.”48 The Mohawks were a constant presence as well, and they had a long history of trading within the region. These experiences of witnessing prejudice first-hand had a deep impact on Charlotte. The Dutch do not appear in her first novel, Harriot Stuart, perhaps because she was not ready to engage with her confused feelings about

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them. Instead, she waited until the end of her life in her novel Euphemia to treat the Dutch-British relationship, while also addressing imperialism in broader ways. Upon meeting the best Dutch families, the prejudiced Mrs Bellenden, wife to Colonel Bellenden, in the novel calls them “so strange, so uncouth, so rudely familiar” that she is “not surprised at the disgust they create.” And when Mrs Bellenden speaks to them they would only “stare and [be] confounded” and “either do not answer at all, or in a manner so rude and strange, that [the colonel’s wife] blushes [and] is confused, and silent.”49 Mrs Bellenden is critical of their behaviour and describes “the boorish manners of the men and the awkward ignorance of the women.”50 Her daughters are “so much disgusted that they … contrived to keep [the Dutch] out of the assembly.”51 However, since these characters are portrayed as ignoble in Lennox’s novel, their perception of the Dutch cannot be taken at face value. As a matter of fact, Lennox here challenges the dominant portrayals of Dutch in English travel writing and instead criticizes those who embrace national stereotyping as narrow-minded. Euphemia also more generally includes characters who reject or refute quick assumptions. The open-hearted Mrs Granger, whom Euphemia considers a close friend, is Dutch in origin and seems more independent and generous than most of her female characters.52 In addition, the eminently wise Mrs Benson, a model of curiosity and acceptance, has learned Dutch and is aware of the power of narrative to teach and combat injustice. As a result of these admired qualities, Mrs Benson is able to negotiate several uncomfortable cross-cultural moments.53 Not only did Charlotte learn about cross-cultural difference, but these years in North America deeply formed and amplified her opinions about expectations of women and their intellectual potential. From this young age she loved reading and writing. A fellow writer later commented on her childhood flair with a pen: “Charlotte Lenox the Novel Writer began to compose in Poetry so early, that She wrote the Word Zephyr with an S – Because She had not yet learn’d to make a Z.”54 Having begun to write so young, she developed the critical view of society that she would exercise for the rest of her life. In both of her American novels, she describes the remote Albany and the lively social scene in New York. Although New Yorkers give the Stuarts and the Bellendens a warm welcome, neither Harriot nor Euphemia is taken in by their “professions of friendship.”55 Charlotte’s protagonists are critical of the superficial ways of New York society, such as their passion for stylish clothing. Their accounts are similar to those of the traveller William Smith, who explains, “[t]hrough our intercourse with the Europeans we follow the London fashions. Though by the time we adopt them, they become disused in Europe.”56 Lennox’s heroines scorn vanity in favour of the life of the mind, which includes strong personal relationships. Even though Harriot calls herself a coquette, she does not approve of New York manners, calling the city the

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“seat of love and gallantry.” She does not see herself as the epitome of virtue, but rather aims “at inspiring a delicate and respectful passion.” Thus, Harriot hopes to reform the manners of New York citizens by using her skill as a writer to compose “several little pieces … to correct this false taste.”57 While in America, Charlotte became a skilful observer of its manners and customs. She was interested in writing poetry, in languages, and in reading books, activities that may have estranged her from the bustling social life of New York. However, she did not isolate herself. Her poems “Envy” and “To Sappho” not only show her intimacy with the capital’s fashionable circles but also illuminate New York’s tendency towards social discord.58 Written before she was seventeen years old, “Envy. A Satire”59 is angrier and more straightforward and concise than any of her other poems, and it offers a spiteful description of the social atmosphere of the town of New York. In Y – k’s detested Isle, that Foe to Fame That Bane of Glory, and a virtuous Name; Pale Envy dwells, and ev’ry Breast inspires, With mortal Hatred, and destructive Fires.

The destructive allegorical figures of Envy and Scandal are brought to life, and Charlotte describes the crowd of people who, because of these caustic qualities, cannot shine by virtue, wit, or beauty. Amidst this scene arises the theme of ruined reputations. … Fly, ye virtuous Few Fly e’er her cruel Arts your Fame pursue; See Justice from the foul Infection flies, And frighted hence reseeks her native Skies. Far from the guilty Scene averts her Sight, Her own Philander can’t retard her Flight; Tho’ her bright Image, in his Breast he bears, And all her Beauties in his Form appears; Tho’ in his Soul she lights her heav’nly Flame, And finds even here a Votary in him.

Charlotte details the dangers, which might include the temptations of fancy clothing, gossip, and aspirations to improve one’s rank. Given these self-absorbed behaviours, she imagines a better place to grow up. Justice, portrayed as a female, flees from this scene of corruption; out of fear, she naively “reseeks her native Skies,” where she might be safe from a ruined reputation. This poem is sensitive

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to the perils of growing up as a young woman in New York society. It also shows Charlotte’s propensity to criticize the society in which she lived. This quality would not always win her friends. Charlotte did not possess a natural tendency to be agreeable, and this likely caused her great difficulty throughout her life, beginning with her problematic relationship with her own mother. Catherine Ramsay was Charlotte’s first model of womanhood. To others, Catherine was known as “a most affectionate wife”:60 she had followed her husband to Gibraltar, back to England, and then to America. She was also, of course, subjected to the complicated Albany political scene, in which her husband was at least for a time a disliked, over-promoted outsider, and was forced to deal with it gracefully. If Euphemia’s reaction gives an indication of Charlotte’s mother’s feelings about living in America, it was not the life she had hoped for. Still, her husband’s post, in some ways, must have relieved her. Now she could hope that her children might have a more financially stable life. Charlotte for her part saw her own childhood as useful in making her tougher. She later explained that her mother, “a well-bred woman and an excellent economist,” was treated with too much delicacy as a child: In her youth she was extremely indulged by her parents, who, on account of a slight disorder in her eyes, would not suffer her to use her needle, or look into a book, except on Sundays or holidays when she was permitted to read two or three verses of a chapter in the Bible.61

The result of this over-protection was that her mother did not value books and learning, the centre of Charlotte’s life. It was this disregard for Charlotte’s passion that drove a wedge between them. My mother grew up, not only without any taste, but with a high contempt for reading; and those of her female acquaintance who had made any proficiency that way were sure to be distinguished by her, with the opprobrious term of being book-learned, which my mother always pronounced with a look and accent of ineffable scorn.

Charlotte’s frustrations with her mother were not just limited to her mother’s disdain for learning. They likely stemmed from Catherine’s demonstrable affection for Charlotte’s sister, Eleanor. In the Lady’s Museum, Charlotte wrote about being “wholly neglected” by her mother. With her serious turn of mind, she saw their mother/daughter relationship through an anecdote in Aesop’s Fables, a volume that came from a large number of books belonging to her older brother, James Jr. Selecting this book to describe her pain, she compared her own circumstances with a particularly disturbing story. The tragic fable centres on an

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ape mother who in a sudden fright protects only her beloved child. However, by accident she falls and “beats out her favourite’s brain upon a stone,” while the unfavoured child, who has jumped on her back, is uninjured.62 Charlotte gave this story to her mother and expected that she would be moved by it. Sadly, trying to communicate through this story did not work with a mother who had no interest in the power of narrative: her mother was unaffected by the story and remained more concerned with the daily workings of the household. Whether Charlotte was born with impatience or acquired it through life experiences is unclear. However, this episode accentuates her rage at her mother’s favouritism and her hope that narrative would reform her. Even at a young age, Charlotte believed in the power of fiction. Much later in life, her novel Sophia63 described a similar scenario in which the literary protagonist is the less favoured daughter and thus is constantly criticized. Eventually Sophia convinces her mother that it is best if she leaves home to stay with a distant relative in another town. Like Sophia, all of Charlotte’s novels depict young women distanced from their relatives and thus forced to craft a more independent life. Charlotte’s need to write, which offered comfort where a mother’s love was absent, is dealt with in intimate detail in many of her novels. In several she portrays mothers who are more interested in image than in substance.64 Both Harriot’s mother and Mrs Bellenden are the mothers of three daughters, hold the same principles of education, and often react in similarly limited ways. They both have a great contempt for “book learning in women.” Mrs Bellenden in Euphemia, for instance, “by her politeness and attention to please, [supplied] in some degree the defect of her education, which being confined to mere accomplishments, as they are called, [had] left the nobler powers of her mind uncultivated.”65 Harriot explains that her own mother held her desire to learn against her. My mother, who thought knowledge a useless acquisition for one of her own sex, beheld my attachment to study with concern. I was not so happy in her affection as the rest of her children; and I believe the bent of my inclinations to intellectual improvements, was the ground of the indifference she always expressed for me.66

Also, both women make remarks about their own origins and are highly offended when the governor refuses to let his son or nephew marry their daughters. However, when a high official pays these mothers his compliments, they forget their indignation. And finally on the brink of ruin they approve of suitors whom they had long ignored for their daughters. The rather fickle nature of both of these mothers likely mirrors, or at least is informed by, Lennox’s experience with her own mother.

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Ironically, it may in fact have been her mother’s “contempt for reading” that allowed Charlotte to receive her best education, since Charlotte was undoubtedly educated through her experiences in North America. Not only did they expose her to the racial, cultural, and geographical diversity of cultures but they also instructed her in the diverse ways she could choose to be a woman, from the obedient, anti-intellectual female that her mother embodied to the fashionable metropolitan belle. However, the quantity and quality of Charlotte’s formal education is a matter of conjecture. Education for girls in New York was limited, and the only place Charlotte could possibly have taken lessons was at the fort in Albany.67 There was also a Dutch school at Albany,68 but it is unlikely that Charlotte attended it, since there is no evidence that she spoke Dutch. Nevertheless, her early exposure to foreign languages likely fostered an interest in language learning. She also might have been sent to the more populated and English-speaking New York.69 Later in life, Charlotte described how the typical young girl’s educational opportunities lacked seriousness, depth, and structure.70 In her novelistic depictions of Albany, Charlotte alludes to a potentially useful education only in the home: Euphemia teaches her daughter French, Italian, and music, while her husband instructs the child in writing, accounts, and drawing. Mrs Stuart and Mrs Bellenden, mothers who are rebuked by her narratives, are contemptuous of all forms of instruction in academic subjects. A New York education focused on acquiring refined manners, rather than on reading and the arts.71 For example, Euphemia’s daughter, during her yearly stay in New York, only learns needlework, “the oeconomy of a family,” and dancing.72 Lennox’s mother was exasperated with her precocious daughter and relegated her education to Charlotte’s brother, who was several years older. Her only requirement was that Charlotte read no books “which might teach [her] to be undutiful.”73 Fortunately, her mother’s insistence did not produce the expected result. Instead, as we shall see, Charlotte grew up to be exceptionally free-spirited. Charlotte’s closest familial allies were her older brother and her father. She describes her father as being deeply devoted to her, writing that he “loved me with great tenderness.”74 However, she writes in greater detail about her brother. The Aesop scenario concludes with Charlotte’s brother coming to her rescue. Charlotte explains that when “my mother [left] the room to give some necessary orders … [m]y brother ran eagerly to me, snatched me up in his arms, and gave me a hundred kisses.”75 Therefore, it comes as no surprise that she believed that she “owed the advantage of a right education” to her brother. His tutoring eventually led to her staying with him and “keep[ing] [his] house,” although where she would have done so, in America or England, is not clear.76 To her, “right education” meant studying history, philosophy, and literature. In fact, she believed that without her brother’s intervention she would have gone without any formal learning.77

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As a boy and the oldest child, James Jr had numerous educational and professional advantages over his younger sister. He was “provided for by a genteel legacy from his uncle”78 and may have become a doctor. It may be that he was much older than his sister. A “Doctor Ramsey … accompanied the American regiment in the Cartagena expedition,” from where word of his death reached New York in April 1741.79 And one “James Ramsay Jr” was a “surgeon for the troops at Oswego” for one year ending 1 September 1741.80 Also, a “Lieutenant James Ramsay” volunteered to join the Cartagena Expedition, although he had previously been a member of the Third Dragoon Guards. His name is on a List of Gentlemen Recommended to His Majesty by Lord Cathcart for Lieutenants in the American Troops.81 Perhaps significantly, this James Ramsay served in the troop of a certain “Colonel Bellenden.” Although evidence cannot confirm which of these was Charlotte’s brother, this last one, Lieutenant James Ramsay, would fit much of the description of a beloved character in the novel Harriot Stuart. In this novel the protagonist’s brother is apprenticed to a surgeon in spite of his great inclinations to join the army. Later he goes to Jamaica and finally joins his family in New York;82 but upon his return to Jamaica, he dies at a rather young age. Using this character as a key to the fate of Charlotte’s brother, it is therefore possible that young James Ramsay died during the Cartagena expedition.83 However, if James Jr was involved in military ventures with American regiments and did not die, but ultimately stayed in America, this might further explain Charlotte’s lifelong interest in the British/American relationship. Charlotte’s brother’s educational influence did not fulfil their mother’s desire that she learn to be dutiful, as she found a way to share her writing – an act that was traditionally thought vain in women – with a wider reading public by the age of thirteen. The anonymous poem “On Reading Poems by Mrs. Lennox Published When She Was Not Fourteen Years Old” suggests that Charlotte had early experience with some sort of publishing while she was still in New England.84 Whether this poem originally appeared in America or England is uncertain. Even at a young age, Charlotte was described as “breath[ing] in [Britain’s] manners purer fires,” a “genius,” a “Sappho,” and a “Sapphick Muse.”

Chapter Two

An English Sappho Ages 13–21 1742–50

… Take my word for it, it is no great compliment we pay to persons, when we tell them that all the world speaks well of them; for those who are remarkable for any shining qualities will be more envied than admired, and frequently more calumniated than praised. (Henrietta, 81)

Although education was Charlotte’s primary interest, her family, as well as those close to them, were probably more concerned with her marriageability. Perhaps they thought that England would offer this precocious young girl the formation she needed to be a suitable wife. Thus it would have seemed prudent to send thirteen-year-old Charlotte away from America to be cared for by her maternal aunt in Essex. In the end, Charlotte was sent back to England with only “a female relation” as a travelling companion and with the plan to be reunited with her “opulent”1 maternal aunt. Mrs Lucking of Messing Hall was “the widow of a gentleman of an honourable family and good fortune” and had “earnestly request[ed] to have the care of Miss Charlotte.” As in the case of Jane Austen’s character Fanny Price, her aunt may have hoped to gain a female companion from her poorer relations. However, Charlotte dodged that fate, because of a series of unfortunate events. Having arrived in England around 1741, Charlotte was met with startling news: Mrs Lucking’s only son, and the heir to her title and large estate, had had a fatal accident. The combined weight of her son’s death and the loss of the fortune he would have inherited was too great for his mother: she “lost her senses and soon after her life.”2 It was probably no less of a trauma for young Charlotte, whose hopes of a caring guardian, greater access to books, and maybe even a more solid

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education were instantly dashed. Stepping off that New York ship onto English soil meant that her childhood had vanished. For all intents and purposes, Charlotte was an orphan. Leaving North America a girl, she was now part of the marriage market in a country that she once called “home.” However, England must have looked incredibly alien. She had been a baby in Gibraltar, lived as a young girl in England (quite possibly outside London), and had begun to grow into a woman in New York. Culture shock was the least of her problems: she was homeless and without a guardian. In fact, her friends thought it would be best to send her back to America. However, what happened next is remarkable, for any woman, let alone a thirteen-year-old. Indeed, no evidence exists to explain precisely how this dramatic transformation in Charlotte’s fortunes was produced. Somehow, her writings gained the attention of Lady Isabella Finch, first Lady of the Bedchamber to Princesses Amelia and Carolina.3 Although records do not indicate which of Charlotte’s works these were, they not only proved her intelligence, but also her graciousness – or at least gave the impression that she could learn polite sociability – and the fact that her writing was not circulated anonymously indicated her willingness to be known as a writer. All of this meant that Charlotte was thought a young woman of interest, and thus a good candidate to become a companion to the princesses. Ultimately, Lady Isabella and her sister, Lady Mary, the Marchioness of Rockingham, took Charlotte under their care.4 Lady Isabella had supported many destitute souls throughout her long service in the Hanoverian court and planned to place Charlotte in service to the princesses when she was a bit older.5 She must have felt Charlotte’s suffering, but she also saw her mind. The truth is that Charlotte’s writing may have saved her from a long sea journey back across the ocean to unwelcoming circumstances in America. Hers was a wild leap from the dock to dignified recognition of her writing ability by powerful people. Charlotte’s guardians began as her friends, but these women not only came from different classes and cultural backgrounds but also had very different needs. Charlotte sought independence, while Lady Isabella sought companionship. Lady Isabella had been connected to the Duke of Newcastle since at least 1738, when she wrote to him in a familiar tone about a journey that she took with the princess. Lady Isabella’s spirit and intellectual curiosity would have drawn her to Charlotte, and the young girl’s love of books would have attracted her to Lady Isabella. The architect William Kent finished Lady Isabella’s luxurious house, located at 44 Berkeley Square, in 1744. It contained Lady Isabella’s library, the only one held by a lady at court at the time. This library might well have been accessible to Charlotte, allowing her to fulfil her dream of acquiring a more serious education.

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One cannot help imagining the teenage Charlotte earnestly studying in this library, where she was introduced to a wide array of books, which likely would have included admired poetry and classical translations. Lady Isabella was also a subscriber to the Whig political propagandist William Petyt’s Jus Parliamentarium (1739), a treatise on the rights and liberties of Parliament, and Lewis Theobald’s 1733 seven-volume edition of The Works of Shakespeare, which included many claims about Shakespeare that Lennox later contested in her own Shakespeare criticism.6 In the British capital and with access to new resources, Lennox worked hard to give herself a good education, using whatever means she could. Little did Charlotte know that her astute reading and impressive writing skills would be so necessary to her future. The shock of her aunt’s death was only one aspect of her abrupt coming of age. In addition to this traumatic fact, she was confronted with a far more personal loss: her father’s death in Albany. Records do not indicate how: his last recorded appearance was at a commissioners’ meeting on 26 January 1742, and he did not attend the next two meetings, perhaps because he was too sick.7 It is clear that he died at his post on 10 March 1742.8 He had been the commanding officer of the fort for nearly three years. Reflecting as an adult on her father’s death, Charlotte confessed, “I have been a wretch since I was thirteen years old when I lost my father – adversity is habitual to me.”9 James Ramsay, the parent who seemed to understand her, could no longer be her advocate. Reflections on his life portrayed him in a glowing light, as witnessed in the passionate assertion forty years after his death that “his memory is still dear to many persons of distinguished worth!”10 Charlotte’s American stories told of commanding officers, in the fort where the main protagonists lived, dying while still in America. In Euphemia, the beloved Colonel Bellenden dies after a “paralytic stroke,” putting his family into a deep state of grief.11 Charlotte’s father’s sudden death was a traumatic and life-changing event.12 Without his support, both financial and emotional, Charlotte was utterly alone. Her Irish and Scottish roots, her transient childhood, and her exposure to numerous cultures and lands all made her a stranger in the aristocratic London world she now occupied. Though Lady Isabella and Lady Mary offered care, she could not rely on them. Her future was entirely up to her. Catherine’s reaction to James’s death was also dramatic. She “could by no means be prevailed on to quit the melancholy spot where the ashes of her husband were deposited,” and so she stayed in North America. If James had lived a few years longer, “this worthy parent” might have in fact “left his family in the circumstances he so ardently wished,”13 but instead they were “without any provision.”14 Although a captain’s salary was double that of a lieutenant, 146 pounds, plus six shillings a day for subsistence, it was far below that of the governor. Since Colonel

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Ramsay had only been in America for three years, he was not able to save enough either for his daughters’ dowries or for Catherine to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Charlotte’s narratives often include such sobering turns of events: upon the deaths of their husbands, both widows in her American novels are left with very serious financial troubles. Harriot explains, “Tho my father’s allowance from the government had been very large, yet as his affairs were pretty much involved when he left England, and he had enjoyed his post in America but a short time, he had not been able to save much for our support.”15 Financial difficulties would plague Charlotte her entire life. James Ramsay’s death occurred under the legal and political purview of the Duke of Newcastle, who was ultimately responsible for sending him overseas, as he had oversight of colonial affairs.16 It is possible that Newcastle was aware that James’s young daughter was now in England without the protection of a family member. Perhaps this is how his wife, Lady Henrietta Godolphin, Duchess of Newcastle, eventually became one of Charlotte’s advocates. Lady Isabella Finch, who was in regular correspondence with the Duke, and her sister Lady Mary Rockingham17 played a significant role in refining Charlotte’s education back in England. Because of their close dealings at court, these individuals would have known each other. Rather than living in the bucolic Essex of her aunt’s world, Charlotte now had first-hand exposure to aristocratic environs and London high society. She lived for some time at Lady Mary’s home at 4 Grosvenor Square, probably reading and writing as much as she could.18 To Lady Isabella and Lady Mary, a strong female mind without resources meant one that was particularly useful for service. Charlotte was thus being prepared for the day when she would become an attendant to one of the princesses. Also, at mid-century a woman’s presence within writing communities was beginning to be possible. Another member of Lady Isabella’s circle, the celebrated writer and preacher Dr Thomas Birch, may have had some influence on Charlotte’s development. He possessed a poem, “The Dream, an Ode by Miss Ramsey,” along with her Latin translation of it, that Charlotte wrote at the age of fifteen. This could suggest that Charlotte studied Latin with him. Lennox was still in contact with Birch as late as 1759.19 The personal relationship between Birch and Charlotte is not clear; however, he may have influenced her intellectual and religious education. He wrote a biography of William Chillingworth for the 1742 edition of Chillingworth’s Works, and Lennox depicts Chillingworth’s arguments as central to the conversion of the Catholic Dumont to Protestantism in Harriot Stuart.20 At this time, in addition to writing poetry, and perhaps fiction as well, Charlotte was likely studying French,21 as well as Latin. In her position as a hanger-on of the aristocracy, Charlotte’s life at court, if she had ended up there, might have followed the pattern of another well-known

An English Sappho

Figure 7 Thomas Pelham-Holles, First Duke of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, by William Hoare, circa 1750–2.

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author, Frances Burney, who, although she had already published two novels, felt pressure from her family to accept a post as “Second Keeper of the Robes” to Queen Charlotte, which included a substantial salary. If she hoped that this post would give her more time to write, she was disappointed, as she found the royal placement gruelling, and ultimately she was able to leave because of illness.22 Another pattern Charlotte’s life might have followed at court was that of her patroness Lady Isabella. Before meeting Charlotte, Lady Isabella, an important attendant at court herself, also experienced the punishing hours and polite constraints associated with this position. In fact, she was reprimanded by Princess Amelia for having a mind of her own and immediately apologized, insisting that it would never happen again. She writes, “I shall ne’re again be reproached by your Grace with having too much Spirit” (emphasis hers).23 Job security was not a luxury afforded to those in service. As the primary companion to the princess, Lady Isabella also could not escape knowledge of, and occasional involvement in, political machinations. On 20 December 1763 she told the Duke of Newcastle that “Sr. Brook” disapproved his vote on the past Friday, adding that he “assured me he would dispatch all his private affairs by the Meeting of the Parliament and then your Grace will be convinced of his politicks.”24 The two continued to exchange letters about political activity the following year.25 Lady Isabella was, in effect, a place server. Later in her life, she had to badger the Duke of Newcastle about her pension, as he had “three times forgot.”26 Two months later she was still pressing him, asking “only an addition of ten years to my Patent, which I flatter myself your Grace won’t think an unreasonable request from an old friend and humble servant.” Life in service to the court was not as glamorous as some might imagine. Charlotte likely saw glimpses of Lady Isabella’s “service.” Rather than suffer the ignominies of a career at court, Charlotte longed for another, more independent life, one that would have been hard to acquire in the mid-1740s. Whether by chance or action, her life took an unexpected turn when a visitor to the Rockingham home caught her attention. All that is reported about this episode is that “she fancied that a gentleman who visited at the house had become enamoured with her; though she is said to have been very plain in her person. This fancied passion led her into some extravagancies of vanity and jealousy, which terminated her residence with Lady Rockingham.”27 Unfortunately, it remains unclear what exactly happened at Lady Mary’s. The Rockinghams had a son who was the same age as Charlotte, and his friends called him “the marquis.” At age fifteen he left to fight against the Young Pretender under the Duke of Cumberland, and he eventually became prime minister,28 but he certainly may have visited while Charlotte was living with his mother. Whoever the visitor was that caused Charlotte difficulty, it is clear that Charlotte’s behaviour was so displeasing to Lady Mary that the young woman had to leave her home. Charlotte’s plight sounds like the stuff of her

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novels, a young woman whose “extravagancies” alienate her from her protector. However, departing from the typical novel plot and to Charlotte’s credit, her reputation was not damaged by this incident. She was accused of no real impropriety and was saved from the fate not just of novel heroines but of earlier female authors as well, whose intellectual virtues were subsumed by scandal.29 Lennox’s novels often address the theme of the blameless and isolated young woman who trusts others far too easily. Harriot Stuart, who lives in America and comes to England, is both innocent and attracted to a future among nobles and all the temptations of a cosmopolitan city. Yet her inexperience does not keep her from defending herself with her assailant’s own sword, a rare example of a heroine preserving herself from an attempted rape by seizing her attacker’s weapon.30 Lennox also portrays how being a companion to a rich woman meant being vulnerable to easy exploitation. In her novel Henrietta, which imagines its readers as male,31 the protagonist realizes that there is a systemic problem of keeping women in their place and that posh people can be intolerable. She is threatened by numerous potential companions, from the deceptive Miss Cordwain to the selfish Miss Belmour. In Sophia, the petty competitiveness of the wealthy nearly ruins the young innocent’s reputation. Mrs Howard, a widow “of an affluent fortune” and a potential employer, and her friend Mrs Barton “charitably resolved to ruin [Sophia] with all possible gentleness.”32 Lennox continues this theme of power’s lack of care for the defenceless throughout her career. In her last novel, Euphemia’s son Edward, like Charlotte, has a “natural love of knowledge and early habits of study,” but book learning cannot substitute for good instincts. Lennox writes about how it is impossible for this “unsuspecting youth,” who had an “open and candid temper,” to notice false kindness, “till it is too late.” She sums up the problem: Nothing seems more easy to young persons than to gain affection; and they reckon their own friendship a sure price of another persons; but I tell him that when experience shall have shewn him the hardness of most hearts, and the deceitfulness of others he will find that a friend is the gift of God.33

The quality of Charlotte’s relationship with Lady Isabella and Lady Mary is unclear, but like her character in Euphemia the seventeen-year-old Charlotte would undoubtedly have had hesitations about whom she could trust. Sincerity in friendship is a consistent theme in her novels and essays. Charlotte’s ability to make and keep friends is evident later in her life, but she also had a spiky side. As her poetry that was critical of what she perceived as superficiality reveals, her tendencies towards argument may have complicated her relationships with these powerful women. Whether because of her American experiences or her personality,

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Charlotte was not inclined to a life as a female companion and thus needed a different strategy, one that suited her personality, to make a decent income. In keeping with her flair for the dramatic and a craving for independence, at seventeen Charlotte took up a career as an actress. She played Lavinia in The Fair Penitent,34 an extremely popular play at Drury Lane, which in 1746 was one of only two official theatres in London. The play was one of a group of “civic” dramas that illustrate scenes of political discord and private misery around women’s concerns. Onstage, women’s sentimental ardour is linked with public spirit. As one of the key performers, Charlotte began to take an active, and public, role in the direction of her life. This play was seen by some as a call for women to resist “wild obedience.”35 The tract Woman Not Inferior to Man “By Sophia, A Person of Quality”36 uses a quotation from this play as an epigraph. How hard is the Condition of our Sex, Thro’ ev’ry State of life the Slaves of Man Wherefore are we Born with high Souls, but to assert ourselves, Shake off this wild Obedience they exact, And claim an equal Empire o’er the World

Performing in this play was Charlotte’s public declaration of independence. Lady Isabella’s and Lady Mary’s opinions on this role are unknown, but appearing on the stage was a risky act for a young woman with no family. Aristocratic women certainly attended the theatre, but they were generally scornful of the characters of women who put themselves on display in this way. Thus, by choosing to become an actress – whether or not she had set out to do so – Charlotte was emancipated from a servitude to the aristocracy. Charlotte was formed by 1740s ideas of femininity, but she was freer to act on her own volition because of her orphan status. As a young actress, her life dramatically contrasted with that of her sister Eleanor, who ended up on another path in the hopes of financial independence.37 Schenectady historical records show that Eleanor stayed in America and “chose to reside with an aunt … whose heir she expect[ed] to be.” No records have surfaced to corroborate this future for Eleanor. However, her potential fortune from an American aunt does provide an imaginative contrast to Charlotte’s fate as the younger sister. If Mrs Lucking and her son in Essex had lived, perhaps Charlotte would also have had a family member’s protection. However, Charlotte’s struggles with her mother and her avoidance of the guidance of powerful patronesses in London suggest that she would not have lasted long in Essex. Eleanor, according to Charlotte’s later account, was “a slave to the caprices of an old woman.”38 Her sister may have married a John Campbell

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of Cherry Valley, near Schenectady, New York, and lived there for several more decades.39 In fact, Eleanor was probably alive well into Charlotte’s adulthood. “Equal Empire” Rather than succumbing to the caprices of others, Charlotte’s “high soul” embarked on a journey that claimed an even greater independence, as well as an “equal Empire o’er the World.” After starting this journey by rejecting aristocratic patronage and continuing it by becoming an actress, in 1747 Charlotte found the way to at least earn money that felt truest to herself. That year, Charlotte’s Poems on Several Occasions – a collection of thirty pastorals, odes, songs, epistles, a satire, and a tale set in verse – was published to critical acclaim by the respectable bookseller Samuel Paterson. Getting paid as a writer, albeit only a little lump sum, meant Charlotte would be comparatively freer than a lady’s maid or an actress, and as a writer she would not have to perform physically day after day. Instead, she could mould and craft her own work, of course to please publishers and audiences, but in her own way. She would not have to conform to particular dress codes, or observe, and keep up with, the insidious visiting protocol required of polite sociability. Instead of a life of fortune and performance, she gambled on a life of the mind. In contrast to the shame seventeenth-century women poets often experienced, female-authored verse found a remarkably welcoming atmosphere beginning in the 1720s.40 Edward Cave’s Gentleman’s Magazine, which was probably one of the most influential of the numerous periodicals, printed monthly poetry pages from its inception in 1731, and many of the best-known poets of the period, including a sizeable number of women authors, appeared there. In the 1730s women more frequently also published volumes of their verse by subscription, rather than the prior mode of circulating writing among friends.41 It is unclear whether or not Lady Isabella and Lady Mary helped Charlotte enter the London literary marketplace. Her patronesses’ encouragement would have been satisfying. On the other hand, discouragement could simply have added flame to Charlotte’s fire. Charlotte may have proven more precocious than Lady Isabella and Lady Mary had bargained for, or perhaps, like her protagonist Henrietta, she was simply a young woman of principle, not willing to compromise herself to please her female guardians. She was not a daughter, sister, niece, or cousin to anyone living in England. Thus without the usual familial pressures and having at such a young age enjoyed the thrill of publication, without the scorn, she may have experienced a sense of her own individuality. Free from the pressures of inherited expectation, Charlotte had the mental space to contemplate new trends in literature. Her lack of family ties helped her become a modern woman.42

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The printer and bookseller Samuel Paterson could not have known that his decision to publish Charlotte’s poems and sell them for one shilling and sixpence would make him a bookseller of minor fame later in life, although he later boasted about his role in publishing Charlotte’s first book.43 However, Paterson had a good sense for what poetry would be appreciated by his clientele. He was known for being particularly well acquainted with the English poets. His “love of reading led him to deal books,” and he was lauded for his memory, both of a text’s contents and its bibliographic details. His bookshop opposite Durham Yard in the Strand was particularly remembered posthumously for issuing “Miss Charlotte’s Ramsay’s Poems.”44 Charlotte’s first publication, Poems on Several Occasions, then, appeared in this milieu in November of 1747. The collection shows her versatility as a poet, as she included poems of different metres, styles, and genres. In several cases Charlotte makes references that are autobiographical, including the poem about sociability in New York and one that likely references Lady Isabella Finch. As she may have written some of these while she was still in America, it is notable that many of the thirty poems in her collection address women’s agency in courtship. As Charlotte was now of an age to marry, this topic would have come up in many conversations occurring around her. In keeping with her commitment to women’s lives, to the beauty and struggle of being female, as well as to female friendship and its complexities, almost all of Charlotte’s poems are addressed to women. Most of them engage with the complicated nature of relationships, either romantic love between men and women or female friendship. In all cases, these relationships are portrayed as very intense and with the potential to cause pain. In many of the poems about romantic love, a woman is the heroine for having battled envy or jealousy and won.45 In typical sentimental language, many discuss the power of the eyes to convey intense meaning as well as understanding.46 A number assert that women are able to control their emotions with reason and purposefully choose men of substance. While some suggest disguising emotions, others deeply lament the need for concealment, for example expressing disappointment over “the fatal flame we cannot show.”47 Lennox frequently gives the names Aurelia, Artelia, or Ardelia to women who have particular agency, and in a few cases she makes direct reference to her poetic predecessors. Ardelia is the poet Anne Finch’s (1661–1720) moniker.48 In contrast, the name of the male love interest is often the hackneyed Philander. Also, in keeping with a theme of scepticism about romantic love, several times the symbol of a chain is used to describe passionate love.49 In one poem the goddess Clio, the muse of history, visits the author, and, by writing, that author becomes immortalized.50 In another, the Scots-Irish philosopher Francis Hutcheson is challenged for not satisfying the tortured soul of the poet. The poet complains,

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“How few by Stoick Rules can live,” and questions why she should be virtuous if she does not get credit for it “here below,” since “in the World ’tis view’d with other Eyes.” Those poems that address female friendship celebrate its beauties. “To Mira. Inviting her to a Retreat in the Country” may be addressed to Mary Leapor (1733–46), as she went by this pen name.51 The poem ends with the lines: Friendship is but Love refin’d, Not weakns, but exalts the Mind; And when its sacred Power we prove, We guess how heavenly Spirits love.

For Lennox, women’s friendship, when sincere, was imbued with sacred power. Charlotte’s Poems take women seriously, as thoughtful readers with an abundance of agency and emotional intelligence. Many poems tout the virtues of a single life and suggest ways to ensure and maintain that state; thus female friendship plays a crucial role. Given the theme of female independence, it is particularly interesting that Charlotte dedicated her Poems to Lady Isabella Finch. She finished the manuscript before October 1747 and signed this poignant tribute “Charlotte Ramsay.” Although she was presumably given a present of ten pounds, the average payment for such dedications, Charlotte’s compliment was as much an acknowledgment of respect for Lady Isabella as it was a declaration of independence from her. Lady Isabella must have been supportive of her publication, as her approval would have been required for Paterson to print this dedication. Charlotte highlights how instrumental Lady Isabella had been in aiding her both personally and professionally. Still, she makes it clear that she is not as interested in having a patroness as in adequately expressing gratitude to Lady Isabella, who had offered her essential aid when she was left stranded in England. She thanks her with “Your Ladyship’s early Favour and Indulgence, as it was sufficient to satisfy the most boundless Vanity, gives you the strongest claim to my Perpetual Gratitude.” In presenting these poems to Lady Isabella, Charlotte takes “the Opportunity of Acknowledging the Obligations you have conferr’d on me.” “I am truly sensible of the extreme honour your protection will afford me.” She concludes with “Suffer me then, Madam, thus publickly to own your Ladyship’s goodness, and to profess myself with the greatest respect, Your Ladyship’s Most oblig’d and grateful humble servant, Charlotte Ramsay.” She is appreciative not only of Lady Isabella’s past acts but also of how her influence will affect Charlotte’s future. Charlotte also likely sold the copyright to the publisher. The young poet may have been expressing further gratitude to Lady Isabella with a poem that shows her sincere respect. “The Language of the Eyes” is addressed

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“To Lady J – F – .” However, this “J” may be disguising an “I,” thus Isabella Finch. The poem begins by lamenting the fact that women are forced by “tyrant custom” to conceal “the anguish of our souls,” but that the eyes, the “sweet betrayers of the mind,” show their past experiences. Lennox’s reference to “tyrant custom” echoes Sarah Fyge Egerton’s poem “Emulation,”52 as well as Shakespeare’s Othello. Lennox’s poem points out that those who wish to “correct the lover’s heart” should learn from Isabella’s eyes, which “owe their Rays to sense.” Charlotte’s poem points to Lady Isabella’s own restrictions as a woman and compliments her on her ability to work within existing constraints to demonstrate her intelligence and to be a model for other young women. Thus, Poems on Several Occasions functions to show the tension within Lennox. It is both her acknowledgment of her debt to Lady Isabella and a declaration of her independence. This independence may be traced back to Lennox’s time in North America, where in some instances courtship practices more openly recognized a woman’s sexuality and her wishes.53 One traveller, J.L. Mesick, described North America as a place where men and women comfortably carried on informal conversation, with “almost unlimited liberty and freedom of intercourse … between young people of the two sexes.”54 Also, in the eighteenth century, Native Americans were often used to represent a kind of prelapsarian freedom, which could be understood as greater equality in marriage.55 In contrast, in England, young women were not encouraged to be sincere but rather were expected to hide their desires. The transition from the fort at Albany to the luxurious home of Lady Mary Rockingham would have been dramatic. Some of Lennox’s poetry, perhaps that written upon her arrival in England, reflects feelings of restriction and perhaps highlights changes she noticed upon returning as a woman of marriageable age. The title page to Poems on Several Occasions foregrounds the conflicting feelings that Charlotte likely experienced when she put herself before the public with her first book-length publication. The publication history indicates a tension between the dependent young woman who would be callous not to show gratitude and the young woman who longed to stand on her own two feet. One print run of the manuscript notes that it is “Written by a Young Lady,” while another deletes the “young.”56 This decision also signals a discussion about how this manuscript should have been marketed. The poems’ content includes passion’s vexing power, invocations of reason, false friendship, and the psychological intricacies of courtship. “Written by a Young Lady” emphasizes both Charlotte’s gender and her youth, suggesting innocence and intrigue. Charlotte’s poems are honest about the internal struggles associated with sexuality; so as a younger author, her frank approach could have put her own reputation in question. But if she is presented as older, with the authorial ascription “Written by a Lady,” a discussion of these topics would not have been as open to censure. Perhaps the

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choice of calling Charlotte “a Lady” also alluded to those years of acting the part of an aristocratic lady, under the tutelage of Lady Isabella and Lady Mary. Perhaps by necessity, perhaps by choice, but either way Charlotte Ramsay was departing from her life of comfort and patronage. This was a gamble, a decision that would be ideal material for one of the ultra-modern novels, like Samuel Richardson’s Pamela (1740), that were currently a sensation in the literary marketplace. Charlotte did not know at this point if her Poems would succeed, yet if she anticipated the need for a kind of insurance policy, another plan was afoot. By the time Poems was being reviewed she was married. An Unlikely Independence Before the rift, and before she had performed on stage and published Poems, Charlotte “had been constantly” with Lady Isabella or Lady Mary and had been making plans to go with Lady Mary into the country.57 However, the country was not in her future. Charlotte’s next decision would plant her firmly in London for the rest of her life. Her alliances with Lady Isabella and Lady Mary changed, and she had developed a relationship with Alexander Lennox, who was an employee of the prestigious printer and publisher William Strahan, a friend of Samuel Johnson.58 Alexander, who must have been particularly enlightened to be attracted to and choose to marry a woman who was pursuing publication, was supposedly “a young gentleman of good family and genteel education.”59 Charlotte certainly understood some practical aspects about the nature of love, and, writing poetry that included such thoughtful advice, she seemed wise to the power of carnal attraction. The fact that Alexander was a fellow Scot and had connections with the literary market through his work for Strahan, another Scot, may have interested her. Alexander’s noble Scottish heritage was important to him, and this national connection could have reminded Charlotte of her father. Since Samuel Johnson would have frequently visited Strahan, and Charlotte had become friends with Johnson, perhaps she met Alexander through Johnson and/or Strahan.60 It is also easy to believe that she avoided dull, conventional men. Certainly, to get Charlotte’s attention, a man needed a bit of fire. Alexander’s occupation in, and perhaps even aspiration to, the literary world suggests they shared interests. Perhaps he had a skill for turning a clever phrase. Perhaps his interest in her writing fuelled their connection. For all of Charlotte’s understanding about resisting passion, physical attraction may in fact still have won out over reason. Eighteen-year-old Charlotte, still struggling with the culture shock of coming from America, her orphan status, and the prospect of an intensely restricted life at court, was at a crossroads. At this juncture, she made the final decision to walk away from a life as a handmaid to aristocrats and

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towards a life with a printer’s apprentice. Living by one’s pen was a far riskier choice, one that could sadly end in poverty. With one witness and without posting banns, Charlotte married Alexander Lennox at St George’s Chapel, Mayfair, on 6 October 1747.61 The marriage record gives her name “Barbara Ramsey, of St. Anne’s Westminster.”62 Perhaps Barbara was a nickname that she used among friends and perhaps her birth name was Barbara Charlotte Ramsay – or she was intentionally being covert in her marriage to Alexander,63 since St George’s was known for the large number of clandestine marriages.64 The fact that Charlotte and Alexander were married in a notorious marriage shop suggests that they were determined to marry outside of traditionally sanctioned avenues. On the marriage contract, Charlotte had to sign an acknowledgment that she was under age,65 which could be seen as proof that she married of her own volition. There is also the possibility that Charlotte was somehow coerced into marrying Alexander. Yet, her assertiveness at so many other points in her life makes this a more distant possibility. Rather than embrace a life of court service, Charlotte Ramsay seems to have turned her back on this aristocratic circle and became Charlotte Lennox, published author in her own right. However, this seemingly reckless decision shocked her patronesses, who may have still been under the impression that Charlotte’s literary successes were simply useful credentials for their ultimate plan for her to go into service. If they did imagine Charlotte marrying, an apprentice to a printer was probably not their idea of a good match. Alexander had a genteel education, but “his fortune … consisted wholly in hopes and expectations.”66 Within one month Charlotte, free of the royal court, became a published London author and a wife. At the same time and because of these developments, her friendship with Lady Isabella and Lady Mary was strained.67 When she married Alexander, Charlotte may well have been an optimistic, indomitable, precocious, American-bred young woman, and her first few years of marriage to Alexander may have been blissfully interesting. Their union had hints of an untethered marriage, artistic and bohemian. Together, they often visited Samuel Richardson, whose circle included authors Sarah Fielding and Jane Collier, and would thus have contributed to Richardson’s project to include women’s voices in his novels.68 With her small income from Poems and Alexander’s work with Strahan, they may have been able to live comfortably, and perhaps youthful idealism soothed whatever financial woes they faced. She wrote, and he supported her efforts. Near-simultaneous first publication and betrothal offered Charlotte a certain kind of freedom to move more comfortably through the London city streets. Single women were considered at risk and closely monitored. But as Mrs Lennox, wife and author, Charlotte enjoyed a less tentative status in the shops and public spaces of her neighbourhood of St Ann’s, Westminster.69 The publication of Poems

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and her marriage to Alexander put her on a kind of independent path. A marriage contract and her literary prospects may have seemed firmer than what her patronesses could offer. However, soon Charlotte realized that Alexander was not equipped to earn, and keep, a steady income. With hopes of literary triumph and also a pressing need to earn money, Lennox forged ahead with various literary endeavours. Again, she found a role as an actress, though her part is unknown, in Richmond on 3 September 1748. On seeing her act, the notoriously irascible Horace Walpole reported that she was a much better poet than performer. In fact, he called her dramatic abilities “deplorable.”70 Even though David Garrick, the new manager of the same theatre in which she had previously performed, was in the audience, Lennox was not daunted; in 1749 she starred as the main protagonist, Almeria, in Congreve’s The Mourning Bride. By that point, Lennox herself may have been a bride in mourning, realizing too late that Alexander was more of a liability than an asset. Not only was she an actress in this play, performed at the Little Theatre in the Haymarket,71 but the play itself and a musical concert were being put on to raise money for her. A play for her benefit suggests her value in the theatre world. All of the important booksellers of the day – Dodsley, Millar, Payne, Darres, and Davison – were taking donations for tickets, but Charlotte Lennox’s financial struggles were now public knowledge. Fortunately, Lennox’s poetic skills were appreciated to such a degree that she could leave the stage behind – at least as an actress. Poems on Several Occasions had been expected to be a success,72 and its reception was perhaps better than she could have imagined. Lennox’s name appeared several times in the “Poetry” section of the Gentleman’s Magazine. Charlotte Ramsay was no longer the transient orphan girl with the benevolent aristocratic patrons, but “Mrs. Charlotte Lennox,” English Sappho. This term implied female poetic excellence and connected Lennox with a female literary history, as did the long adulatory June 1749 poem, “To Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, upon seeing the Poems and Proposals for Printing Them,” which described her poetic skill in glowing detail. It referred to Lennox as a “rising Muse” who possessed “melting lays” and “fluent fancy.” The poem is effusive about her character and her mind (as well as her physical appearance) and ends with a tribute both to Charlotte’s intellect and to her beauty: “at once you ravish and instruct mankind.” Furthermore, the poem offers, … nature is thy guide; On thee profuse, she beams each shining grace, Wit in thy mind, and beauty in thy face … But did no charms adorn that form of thine, And in thy eye no peerless lustre shine,

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Thy wit, the tender passion would impart, Steal on the soul, and captivate the heart.

This laudatory poem distinguished Lennox for her capacity to integrate intellect and emotion and placed her firmly in the literary limelight. As a result of Poems’ favourable reception, not only did “Mrs. Charlotte Lennox” soon publish two poems in the widely read Gentleman’s Magazine, but she was also extolled there for her abilities after her name appeared on the title page of the November issue. One was a new poem, “An Ode on the Birthday of Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, Written by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox,”73 which shows Charlotte’s close connections with royalty – and thus the very real possibility of her being forced into a servile position to Princess Amelia if she had not married. “The Art of Coquetry,”74 a reprint from Poems, instructs women to attract and keep men by exercising the art of wit, since thus “their empire may improve.” Printed just before these two poems in the Gentleman’s Magazine was “To Mrs. Charlotte Lennox. On Reading Her Poems, Printing by Subscription, on One Volume. 8vo. Price 5s.,” signed “E.N.,” who favoured Lennox over Sappho and vigorously lauded her poetic abilities. Still more complimentary than the earlier poem, it also conflated Lennox’s profound perception with her physical beauty: Your eyes into our soul that fire convey, So well described in thy harmonious lay: Your verse creates, your form can fix desire, Wishing we read, and gazing we admire.

Lennox, suddenly an icon of English insight, was praised for communicating with the very “soul” of the nation. The publications in the Gentleman’s Magazine may have given her momentary notoriety, but the Poems on Several Occasions had a long life. “The Art of Coquetry” was frequently referenced and reprinted and went on to become Lennox’s signature;75 she must have struck a nerve in discussing the nuances of female reputation and the coquette. Earlier, Mary Astell had written about this complexity in her preface to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Turkish Embassy Letters;76 even at this time, the definitions clearly depended on context. In addition to Lennox’s achievement in the Gentleman’s Magazine, the success of the Poems, and the popularity of “The Art of Coquetry,” the upright classicist and poet Elizabeth Carter praised her style when she called her poems “uncommonly correct.”77 In 1783 some of the poems from Lennox’s first publication were referred to as “juvenile productions [of] extraordinary merit.”78 The renowned Shakespeare editor Isaac Reed owned a copy of Poems, and the fact that the book sold for triple its cover price at an auction of his library can serve as evidence for Lennox’s fame.79

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Twenty-year-old Charlotte Lennox, formed by a transient and intercultural childhood, had become a well-known London poet. For better or for worse, she was now able to make her own way as a professional, a savvy worker in a fluctuating market. Her mother and sister would have been horrified by her intellectual public persona, yet it could have been Charlotte’s early competition for her mother’s affection that had inspired an impulse to reject conventional femininity and leave the domestic sphere. Her brother and her Scottish father would have been proud of her ability to play the hand she had been dealt and to capitalize on her resources. Having exchanged the frontiers of America for the Strand, Lennox had found a new community in the thriving London literary networks, which appreciated her modern tendency to question authority, her ability to shine a light on society’s thin veneer of civility, and her willingness to upend literary conventions with her independent mind. Within this community she would discover how to make a life through her tremendous aptitude for, and love of, reading and writing.

Chapter Three

Making a Trade of Her Wit Ages 21–2 1750–1

[F]illed with resentment for the injuries many of my sex have received from men, I embrace any opportunity that is offered me, to revenge their wrongs, and retaliate the pain they have given. (Harriot Stuart, 147)

In the four years after Poems was published, Lennox was emboldened by her new literary friends, and her literary projects multiplied. Her transient childhood and adolescence served to form a versatile mind that was especially adept at writing in a wide range of genres. In fact, financial need in effect allowed her to explore women’s possibilities from numerous angles. She performed again on the stage and seems to have balanced the writing of a popular novel, The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself, with translating a historical text, Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully, that same year. Her inspiration in these years in part came from her need to experiment, to explore the possibilities available to a woman who had a wandering nature and a compulsion to challenge the traditional. In both works we see how Lennox understood the twin challenges, earning enough money and being a woman who desired to publish; and she cleverly defused their destructive potentials. Turning to novel writing to try to work out the strange twists and turns of her own life was a useful strategy both for personal reflection and for her survival. Interpreting French and global history for an English audience also paid the bills, but even more satisfying was the way that it fed her scholarly interests, which included an attentiveness to the ethics of government. In these years Lennox began to grapple with the ideas of right action in both the public and the private sphere. In marrying Alexander, Lennox had hoped to find some measure of security. However, she ended up a newly married woman, without family and without

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much prospect of “proper” standing in her community. In some ways her transient childhood prepared her for, or made her more able to accept, her transient future. Lennox was married in the year that the anonymous The Art of Governing a Wife; With Rules for Batchelors (1747) was published. This conduct book advised wives to “lay up and save, look to the house, talk to few and take of all within.”1 Lennox did not see it that way, or maybe she did not have the luxury of domesticity. Necessity and character meant she did not limit her life to her home, nor did she follow the expected path after marriage of bearing children and subsequently filling her life with the tasks of caring for them. Instead of motherhood, she birthed a novel. The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written By Herself has been described as “her strong protest against a world in which … she knew herself to be a stranger.”2 In the novel, the fifteen-year-old Harriot Stuart travels to America and has unexpected adventures. Lennox’s move away from the respected genre of poetry and towards the more experimental, and less intellectual, genre of the novel was a daring step. Poetry held more clout in learned society, but novels – as the cutting-edge genre – attempted to represent real life. Lennox’s friend Samuel Johnson noted the novel’s divergence from traditional femininity and celebrated it by acknowledging its surrogate nature, calling it “her first literary child.” The road to becoming a novelist was paved with the good intentions of Len­ nox’s friends. One of them, who was never named, suggested that she “mak[e] some substantial advantages of that genius with which heaven had so liberally blessed her [and] a bookseller was accordingly found, who agreed to purchase”3 her novel. This friend could have been Thomas Birch, who may have had an opportunity to read the manuscript of Harriot Stuart and thought it worthy of publication. Birch’s association with Thomas Payne may have been the important connection Lennox needed to secure a publisher. However, the friend could have also been Alexander Lennox’s employer, the bookseller William Strahan, who had recently received a letter from Benjamin Franklin requesting books for colonists. Franklin explained that the colonists did not care about the moral uprightness of an author’s character; rather they read a text for its own merits. He also noted colonists’ indifference to the fashions, parties, and prejudices of Londoners. But most important to Lennox’s approach was that Franklin believed colonial readers wanted to read more accurate representations of themselves. Franklin writes, “the reflection [Pope] somewhere casts on the Plantations as if they had a relish for such writers as Ward only, is injurious.”4 Colonists were offended at Pope’s rendering of them as exclusively favouring writers like the popular Ned Ward, who responded to authors who had written on the New World in glowing terms with racy satires about Americans in A Trip to Jamaica (1687) and A Trip to New England (1699).

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Having lived there herself, Lennox was better equipped to present colonists not simply as flat characters in the English imagination. Consciously or not, she delivered on Franklin’s request. Lennox was addressing a market niche in both America and England, while ignoring the scorn she might receive from some of her mentors for writing a novel and publishing it. Lady Isabella Finch and Lady Mary Rockingham – like other aristocratic women of the time, including those in Elizabeth Montagu’s circle – were consumers of novels, but not public advocates of what many considered a dangerous genre and an immoral enterprise for women. Ignoring her mentors’ expectations of female behaviour, Lennox boldly presented narratives that represented familiar experiences for her; as a result, advertisements for her novels, and thus her name, appeared in the newspapers. She was quickly becoming a part of the rapidly changing London literary marketplace, one unfamiliar to Lady Isabella and Lady Mary, and engaging in an emerging authorial professionalism. Booksellers (in their roles as publishers in today’s parlance) had an increased importance, and Lennox did not dedicate her novel to a patron, even though this was still a common practice. She was swept up in this new mode of writing, the novel, which both explored a more realistic representation of human nature and questioned truth. As a free agent, Lennox would appeal to a much wider readership. Lennox’s impulse towards professionalization is one of her most distinguishing characteristics, a drive that would propel her not simply into popularity but into respected literary celebrity. Samuel Johnson believed that her career as an author was one of the qualities that made her “superior” to other women writers: she made the bold step of not only accepting payment for her works but also inserting her critical ideas, her wit, into wide circulation. When he later listed her among other respectable women authors, Elizabeth Carter, Hannah More, Frances Burney, and Elizabeth Montagu, the fact that Lennox “makes a trade of her wit” merited his highest praise.5 Johnson was in the minority in this belief that publishing distinguished a women writer. As an author who – with his Dictionary – had established himself professionally, he deeply appreciated the mettle it took for an author to put herself in such a public position. And he especially recognized the courage it took for a woman to risk public criticism through authorship. For most, women were essentially private: publication – laying oneself before the public through one’s words – challenged that construction, which meant that a woman author’s personal life would then be open to scrutiny. In contrast, male authors’ personal lives were of little importance to their literary success. With this double standard, male authorship did not require the trump card of “respectability.” In fact, male interest in publication was considered natural. For instance, two of the most famous novelists of the 1740s (and friends of Lennox’s), Henry Fielding and Samuel Richardson, were both public figures (Richardson ran a successful printing business, and

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Fielding was London’s chief magistrate and founded the first public employment office). However, for a woman writer, the descriptors “published” and “respectable” carried enormous significance. Women who wrote often and well, and who were worried about their social status, also worried about publishing. Thus, Lennox’s choice to pursue publication might have been considered by some as the first sign of her potential unworthiness. Since she had ventured into the public sphere, she was vulnerable to accusations of vanity. The second gauntlet would be how she conducted her personal life. If there were any doubt of her personal respectability, her writings – and thus her mind – would not be taken seriously. The Woman Novelist Lennox was motivated to write based on numerous factors. In addition to a strong need to express herself through public writing, she and Alexander also had financial concerns. She was the primary wage earner for the first half of their marriage, even though her husband had legal control of her publications. However, she did not let financial worries pressure her into writing salacious tales that would have turned a quicker income. Lennox’s contemporaries also felt the tension between finances and respectability. Laetitia Pilkington, who was twenty years older than Lennox, arrived in London just a few years before Lennox did. From an earlier generation of women writers, she was painfully aware that the minds of intelligent women were threatening to men, and thus they would be dismissed at any hint of sexual impropriety. I am sorry to say the generality of women who have excelled in wit have failed in chastity; perhaps it inspires too much confidence in the possessor, and raises an inclination in the men towards them, without inspiring an esteem; so that they are more attacked and less guarded than other women.6

Whether these women writers were in fact or only rumoured to be unchaste was immaterial; what was dangerous was showing off their intelligence. Pilkington’s exceptionally popular Memoirs struggled to find a publisher because her estranged husband worked to keep it from the public. In the same year, 1748, Teresia Constantia Phillips published her own memoir, An Apology for the Conduct of Mrs. Teresia Constantia Phillips. Its scandalous revelations, beginning with the fact that she was raped at thirteen, and its invitation to readers to judge Phillips’s case for themselves produced impressive sales and a pamphlet controversy. Rebuffed by publishers possibly fearing litigation, Phillips kept the copyright herself, became her own publisher, and sold copies out of her house. She retailed over eight thousand copies and earned gross proceeds estimated at over 2,400 pounds.7 However,

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her moral reputation was constantly challenged, as were the reputations of other literary women, such as Frances Anne Holles Vane (Lady Vane) and Charlotte Charke, for publishing their own memoirs.8 Not only were these women marked as vain for making their lives public, but the literary value of their writing was considered negligible. These women were living in London as Lennox was beginning her literary career, and it would not be surprising if she met one or all of them. In an effort to be viewed as a respected and professional author, however, she took care not to associate herself with them or their style of writing scandalous memoir. Instead, she maintained her public reputation with Harriot Stuart, a novel that carefully distanced itself from memoir. In its subtitle “Written by Herself” Lennox found a middle way by including details from her life, while still amply embellishing them in order to avoid incrimination and charges of vanity. Lennox was lucky that, if there were any to be found, no unsavoury facts about her surfaced. Having an upstanding reputation made daily life far easier. It also increased the likelihood that she would be considered intelligent. That is, for Lennox “reputation” was as much about her mind as it was about her body. She could have sacrificed her name, telling far more racy stories, such as her potential questionable contact with Lady Mary Rockingham’s son, Charles Wentworth, and earning profits as large as Phillips’s; instead she strategically chose to maintain her reputation and continue publishing for decades to come. When Lennox embarked on her novel-writing career, there were various models for what such a career might look like for a women, from the scandal-ridden Eliza Haywood to the more reputable Sarah Fielding and Sarah Scott. The novel, while being somewhat more respectable than the memoir, also suffered from questionable respectability; those who chose to publish in this genre, both men and women, expected some scorn from the most elite literary circles. Lennox was likely thinking of the best-known early women novelists, “the fair triumvirate of wit”9 Aphra Behn, Delarivier Manley, and Eliza Haywood, as she considered novel publication. They were consistently discounted as disreputable, because of their personal lives or for disreputable content, and thus unworthy of serious attention as authors.10 Thus Lennox was conscious of the fine line she needed to walk. She would have been familiar with the successful women novelists, Mary Collyer, Sarah Fielding, Charlotte McCarthy, and Sarah Scott, who were publishing in the years just before Harriot Stuart. However, they were all significantly older than she was, and thus less susceptible to personal scandal, when they embarked on novel publication.11 The best-known woman novelist of the 1740s, Eliza Haywood, had been publishing novels since 1719. Love in Excess is an intricate and fantastic tale, which along with Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver’s Travels is widely reported to have been the most popular English novel before 1740, although this statement has been

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recently contested.12 What is clear is that Haywood was wildly popular. Her early amatory novels feature unfortunate and fallen women. By mid-century, Haywood had written nearly fifty novels that offered titillating, even erotic, romance to a growing readership. But by the 1740s, Haywood had turned to a more didactic mode, with works such as The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless, published in the same year as The Life of Harriot Stuart. Clara Reeve, Lennox’s direct contempo­ rary and a canon-former at the end of the century, only approved of Haywood’s “second career,”13 when she began writing more conservative novels. Haywood’s earlier reputation was not forgotten, however; as late as 1750, Birch reported that Haywood “is still living here, in spite of Brandy and viler Liquours, & instructing us weekly in her Tatler and Xtian Philosopher.”14 As Betty Schellenberg notes, “Whether or not Birch is accurate in his aspersion, such a reputation suggests that Haywood was seen as a socially undesirable connection for a respectable literary professional. If Birch was fully aware of Haywood, his friends Lennox and Johnson surely were as well; it is equally likely that they did not visit.”15 Recent scholarship more carefully studies the facts of Haywood’s life, rather than the rumours.16 Because of these personal, and perhaps unfounded, attacks, Haywood even worried about how she would be remembered after death, making every effort to be sure that those closest to her would not speak about any “improper liberties”: “She laid a solemn injunction on a person who was well acquainted with all the particulars of [her life], not to communicate to anyone the least circumstance relating to her.”17 Haywood was on the defensive at least in part because of Alexander Pope’s personal attack on her in his poem The Dunciad, which was an assault on her “morals” inextricably linked to the novel form, “a maneuver that effectively positioned the poetic Eliza’s ‘babes of love’ as interchangeable metaphors for illegitimate children and illegitimate literary offspring.”18 Haywood was condemned in large part simply for the genre she chose and for publishing her words. Later, in discussing how women writers were so quickly perceived as not simply menacing but dangerous, Susan Gubar would critique the way “the female monster” was employed in Augustan satire.19 By mid-century Haywood was responding to these indictments in her novel Dalinda. Her 1749 preface, signed by her heroine, explains, My sole design, in the following pages, is to shew both sexes the Danger of unadvertently giving way to Passions of what kind so ever – all lead us into Error – all have a tendency to vice; and too frequently bring us by degree to do things to which our natures and Inclinations were at first most repugnant.

Here, Haywood explicitly denounces “giving way to Passions.” Yet, even while intending to avoid scandal, she was arrested for this publication because

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it fictionalized not only sexual scandal but also the site of an even more dangerous rumour mill, politics: the bigamous affair of Thomas Cresswell in late 1747, which was connected to the Young Pretender.20 Haywood again points to her didactic concerns in the 1751 preface to History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless, saying that with this novel she hopes to “inculcate into young girls all the imaginable precaution, in regard to their behavior toward those of another sex.” Yet in the same breath she simultaneously wonders about the method for communicating this: “I know not if it is not an error to dwell too much upon that topic.” Haywood was a realist. She knew that constant harping on the rules of courtship was dangerous as well. Lennox entered the literary marketplace near the end of Haywood’s career and followed her example of encouraging great caution in young women when it came to their interactions with men. Lennox also joined in this project with her contemporaries Sarah Fielding and Sarah Scott. Fielding had the support of her literary brother Henry and became a successful novelist in the 1740s. At age thirty-four, the unmarried Fielding, who along with her brother considered herself gentry, albeit of low rank,21 published her first instalment of The Adventures of David Simple (1744). Over the next eighteen years, she went on to publish ten works, eight of which were novels with strong didactic elements. Although Sarah had her brother’s support, she avoided public attention. She established her brand as “the Author of David Simple” but kept her private name separate from her public one until 1757, when she signed her name to her dedication of The Lives of Cleopatra and Octavia. She also put her own name on the title page in 1762 with her translation of Xenophon’s Socrates, but acknowledging authorship of a classical translation offered a woman author a higher status than the questionable fame that came with novel writing. The extent to which Fielding was personally involved in the publication of her works is unknown. Here was a model for Lennox of a female author who was successful and remained reputable, but she was more inclined to hide her identity behind anonymity. Sarah Scott, who was closest in age to Lennox, was likely furthest from her ideologically – she married the sub-preceptor to the Prince of Wales in 1752 and was extremely devout – yet she, too, could have served as a model for Lennox. Although Scott’s letters show her satirical bent, she suppressed much of this in her novels. Before she published, she was marked by scandal, separating from her husband. She therefore chose to shroud herself in secrecy and to erect barriers for those who “typically read female writing as a direct expression of an author’s personal and moral qualities.”22 Published in 1750, the same year as The Life of Harriot Stuart, Scott’s first novel, The History of Cornelia, highlights gender roles and the economic problems women face. It depicts a

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self-sacrificing young woman who serves as a pious role model.23 However, Scott did not put her name on any of her works, “cultivat[ing] obscurity” and “eschew[ing] fame.”24 In fact, she hid her publication from her father. She also thought that, because she wrote for money, her work had less value. Hers was a common attitude. Authors were not free to express themselves honestly if they needed to write for others. Yet Scott was dealing with two issues, the scorn of her intimates and the desire to tell the truth. Not having the pressure of family, Lennox was in fact much freer than Scott, and her genius was not constrained simply because she was not “rich in purse.” As if in response to the constrained circumstances of women writers that Scott’s career illustrates, Lennox tells women’s stories that show them functioning with strategic agency. It has been argued that Lennox wrote to an implied audience of “malleable women” about “self-sacrific[ing]” young heroines who possess “the understanding of constraint.”25 It has also been suggested that midcentury women writers “reinforce the idea that [women should be] properly subordinated to men and dependent upon male admiration and male protection.”26 Yet these descriptions do not fit Harriot, or the audience that Lennox addressed. Nor does Lennox herself “cede the highest peaks … of ambition” as an author, a twenty-first-century accusation against all mid-eighteenth-century women writers.27 In fact, Lennox’s ambition was boundless. Her own lower rank, as a gentlewoman without family who maintained an acceptable public persona, proved essential, since she was not beholden to any family member or concerned about potential loss of status. In addition, her need for an income prompted her to ignore pretensions and push herself forward, and as a result she revised the standard female protagonist. For example, rather than following the classical amatory trope of an innocent young woman who is deceived by a self-serving man, Lennox crafted heroines who avoid being trapped by men. In this new genre of fiction, Lennox could work out some of her own experiences, by fictionalizing a few certain facts. What’s more, she found a way to experiment with what was and what could be, without actually risking her reputation like her predecessors. Having arrived in London just in time to witness this shift from female writers being necessarily scandalous to the possibility of their being considered respectable, she was perfectly positioned as an outside observer who could use fiction as a mirror to the London world. She exploited the instability inherent in this new genre, “in order to imagine new ways of perceiving and inhabiting the world.”28 Beginning with her first novel, written before she was twenty-one years old, Lennox successfully combined public esteem, personal dignity, and publication: a recipe for an enlightened literary career. One of the ways she reached this goal was not to draw attention to her person, but rather to keep the public’s focus on her writing.

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Harriot (and Charlotte) By 1750, twenty-year-old Lennox had been married for just over two years. During these first few years of her marriage, she likely polished (or wrote in its entirety) The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself. Although the subtitle suggested an autobiographical reading, the practice of asserting the truth of a story was of course by the late 1740s a well-known fiction and marked a connection with Harriot Stuart’s wildly successful predecessor, Richardson’s Pamela (1740). Insistence on the authenticity of the people and events in the narrative generated excitement and had become an expectation of mid-century readers. Some critics argue that novelists reflect their experiences and society, others that they envision new circumstances. Either way, novelists concentrate on material that compels them, and in doing so they often imagine a kind of personal freedom. The plot that Lennox constructed for her novel, a young woman’s attempts to gain agency in a world of constraints, and the pursuit to publish this story, are evidence of how Lennox saw the power of the genre to free the writer herself from at least some of the social expectations at play. It would not be a stretch to assume that she wrote about what compelled her, that is, what perplexed and even enraged her. We cannot know what Lennox was thinking when she wrote Harriot Stuart; however, it does seem that she personally relished fiction’s ability to both capture the imagination and feel “true” to its readers. Her experiences in America were central to who she was. The New World was interesting to the English, and exotic lands had already been successfully invoked in Aphra Behn’s Oroonoko, Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, and Penelope Aubin’s Charlotta Du Pont. Thus, Lennox called upon facts from her own life as a young woman as anchors to her story and a way of convincing readers of the narrative’s authenticity. Then she let the story take on a life of its own. The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself details the adventures of a young girl, not yet fifteen, whose coming of age is marked by a journey with her family to America. Harriot is introduced as an ingenious and naive poet whose imaginative talent receives public praise and attracts young suitors. Her father appears to give her the freedom to choose her own husband, yet this “freedom” comes with many stipulations, primarily that he must be Protestant. Harriot is abducted by the deceptive Belmein early in the novel; courted by Maynard, whose considerable position and fortune procure her mother’s favour, but to whom Harriot has an “unalterable aversion”; and adored by the eternally constant Campbel, whom she neither loves nor hates and about whom she admits to feeling “a strange kind of pleasure in exercising a little tyranny over him.”29 Instead she falls in love with the Catholic Dumont, who proves just how honourable he is by refusing, at least for a long stretch, to convert simply for love. She proves her spirit, and more

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secular leanings, by not being concerned by his Catholicism. Yet, near the end of the novel, Harriot convinces Dumont to convert to make her parents happy and marries him. The novel is full of international adventure: Harriot finds herself in a Native American encampment, a New York fort, on the Hudson at midnight with a devout lover, aboard a Spanish privateer on the high seas, and in a Paris convent. She is extremely adept at defending herself in a variety of seemingly hopeless instances and overcomes complex obstacles, including having the choice of two honourable men, through sharp thinking and writing. The flirtatious but chaste Harriot is a powerful argument for the compatibility of intelligence, sexuality, and morality.30 Lennox combines Harriot’s independent spirit with decisive action. At every turn, she is faced with circumstances that seem to be conspiring against her. She is the victim of several abductions, yet she does not passively wonder what to do. Instead, unlike many of her predecessor female heroines, she avoids wasting time lamenting her ill fate and creates a plan to solve her dilemma. When her parents are determined that she marry Maynard, Harriot designs a “wild and elaborate” scheme, which involves falling at her father’s feet at the moment in the ceremony when she is expected to agree and begging him not to “force me to be the wife of a man my soul detested.”31 In the end, “providence interposed,” which also puts her in danger, since she is abducted by Belmein. This turn of events gives Harriot an opportunity to prove her ability both to think and to act quickly. During the abduction she realizes that she has no hope of escaping the erratic Belmein, except through her wits. She explains that the “pride and resentment had so well fortified my heart, that, in the resolution I had taken to abandon him for ever, I felt at present no other pain than what the fear of not accomplishing [her plan to escape] occasioned.”32 So she feigns compliance with him, convincing him that she really does love him, and then asks only for some time to rest. She waits for daylight and slips out of the house alone. However, the most spectacular escape occurs when she fends off an attempted rape, dealing the captain of the ship sailing back to England “a serious blow with his own short sword.”33 As much as Lennox avoided attention to her personal life, this novel does have many parallels34 that cannot be ignored, not least when we consider the timing of its creation in the late 1740s, just after she had left America, struggled with female friendship, found a kind of independence, and chosen to marry against the wishes of her guardians. The similarities between Harriot’s tale and Charlotte’s life include numerous actual people represented in characters, specific events in the colonies of Albany and Schenectady, and shared personal traits between Harriot and Charlotte. First, the familial relationships of Lennox and her protagonist are quite similar. Harriot’s grandfather is the vice treasurer of Ireland, her uncle “was, in the reign

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of King William, made chaplain-general and judge advocate of the fleet,” and her father “married a lady of considerable family in Ireland.”35 Lennox’s grandparents were also Irish, her uncle was also chaplain general and judge advocate of the Fleet during King William’s reign, and her mother was a descendant of the well-known Irish Scarborough family. Fierce, fatherless Harriot is a convincing rebel against her mother. She and Lennox adore their fathers, consider their mothers well-bred but self-involved, love their only brothers, and are quite distanced from their only sisters. Also, both Harriot’s and Charlotte’s mothers disapprove of their daughters’ love for reading and writing. Harriot refers to her strained relationship with her mother several times, and Lennox, using the eidolon “The Trifler,” discusses her similarly troubled maternal bond in the Lady’s Museum. Both have military fathers and find themselves in England without any family. Each has an aunt from Essex who is supposed to care for her but is stricken with grief at the death of a son and therefore can no longer be her guardian. However, their resourceful natures supply them with both companionship and the basic necessities of life, while their thoughtful characters save their reputations from repeated threats. As a result of her ability to balance feeling and responsibility, Harriot, now twenty, Lennox’s age when she published this novel, is joined with a man considered inappropriate by those around her – as we know, some in Lennox’s circle objected to her husband Alexander. Finally, her Dumont, like Charlotte’s Alexander, has trouble holding a job and keeping money in his wallet. Just like Lennox, Harriot goes to New York to live in Albany as a young girl, and they both develop an affection for America. When Harriot catches sight of New York for the first time from the boat, she muses, “I stood some moments contemplating [the city] with great pleasure.” Her suitor Dumont observes that “you seem to feel nothing but pleasure at your nearer approach to it.” She, in turn, is surprised by his lack of excitement and reproaches him for having “so little affection for the place that gave you birth.”36 For Harriot, America represents the new, the different, the undiscovered. It is the place where she will grow up. Harriot embraces America more closely than any other female character during the mid-eighteenth century and is less anxious to get back to her native England. Perhaps Samuel Johnson recognized Lennox in Harriot Stuart when he called the novel her “literary child.” As her “daughter,” the spirited young Harriot, in fact, mirrors Lennox’s own sharp-edged, risk-taking personality. Harriot is not only full of “cunning,” but she is also equipped with wit, learning, and good judgment. She does not easily fall into common categories, such as “the seduced,” “the reformed,” or “the romance heroine,” assigned to heroines of eighteenthcentury novels.37 For both Harriot and Charlotte, Plato, Homer, and Pope were welcome consolations. The young women’s early experiences prompt them to seek out reading

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and writing as a means of making sense of the wide world around them, and both begin writing at an early age. Harriot declares, “I was scarce past my infancy, when I applied myself to reading with such an eager solicitude, as amazed everyone who was concerned in my education.”38 And, as we know, Charlotte was believed to have begun writing poetry when she was very young. Harriot too is a poet, and her verses occasionally come from Lennox’s own poetry, again signalling the connection between Harriot and Charlotte.39 Harriot, like Lennox, is not like other young women, which is also a source of loneliness. Harriot laments “the brittle tye” of female friendships. She announces, Is there anything more frail than female friendships? A conformity of temper, an equal attachment to some darling foible first cements them; a trifle, as invaluable, dissolves the brittle tye: pardon me this observation, ’tis but too just, and will admit of very few exceptions.40

These lines show a longing for friendship among equals and express a feeling of difference from other women that Lennox had already explored in her poems. Lennox reprints “To Delia” from Poems on Several Occasions in Harriot Stuart, portraying her Harriot as an “uncommon woman” alone with her books, beneath a cypress’ spreading shade … Repeating Pope’s harmonious lays: Now Homer’s awful leaves turn o’er, Or graver history explore; Or study Plato’s sacred page, Uncommon to our sex and age.41

Each behaviour that Harriot’s friends find offensive, she considers a mere “trifle,” which can instantly dissolve that initial “conformity of temper.” This portrayal of female friendships and their pitfalls is reminiscent of Lennox’s rift with Lady Isabella and Lady Mary, her letters to Johnson, her publishers, and her husband, along with contemporary anecdotes concerning her, where we see a woman resentful of the restrictions placed on her. In being vivacious, feisty, and earnest, Lennox and her protagonist have similar personalities – willing to break with social conventions and desiring some sense of control over their future. Lennox’s female connections would have insisted on strict standards of behaviour, standards that she considered either constraining, given her years in a more diverse environment, or unattainable without substantial financial means. It is curious that after her warm dedication to Isabella Finch in Poems on Several

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Occasions, Lennox wrote no dedication for Harriot Stuart, perhaps signalling their estranged relationship. Also, some thought she was directly insulting Lady Isabella (whose full name was Cecilia Isabella) with the very self-interested character Lady Cecilia, who causes Harriot to be sceptical of “the promises of the great.”42 Indeed, the incensed Lady Mary Wortley Montagu suggested that Charlotte was extraordinarily ungrateful. When she discovered Lennox’s potential reference to her friend, she wrote to a friend: I was roused into great surprise and indignation by the monstrous abuse of one of the very few women I have a real value for, I mean Lady B.F. [i.e., Lady Isabella, or Belle, Finch]; who is not only clearly meant by the mention of the library (she being the only lady at court that has one), but her very name at length, she being christened Cecilia Isabella, though she chooses to be called by the latter. I always thought her conduct irreproachable, I did not think she had an enemy on earth; I now see ’tis impossible to avoid them, especially in her situation. It is one of the misfortunes of a supposed court interest (perhaps you may know it by experience), even the people you have obliged hate you, if they do not think you have served to the utmost extent of a power they fancy you are possessed of; which it may be is only imaginary.43

Of course, Lennox’s intentions in creating the character of Lady Cecilia will probably never be confirmed. However, if the allusion is indeed autobiographical, Lennox perceived Lady Isabella as controlling. “Lady Cecilia, resolving no one should interpose in an affair she had taken the management of, prevented any solicitations for a provision from the government for me, by declaring, in all companies, she would procure me an establishment herself.”44 If this did indeed happen to young Charlotte, the rift between them seems understandable. Lennox boasted of her own strong character and was proud of her candour. Some years later, she wrote about herself, “It is true, that when I praise, it is with warmth – with a kind of enthusiasm; such is my natural temper; but I mean what I say, and it is well worth a life of habitual sincerity, to purchase the pleasure of being believed when one gives vent to the effusions of one’s heart.”45 Sometimes shrewd and sometimes simply charming, Lennox valued these qualities in herself and gave them to her protagonist. Harriot controls her own life and willingly displays her true emotions. She also invariably manages to reverse potentially tragic situations by exerting control herself and expressing her feelings freely, without fear of public admonishment. Lennox gives Harriot qualities similar to the ones she mentions in her letter to describe herself: “my style was rather too warm and passionate for one of my years.”46 Both Lennox’s and Harriot’s stubborn pride marks them as precocious and nonconforming to their peers. Lennox’s “life of habitual sincerity” was her blessing and her curse.

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Quite in opposition to Richardson’s heroine Pamela, who is good mostly because she remains chaste, Lennox’s Harriot receives a seal of approval in spite of, or because of, her overt quest for independence. Harriot thrives on journeys and exploits: she describes horseback riding as “one of the few luxuries of life two hundred miles north of the capital,” and would never have believed good girls do not have adventures or “histories.” During her courtship, a time Richardson refers to as “the time of [her] power,”47 Harriot spends extended time reflecting on her own development as a young woman. In courtship she maintains a sense of her own dignity and agency, renounces societal mandates and the wishes of her parents, and marries her true love, an honourable man who cherishes her. When she and Dumont are surprisingly reunited at the end of the novel, “[e]ven the presence of my mother [could not] put any restraint on [our transports].” Lennox concludes Harriot’s story with the female heroine entirely in control of her fate. The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself, then, is the story of a successful female life, her well-negotiated entrance into the world and her mastery of its boundaries. A Pioneering Novel Although details from Lennox’s life, as well as her attitudes about gender and difference and her uniqueness as a woman author, are crucial to telling her story, Harriot Stuart’s pioneering nature and its function as a form of social protest also deserve significant attention. Lennox was the “first American novelist,” a title bestowed on her by Gustavus Maynadier in 1940. Then, in 1967, Philippe Séjourné followed up this claim with a detailed study of Lennox in colonial America. Although these assertions were made many decades ago, only recently has American literary scholarship taken them seriously. If the definition of the “first American novelist” is someone who lived in America, set her novel in America, and treated American subject matter, then Lennox shares this with Edward Kimber’s 1750 The History of the Life and Adventures of Mr. Anderson.48 Thus, she made an important contribution to the history of not just the British but the American novel. It has even been argued recently that Lennox’s novel is the “true originator of the Western,” a genre of American literature which was previously thought to have been pioneered by James Fenimore Cooper’s 1826 Last of the Mohicans.49 The Western celebrates frontier landscape, opportunity for self-transformation, and a process of creolization; that is, how individuals “creatively adapt” to life on the frontier and close contact with those of other racial, ethnic, and cultural backgrounds. The setting of the geographical West is in fact irrelevant to this definition.50 Cooper’s novel, like Lennox’s, is set in the eastern United States. Surprisingly, “the most masculine and ‘American’ of genres, turns out to be a proto-feminist narrative created by a … British colonial woman.”51 With Harriot Stuart, Lennox is one of the earliest

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participants in “the complex transatlantic circulation of persons, texts, and stories.”52 Rather than a masculine story that celebrates force, domination, and masculine identity, Lennox’s “Western” offers a female heroine who draws attention to “the savagery in European possessive patriarchy”53 and how the English can be changed by their encounters with America. This understanding of Harriot Stuart adds significantly to Lennox’s reach as a successful author and again demonstrates her ability to straddle cultures. In creating a heroine who criticizes social hierarchy abroad, Lennox offers a more palatable forum for discussing individual agency. Although she wrote about America, she published in London, and her audiences were both American and English. Her first novel, which depicted parents who say they won’t coerce their daughter into an undesired marriage (but still exert pressure on her decision), offered a response to the popular English novels of her day such as Pamela, Clarissa, and Tom Jones. Critic Paula Backscheider argues that many novels responded to and critiqued Richardson’s and Fielding’s representations of female agency: “Richardson deflected attention from the problem of how women might achieve happiness and what they might demand of men and marriage … [Clarissa] spawned as many revisionary texts as imitative ones by women, and a detailed study of the resistances and rewriting within them is overdue.”54 Reviewers were quick to compare Harriot to Clarissa. As soon as Harriot Stuart was published, one reviewer noted, “Harriot’s misfortunes … were borne with the patience and … penn’d with the purity of a Clarissa.” Although her misfortunes are more fantastic, Harriot equals Clarissa in the unbelievable number of adversities she faces. However, she responds to her kidnapper with greater force and action. When Belmein kidnaps Harriot, like Clarissa, she incisively argues that his violation of her will is her primary reason for scorning him. Even though she is still physically attracted to him, she tells him that her reputation is infinitely dearer to her than either her own life or his. Harriot tells Belmein that she is capable on her own of avoiding marriage to Maynard. That is, she resists being seen as the damsel in distress. Still, her concern that “the world would be severe on her reputation” illustrates Harriot’s recognition that she must walk a tenuous tightrope between conformity and rebellion. However, in contrast to Richardson’s more passive protagonist, Harriot is rebellious and impatient. Her clever actions allow her to escape from Belmein near the onset of the narrative, by feigning compliance and slipping away early in the morning, and proceed through a narrative in which she is far more in control than Clarissa of her own outcome. Lennox may have used Richardson’s text as a narrative model, but she dramatically differs from him by framing female morality as a more active endeavour. Harriot brashly responds to her mother’s matchmaking by exclaiming, “Suffer me, madam, to expostulate with you upon your cruelty.”55 Here, Lennox seems to be

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drawing from her unique early life and her sceptical view of the expectations of her community. She does not include Richardsonian moralizing in her tale, but offers her readers a lively, penetrating and spontaneous character instead, “a living composition … far above all the nonentities that crowd most of the female writing of the rest of the century.”56 Lennox writes Harriot as a picaresque heroine, who lives by her wits in a corrupt society. In that sense, she is a sort of female Tom Jones, the popular protagonist constructed by Fielding in the same years. Tom Jones was published in February 1749 and Harriot Stuart in December 1750. Tom is a young man who is also naive, inherently ethical, and misunderstood, while making every effort to manifest good. Both Harriot and Tom experience life as a series of adventures; and, like Tom, Harriot has an aversion to keeping up the appearances expected of a certain class. Their honesty, capriciousness, and eccentricity slowly draw the reader to their entertainingly mischievous side. In Harriot Stuart, Lennox teaches her readers how much her respected heroine and this new male celebrity have in common. She celebrates a heroine who admits to being a coquette, willingly runs the risk of numberless adventures, and stirs up male passions. Though Richardson had condemned these characteristics, Fielding’s Tom Jones flirts with attractive women, ventures recklessly far from a secure future, engages in sexual dalliances, and is admired for his rejection of common male conduct, in his case gallantries. Harriot has no liaisons, but like Tom she rejects the qualities expected of her sex, in this case victimhood. As Lennox’s first protagonist, Harriot Stuart became a model for those that followed. Lennox’s desire for parity again and again indicates her interest in challenging the status quo of gender relations. Without excuse or shame, Harriot jumps out of carriages, flees in disguise, complains that declarations of love often make her feel imprisoned,57 feels liberated when left to her own reflections,58 and regularly demands that her esteem be considered. Early in the novel she is incensed when Belmein comes to take control of her. She declares that he is quite arrogant for assuming that she would approve of his behaviour,59 with full confidence believes that she alone can save herself from marrying Maynard,60 and cannot be subdued by his practice of “every tender and ensnaring art” that seems to snag so many young women’s minds in novels.61 This independent attitude manifests itself in her desire to control men, who normally assume that they can control her. When she realizes her power over the English captain’s nephew, Mr Campbel, Harriot proudly announces that that “little tyranny” she exerts over him thrills and empowers her.62 Although readers might feel compassion for Campbel, Harriot readily takes the upper hand in their relationship as it is beginning to develop. She grows to respect Campbel as she begins to understand his genuine esteem for her interests and wishes.

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However, in the end Harriot marries the man she is truly in love with, Dumont. Her powers of understanding and persuasion are ultimately demonstrated as she persuades Dumont to convert to Protestantism. Her sister Fanny confirms the moral of the story by telling their mother: “It seldom happens … that a parent’s authority is necessary to oblige a young lady to marry the man she loves; but Harriot is an extraordinary girl, and every thing that concerns her must be out of the common way, so, mamma, I hope you will compel her to marry Dumont whom she loves so much.”63 Like Lennox herself, although Harriot does have a passing interest in her parents’ wishes, she still is decisive, takes action, resists a large degree of social control, and ultimately marries for love. Harriot does not have the “anxiety … about loss of esteem”64 that has been asserted about heroines of the eighteenth century. She not only values and takes advantage of her independence, but she also expects to be respected. Both of the most significant male figures in Harriot’s life admire her and approve of her assertions about a young woman’s agency. Her father congratulates her on her scheme to get away from Belmein and promises to “love and esteem her for as long as [he] lives,” and her brother praises her “uncommon prudence” as well as “that noble pride in you that would exalt you so far above the rest of your sex.”65 Harriot does not lack confidence, nor does she regard her position as a young woman in the world as a reason to shrink from challenges. In contrast to critic Jane Spencer’s analysis of the eighteenth-century heroine, whose “virtue involved not only chastity, but by implication, submissiveness and self-abnegation,”66 Harriot, although she maintains her virginity, is neither submissive nor self-abnegating. Lennox creates a heroine who – although she does make mistakes as a result of her ignorance of the world and herself – is “ever active in defense of [her] own values, and [a] powerful advocate of [her] own self worth.”67 Harriot is not only quick when it comes to physical action, but she also has a sharp mind for repartee. Nuns praise her for her understanding when she resists their attempts to convert her, and literary men are befuddled by her ability to amuse herself at their expense. “The bent of Harriot’s inclinations to intellectual improvements” manifests itself in her skills as an incisive reader and a provocative writer. Harriot’s life is dominated by books, pens, and paper; as mentioned above, she begins writing when she is “scarce past [her] infancy.” She sees her literacy as a catalyst to early maturity and describes her literary interests to her friend Amanda as directly responsible for her adventures: “I had a heart so formed to receive tender impressions, that it was impossible I could long remain in a state of insensibility. I became, my dear Amanda, in love at eleven years old; and to that inspiring passion my muse first owed its existence.”68 Thus, she connects learning with personal growth. Her brother, who is her primary teacher, helps her to further form her mind through argument.

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My brother … took my part; he could not bear to check my genius, by restraining it from an amusement, which under his regulation, was far from corrupting my mind. It is certain, that he lost no opportunity of improving my morals, as well as my understanding: he instilled an early love for virtue into my soul; and as I grew older, the strength and beauty of his arguments, fixed that principle so deeply in my heart, that no trials, no distresses, nor all the softening power of love, were ever able to erase it.69

Rather than simply acquiescing to her moral duty of maintaining her chastity and accepting the other obligations of her sex, Harriot’s brother takes her mind seriously. Similar to Lennox’s own brother, he sees her natural understanding. In fact, Harriot’s brother’s recognition of her intellectual powers precludes his attempt to instruct her in morals. Intellectual development comes first, and upright behaviour springs from it. One way in which Harriot’s brother discovers her intelligent mind is through her writing. Lennox does not blindly endorse women’s writing; she suggests that writing is powerful both for good and for ill. Inspired by her love for Dumont, and trying to cope with the fact that she is forbidden to actually pursue this relationship, Harriot “employed her pen, so much on the subject of love” and in a style “too warm and passionate for one of my years.” This poem becomes “the first cause of one of the most cruel adventures of my life,” the attempted rape.70 Still, overall Lennox primarily portrays Harriot’s writing as a skill that is much more likely to provide her a better life than to cause her problems, especially after she learns to use it more wisely. Reading and writing are in fact her means of coping. At several important junctures Harriot uses her pen and her intellect to comfort herself. When she is sexually assaulted by Belmein, she assuages her anxieties by reading – fully dressed – for the rest of the night; her writing abilities are the main reason that she is able to escape the convent in which Dumont’s uncle has locked her; and her poetry gains her attention, which she attributes to “youth and sex,” which “stamped a kind of unquestionable merit on my writing.”71 Harriot understands that her writing is quite unusual. Thus, she writes to attract and to dismiss, to impress and to offend, to express emotion, and to moralize. In fact, writing is the very fount out of which all aspects of life spring. Lennox sees writing as not only essential to abundant living but also the fundamental force for change. As an increasingly legitimate genre, Lennox believed in the power of writing and saw how the novel offered a forum for challenging authority, for investigating the situation of women and their relationships both with men and with other women. Many sought to reform women through religion, but Lennox did not linger on that issue in her writing. Instead, she used the novel as a form of social protest. Lennox’s novel was likely doing the work of moral reform more effectively than most sermons. In revealing the self-interest of adults who pretended to care

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for Harriot and the deceptive nature of several suitors, she powerfully shows how vulnerable young women were in not just a patriarchal but a strict hierarchical system. In creating Harriot she fleshed out a virtuous, intelligent woman who also had agency and respect. The Public Life of Harriot Stuart Lennox was unusually at ease in the male business environment. As an adept businesswoman, she wrote comfortably to men whom she could interest in helping her promote her career as an author. Even at this early point at twenty years old, Lennox had the attention of important figures; and Sir John Hawkins noted that even this early in her professional life she was “a lady now well known in the literary world.”72 By 1750, Lennox had made connections with booksellers John Payne, who published Harriot Stuart, and Andrew Millar, who would help her gain exposure to sell her next novel.73 By 1750 Lennox and Samuel Johnson were most certainly colleagues (and likely friends), after having corresponded about the publication of her first novel.74 In a letter to Johnson, Lennox inquired about the progress of the plan hatched with the help of Edward Cave and Payne to market Harriot Stuart.75 They were proposing a subscription edition of Poems on Several Occasions, which would create more interest in this new author Charlotte Lennox. Payne had a hunch about the potential success of Lennox’s first novel. Just two months before he published Harriot Stuart, he enlisted Strahan to print one thousand copies of “Proposals”76 for a new edition of Lennox’s Poems. He must have believed that, with the novel’s success, audiences would be interested in reading, or returning to, Lennox’s first literary venture. Although this new edition of Poems probably never appeared, the initiative shows Lennox’s early public orientation. She also used her poems in significant ways, both to market her writing throughout her career77 and as poems, included in the novel, that are written by her fictional character Harriot. The marketing campaign for Harriot Stuart began in the Gentleman’s Magazine in November 1750, just one month before the novel was published.78 Here Lennox received nearly two pages of recognition, beginning with “To Mrs. Charlotte Lennox; On Reading her Poems.” This panegyric, which praises Lennox’s writing skill, is followed by her poem “The Art of Coquetry,” which was chosen from the twenty-nine poems in her first collection, Poems, which, as we have seen, demonstrates her fiery personality and equally fiery pen. The word coquette at this time was used to describe a woman who could match a man in conversation and wit. Although the term leaned towards the sexual, it did not describe a scandalous woman. Lennox’s poem reminds young girls of their power to dictate the course of romance in their own lives. Inserted in the pages of Cave’s Gentleman’s

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Magazine, this poem was intended to spark the interest of potential novel readers who were drawn to less traditional plots and to unique female characters. Revisions to word choice in “Art of Coquetry” from the 1747 version reveal Lennox’s awareness that the poem would be used to advertise her talents. Just after “The Art of Coquetry” in the Gentleman’s Magazine, Lennox’s “The Birthday Ode to the Princess of Wales,” signed by “Mrs. Charlotte Lennox,” appears. This poem was presented to Princess Augusta, mother to twelve-year-old George, later George III, who became a supporter of Lennox.79 Lennox’s poem highlights “Britain’s future queen,” who has a “bright … mind, [which] grace[s] the world’s chief regal seat.” Lennox points out the Princess’s noble position, but is careful to make clear that it is not her nobility that makes her a national treasure – rather, her value is in her intellect. The advertising efforts in the Gentleman’s Magazine paid off: Strahan printed a thousand copies80 of the novel for Payne and Joseph Bouquet, and on 13 December The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself was advertised for five shillings in the Whitehall Evening Post, the London Evening Post, and the General Advertiser. Several newspapers noted that the two volumes were beautifully printed and bound in calf.81 After the publication of her first novel, Lennox was perhaps surprised when her friend Samuel Johnson organized a celebratory reception. Johnson was twenty-six when he came to London for the first time in 1735, and he understood what it meant to be alone in the big city with literary aspirations in a fledging literary marketplace. His name was often not attached to his titles,82 the crowded hack work of Johnson’s early and middle thirties.83 Both he and Lennox first published poetry before embarking on wide-ranging literary careers. Johnson succeeded by anonymously publishing the long poem “London” three years after he had arrived, just as Lennox’s Poems had appeared three years after she came to London. Johnson complained that Elizabeth Carter, whom he greatly admired, was “too reserved in conversation upon subjects she was so eminently able to converse upon, which was occasioned by her modesty and fear of giving offence,”84 so he valued women who shared their ideas outside of domestic settings. In these early years of his career he especially appreciated women with both intelligence and ambition. Just a year or two before he met Lennox, he published The Life of Savage, a sympathetic account of his eccentric literary friend Richard Savage. In this assessment of Savage’s difficult life, Johnson showed how he valued the kind of “virtue” that was separate from power, a virtue that involved taking responsibility and learning from one’s mistakes. In having a sharp mind and extraordinary aspirations, but little initial support, Lennox shared a plight with Savage. Just a year before Harriot Stuart, Johnson’s third publication appeared, Vanity of Human Wishes. The first edition was not a financial success and only earned him fifteen guineas, but future critics considered it the greatest poem in the English language.85

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Johnson, who had recently contracted to compile his Dictionary, recognized Lennox’s skills, as well as the “accidents of [her] life,” and could have been thinking of Lennox when he explained the qualities of “the new realistic novel” on 30 March 1750 in a Rambler essay. He wrote, “The task of our present writers is very different; it requires together with that learning which is to be gained from books, that experience which can never be obtained from solitary diligence, but must arise from general converse, and accurate observation of the living world.”86 Lennox certainly had diverse experiences with “the world” from an early age. Around this time, she and Johnson lived near one another just north of Fleet Street, in the heart of the neighbourhood of booksellers and printers: she at Plow Court, and he with his wife, Tetty, at Gough Square. At the celebration that might be characterized as Lennox’s book launch, Johnson’s extraordinary enthusiasm for Lennox’s more bold personality and her authorship, and his giddiness at her success, mark a powerful, and an often-quoted, moment in her rise to fame as a novelist. In the Devil’s Tavern, Johnson arranged all-night festivities where the majority of the twenty or so in attendance partook in an elegant dinner and a “magnificent hot apple pie,” which Johnson had instructed be stuck with bay leaves to symbolize Lennox’s literary skill. Hawkins’s original account documents Johnson’s excitement about Lennox’s “first literary child.” To honour her, “he had prepared for her a crown of laurel, with which, but not till he had invoked the muses by some ceremonies of his own invention, he encircled her brows.”87 This would not be the last time that Lennox was associated with the muses. Johnson, who later wrote about the favourable reception of “our Charlotte’s book,”88 and his friends gave Harriot Stuart loud applause. This rowdy event, which did not suffer from the fact that most of the attendees “had deserted the colours of Bacchus” (had remained sober), still lasted late into the night, and the waiters were overcome with sleep. The soirée, which was quite rare for a woman at mid-century, secured Lennox in the minds of many of Johnson’s intimates as “one of Johnson’s favorites.” The sobriety of the event, at which Johnson was thought to have only drunk lemonade, was likely the product of Lennox’s gender. Still, Johnson’s face “shone with meridian splendour,”89 suggesting that this was an important evening for him, as well. His friend was becoming a literary star. The first published responses to Harriot Stuart, which appeared in the Gentleman’s Magazine in December 1750 and January 1751, praised Lennox for her ability to balance the most valued qualities of good writing, an exciting plot and a moral message. This reviewer recognized that Lennox intended to present a strong protagonist, who, like Richardson’s virtuous protagonists, Pamela and Clarissa, would also be recognized as a model for young women. Another, writing in the Monthly Review, declared it a singularly outstanding novel. “We may safely venture

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to pronounce her work to be the best in the novel way that has been lately published.” Lennox’s style and realism were especially commended. However, some reservations were expressed about its value to literature as a whole, for offering “nothing great, or noble, or useful or entertaining. Here are no striking characters, no interesting events, nor in short anything that will strongly fix the attention, or greatly improve the morals of the reader.” The reviewer is Ralph Griffiths, founder of the magazine in which it was published and a publisher in his own right.90 Griffiths’s comments demonstrate his competing expectations of wanting both the readers’ “attentions” to be “strongly fixed” and wanting bland didacticism to prevail. Attentions were indeed fixed in 1748, two years before Harriot Stuart, when Griffiths published the first original English prose pornography. John Cleland’s Fanny Hill; or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure was not a novel that would have been thought by most to “greatly improve the morals of the reader.” Perhaps in his criticism of Harriot Stuart Griffiths wanted to appear personally chaste by distancing himself from any hint of lascivious narrative. Or perhaps he saw Harriot Stuart as competition. Griffiths mostly promoted his own publications in the Monthly Review, not those of other booksellers.91 A January 1751 Gentleman’s Magazine poem titled “Advice to the Novice in Love. Occasion’d by reading the Art of Coquetry, by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox”92 confronted this “moral” problem with greater concern. In it, “honest wretches” are warned off “Charlotte’s pen.” Some readers did not consider young Harriot an example of moral prudence, even though she was ultimately willing to marry the man her mother had chosen for her and assist in Dumont’s conversion to Protestantism. However, Lennox’s decision to provide an escape for Harriot, so that she does not have to marry the good Mr Campbel, was not considered the most “noble” narrative approach. Some readers expected a more compliant female protagonist. Although the reviews were mostly favourable, Harriot Stuart was still subjected to the debates surrounding what constituted a “good” novel.93 Was it breaking new ground? Was its heroine too rebellious for 1750? These are the questions that dominate the discussion of Harriot Stuart’s real mark on literary history, as the reviewers had to contend with expectations about what literature, and specifically this developing genre, should do. Many thought the novel should primarily teach good morals. Others, like Johnson, thought it should be more realistic, showing both the positive and negative sides of humanity. Fielding’s Tom Jones faced similar criticism. Earlier in the century, narratives that portrayed exciting adventures were valued, but after Richardson the moral, sentimental, and psychological reactions of the heroine were considered of primary interest. With this belief that the novel should teach young people a profitable lesson – or at least cause them no harm – Harriot’s story inspired some hesitation regarding its “value.” It is not surprising,

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given her allegiance to Lady Isabella, that Lady Mary Wortley Montagu found Harriot Stuart problematic. For her taste, Harriot Stuart possessed “marvelous figures and exhibits,” that is, extravagant characters; and she was distracted by plots that did not correspond with her own concept of what was “realistic.” However, she still admitted to reading the novel voraciously. She is in fact an example of a moral reader of 1750s fiction who fixated on representing “proper” femininity and thus charged flirtatious, manipulative girls with conspiring against the established system. She understood that Lennox must have intended Harriot as “an example of wit and virtue,” but she still considered her “a jilt and a fool in every page.” She believed that Lennox drew “unconvincing depictions of ideal virtue” and that her “efforts at verisimilitude and moralizing were crude.”94 How much her opinion of the novel correlated with her belief that being paid for writing was “contemptible” is unclear.95 However, Lady Mary’s mixed reaction to Lennox’s writing shows the ways in which Lennox likely had difficulties with female friendships and with her contemporary women writers. Although most of the reviews were positive, Lennox was surprised that every reviewer did not unrestrainedly praise her first novel. In fact, she was enraged by the lack of appreciation for her efforts. John Hawkins tells of Lennox going to the home of John Payne, her publisher, intent on complaining about her novel’s less than fully enthusiastic reception. However, Payne was not home, and his mother was left to receive the brunt of her wrath. According to Laetitia Matilda Hawkins’s report of her father’s description of this incident, Lennox assailed the lady with the eloquence that was intended for her son. The old crone … cried out for quarter in the moving plea that she “knew nothing and was a plain old woman.” Charlotte … indignantly turned away, repeating, “Plain enough! God knows!”96

If this story is true, it serves as an example of Lennox’s potential fury. This profound frustration at not being understood could not be contained, and her inability to restrain herself was thought unattractive and impolite. Lennox might also have been enraged about the small amount paid to first-time novelists for their manuscripts, from around half a guinea per volume97 to ten to twenty pounds.98 These sums would have been equivalent to the weekly salary of a printer or the annual salary of a housekeeper.99 However, it is also possible that Lennox could have received more. Henry Fielding received from Payne 183 pounds 11 shillings for Joseph Andrews (1742), 600 pounds for Tom Jones (1749) – and an additional 100 pounds upon its success – while 1,000 pounds was given for Amelia (1751).100 Samuel Paterson, the bookseller of Poems, explained the variability. He addressed the fact that an author’s payment still sometimes came from wealthy patrons and thus no records were left, and we are reminded that

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some of Lennox’s income could have come from a combination of booksellers and the goodwill of wealthy friends. “Some rich lords … have given five guineas to a poor author; others ten – some twenty, others thirty – and here and there a modern Maecenas has stretched even to fifty guineas!”101 This degree of variation in payment made an author’s life especially difficult. Lennox’s temper in her confrontation with her publisher’s mother might lead us to conclude that she was angry about not being paid by Payne nearly what she had expected. Her determination to advocate for her own work and her frustration with an unjust economy are palpable. It also suggests that Lennox at this juncture was not able to regulate herself at crucial moments. However, the mixed reviews were only one part of the story of Harriot Stuart – in spite of whatever moral insufficiencies some reviewers noted, Lennox’s audiences did not dismiss her first novel out of hand. Perhaps, the reviewers’ reactions illustrated the difference between the world of her English readers and that of the novel’s protagonist. In the freer society of New York, Lennox’s first novel would have likely been more of a success. Although the novel satisfied Franklin’s call for more realistic depictions of America, Lennox did not get to witness the reaction of American readers. However, we know of its popularity because records show its existence in several circulating libraries in South Carolina, Virginia, and Boston.102 In England Lennox eventually had to acknowledge quietly that Harriot Stuart was not her readers’ top choice, never marketing her books as “by the author of Harriot Stuart.” Still, English readers did not entirely lose interest in Lennox’s first novel. As proof of the novel’s popularity (or perhaps as a marketing tactic), in May 1751, one thousand title pages were printed. Title pages were often used as advertisements posted outside of local dealers’ shops. Harriot Stuart also was reprinted in Dublin that same year. In July 1762 another set of title pages was printed.103 Nine years later, in 1771, a new edition of Harriot Stuart was published in London by the respectable booksellers Becket, Hondt and Cadell,104 and in 1783 it was remembered as receiving “a very favorable reception” in a biographical essay of Lennox in the British Magazine. In fact, records from the second half of the eighteenth century show that Harriot Stuart was popular in the provinces. In one study (admittedly of a small sample size), male readers in the Midlands borrowed it more than their female counterparts at a rate of four to one.105 Also, Harriot’s story found a curious audience abroad.106 As restrictive as English courtship rituals for unmarried middling and lower gentry women were, they were still freer than those on the Continent; so French female readers would have enjoyed the translations that appeared in Paris and Geneva in 1789 and again in 1795. Also, there is evidence that Austrian booksellers sought out the novel. Johann David Hörling in Vienna requested two copies from the Société Typographique de Neuchâtel in Switzerland in 1790, and a year later the printer Louis Fauche-Borel also requested copies.107 Back in

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England, Lennox’s novel influenced the writers Tobias Smollett and Laurence Sterne, who both owned Harriot Stuart; it remained in their libraries upon their deaths.108 Also, Lennox led a string of subsequent women novelists who were interested in stories that described geographical boundaries. For example, Frances Brooke represented Canada in The History of Emily Montague (1769), and Frances Sheridan imagined Persia in The History of Nourjahad (1767). This expansive impact suggests that, in spite of some reviewers’ reactions, Lennox did have an instinct for her readers’ desires and had found in Harriot Stuart the right balance between respectable instruction and pure entertainment. Even at this early stage, Lennox’s abilities thus played a more important role than her dependencies. Still, she needed and benefited from the help of influential literary men, though she was not the kind of young woman who willingly folded to their demands. When she accepted help, she demonstrated a sophisticated understanding of networks and used them to her advantage. This skill is evident as she embarked on her next project, one that would launch her into perhaps the most respectable genre of her era, history. A Learned Author Novel writing invited criticism simply because of the mixed expectations for the genre. Lennox experienced prejudice not only for having written a novel but also for her willingness to publish. Even today she is first known as a novelist and sometimes considered less learned because of this. However, during her lifetime, she was not known simply as a writer of novels but also for her translations of important French texts. Just three months after Harriot Stuart, a translation of an abridged version of The Memoirs of the Duke of Sully was published. This translation cannot be incontrovertibly attributed to Lennox, especially since it is less than 10 per cent of the size of the translation to which Lennox’s name was attached five years later. Yet the editions are too similar to be independent projects; they were both published by Robert Dodsley, and many scholars have deduced that the 1751 version was indeed Lennox’s translation.109 If Lennox did indeed translate this short version, it undoubtedly contributed to her standing as a respected literary presence for the rest of her career and initiated her moniker as Goddess Clio, muse of history. Maximilien de Béthune, later the Duke of Sully (1560–1641), was the close friend and follower of Henry IV and the principle advisor to Henry as they worked for the reform of France. By the eighteenth century, Sully was considered a veritable hero in his daily governing of the country. The 1751 preface gives background to the life of Sully, including the assumption that readers were quite familiar with this text.

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His memoirs are now so well known, that it is unnecessary to say anything of them here. They are generally allow’d to contain the most curious and authentick Accounts of the Affairs of France in particular, and even of Europe in general, at that Time.

In fact, many thought it almost impossible to separate the work of the king and the minister. What Henry could dream up, Sully would earnestly and expeditiously carry out,110 and at the height of his power the king appointed him marshal of France. Sully was also known for being persecuted as a Protestant child in Catholic France. He published his memoirs under the title Economies Royales,111 and because of its historical importance in providing a model for his “Great Design” for a European confederation, this translation gave Lennox greater exposure within the intellectual community. Lennox would no longer be considered simply the young poetess who wrote sentimental poetry and novels about young women’s romantic adventures. Her knowledge of French and her ability to grapple with history, politics, and the ethics of government likely afforded her more respect than she had previously experienced as a daring female novelist. Given Lennox’s interest in American affairs, her choice to translate the memoirs of a beloved French leader who administered a just government is curious. In 1751 England and France were at war against each other in America. Translating Sully could have been simply another instance of translation for hire, but it could have also involved Lennox’s own decision to shine a spotlight on a reformist French politician and thus could have been a kind of challenge to Lennox’s own government. Her position as an outsider might in fact have moved her to interrogate the status quo, not just in gender but in politics. Unfortunately, few likely knew of Lennox’s role in this 1751 translation, and it remains unclear why her name did not appear on the title page, as it was regarded as a highly learned text, the best of all books at presenting a wise perspective on public life. Elizabeth Carter read Sully in French and recommended it to her lifelong friend, the author Catherine Talbot. Talbot wrote to Carter and praised it as “extremely worth reading.” Talbot continues, “I know none that shews one the world in a more entertaining and instructive way, and numberless are the reflections that every page suggests to me.”112 The success of Sully is further demonstrated by the interest of Irish booksellers in publishing a reprint: in the same year that Sully was published in London, a similar edition, bearing the same title page as the Dodsley edition, was printed in Dublin for G. and A. Ewing, at the Angel and Bible in Dame-Street.113 If Lennox was indeed responsible for the 1751 translation of Sully, this early engagement with history would have given her additional literary respect and helped pave the way for future scholarly projects. “Making a trade of her wit,” both as a novelist and as a learned author, was beginning to yield desirable results.

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At a time when women were frequently not encouraged to engage openly in the literary arena, Lennox took her chances in the uneven process of allowing the public gaze to light on her. The years of 1750 and 1751 proved essential to Lennox’s formation as a formidable and respected literary figure. In fact, these two years launched her career, establishing her reputation as an esteemed author. As a very young woman she was careful, revealing much but hiding even more of herself. Yet Lennox’s novelistic child Harriot Stuart and her translation of the learned Sully not only offered her a unique path to maturity, they in fact set her adult life on a professional course. They also proved her intellectual capabilities and her skill at manoeuvring within a fickle publishing world. In fact, her pioneering career served as a model for the respected, commercial author. At age twenty-two, Lennox had succeeded in what some portray as competing markets: the learned and the popular.

Chapter Four

Uniting the Laudable Affections of the Mind 1751–2 Ages 23–4

To say the Truth, I am inclin’d to conceive a greater Hope of a Man, who in the Beginning of his Life is hurry’d away by some evil Habit, than one that fastens on nothing … Philosophy itself, which boasts it hath Remedies for all Indispositions of the Soul, never had any that can cure an Indifferent Mind. (The Female Quixote, 310–11)

The year 1751 changed the course of Lennox’s life: she transcended her lonely childhood and the struggles of finding her place in society and joined the ranks of successful London authors. This was the year that she composed and negotiated the publication of her most famous novel, The Female Quixote. With this novel, Lennox moved from the margins into the mainstream of literary history. The Female Quixote, published in 1752, two years after Harriot Stuart, took advantage of the popularity of Don Quixote to create a parody that is both humorous and incisive, but also explores the complex relationship between the genres of romance and novel and presents a Cartesian thought experiment. The Female Quixote details the struggles of a sharp, bookish young woman, Arabella, who is isolated at her father’s country estate and only has access to the French romances left by her dead mother. From these romances Arabella extracts a strict set of rules about the relations between men and women that she inflicts on herself and others. In confrontations with a string of suitors, most prominently her future husband, the worthy Glanville, Arabella – supported by her maid Lucy – demonstrates her ability to debate cogently. A series of scenarios, which begin within the walls of the castle where she has grown up, continue at a chaperoned ball, and conclude with her swimming across the Thames, humorously illustrate how these romances have affected her mind. Arabella is ultimately visited separately by a set of intellectual

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equals, the Countess and the Divine, who help her see a broader way of engaging with the world around her. Because of these discussions, she is willing to marry Glanville and be “united with every laudable affection of the mind.” The Female Quixote, which merged the values of reason and passion, and which combined humorous anecdotes with philosophical dialogue, went through five editions in London and Dublin in the eighteenth century and was translated into German, French, and Spanish in Lennox’s lifetime. Today, it is considered a landmark novel of metafiction. Often the novel is seen as a story about a quixotic young woman who is either mad or a genius. But Arabella is also an important figure in English literature for her dissection of what a society constitutes as “right thinking.” On the one hand, Lennox’s novel benefited from the growing popularity in England of Cervantes’ Don Quixote, which had already been translated into English in four versions by the time Lennox wrote her novel.1 But just as importantly, Lennox uses her plot to engage current English epistemological frameworks. Her narrative carefully analyses the way individuals navigate essential life choices, dissects one woman’s struggle with the particular world view she learned as a child, and humorously reveals how easy it is to be trapped in an extremely limited way of thinking. With The Female Quixote, Lennox thus responds to key philosophical ideas of her day, notably whether humans are more influenced by nature or nurture, how individual minds integrate their own agency with society’s expectations for belief and behaviour, and whether individuals should rely more on reason or on emotion in their life choices. Lennox’s Poems and Harriot Stuart had debated these questions in subtle ways, but – with her growing confidence as a public figure and increasing skill as a novelist – The Female Quixote addressed them head on. Companions in Wit Lennox’s most important intellectual sparring partner as she worked out these ideas was Samuel Johnson, and the chronological parallels in their careers and publications show that they not only grew their careers at the same time but also shared common interests in the function of the new novel, specifically in how it was transitioning from the increasingly passé “romance.” In these early years, and even much later in Johnson’s life, Lennox would be called Johnson’s “favorite” by his close friend.2 For Lennox, the relationship with Johnson may have afforded her the most important professional contact to span her entire literary career. Johnson probably introduced Lennox to two of her future publishers, John Payne and Andrew Millar, and to collaborators and mentors, including John Boyle, the Earl of Cork and Orrery, who became one of Lennox’s greatest supporters.

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Johnson also persuaded Edward Cave to promote Lennox’s literary efforts in the Gentleman’s Magazine. Even after Johnson’s death, Lennox benefited from the connection, receiving literary and financial assistance from his friends James Boswell, Bennet Langton, and Lady Frances Chambers.3 These individuals may have been first attracted to Lennox’s beauty, but what kept their interest was her mental acuity. She wrote quickly and clearly and was able to turn complex ideas into publications that were making her famous. Yet what attracted Johnson most was the way he and Lennox shared intellectual ideas. Current scholarship shows clearly how much Johnson needed others, especially at the beginning of his career, and even that he was known for his dependencies.4 As we see, until 1752 Johnson was also struggling in London. His marriage was not on solid ground in these years. He had brought his wife, Elizabeth (better known as Tetty), to live in the metropolis, and she hated it. In some of Johnson’s actions – marrying, moving house, visiting Lichfield, or shunning drink – he seemed a master of his own fate; but in the major components of his literary career he was controlled by his colleagues: “They generate[d] most of his conversation, extract[ed] most of his writing, elicit[ed] most of his charities, launch[ed] most of his frisks and frolics, conduct[ed] most of his tours, and preside[d] over his meals, introductions, and encounters.”5 The fact that Johnson owes a debt to Lennox, rather than the other way around, is often lost in the discussion of his relationship to the young woman. Most biographers of Johnson rehearse anecdotes that seem to show Johnson’s power over others, including Lennox. For example, Johnson’s occasional severity, or perhaps simply his bald sarcasm, concerning female authors is often revived. “Several ladies being in company with Dr. Johnson, it was remarked by one of them, that a learned woman was by no means a rare character in the present age; when Johnson replied, ‘I have known a great many ladies who knew Latin, but very few who knew English.’”6 Samuel Johnson was no gentle critic, and there is no doubt that Boswell’s biography was instrumental in propagating a Johnson whose opinions of women were less than admirable. In Boswell’s story, Johnson inspired; he was not the one who received inspiration. Specifically, Boswell mentions Lennox several times in his biography and concludes that the success of three of her books involved some help from Johnson. This attitude prevailed in the early twentieth century. Allen T. Hazen’s Johnson’s Prefaces and Dedications (1937) highlighted the assumption that Lennox’s works “owe something” to Johnson; and even Miriam Small, Lennox’s 1935 biographer, believed that Johnson was generally not favourable to women publishing their writing, reinforcing the belief that he had “the reputation of being unfriendly to female authors and severe in his judgments upon their works.”7

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Yet at least since 1951, when Bertrand H. Bronson introduced the idea of a disparity between Boswell’s Johnson and other presentations of him, it has been clear that Boswell did not want to see how others might have influenced Johnson’s own writing, especially women who knew him early in his career. Johnson was certainly skilled at producing unrestrained sharp-tongued aphorisms, and those he blurted out about women are indeed witty, but his actions actually show his forceful support of women. In 1776 he subscribed to the second edition of Sermons by Mary Deverell. When Frances Brooke pressed him to give her advice on revising her play Siege of Sinope, he told her that she herself, by carefully looking it over, would be able to see if there was anything amiss as well as he could. “‘But, sir,’ said she, ‘I have no time. I have already so many irons in the fire.’ ‘Why then madam,’ said he (quite out of patience) ‘the best thing I can advise you to do is, to put your tragedy along with your irons.’”8 Johnson thinks her defensiveness is something of an excuse and simply admonishes her to make the play one of her priorities; that is, to have the courage to subject it to whatever fires it would need to endure. Brooke took his advice, and Siege of Sinope was performed 31 January 1781. Johnson further promoted Brooke’s career by encouraging Orrery to share material with her for her periodical the Old Maid. Today few accept the construct of a purely misogynist Johnson.9 For instance, Isobel Grundy notes the importance of remembering the eighteenth-century cultural mileu and suggests that, while Johnson “was not free from the prejudices and preconditions of his age,”10 he was still significant in encouraging wealthy women to take on new roles as patrons and in facilitating the emergence of women authors.11 In fact, Johnson encouraged at least seventeen female authors, four of whom – in addition to Lennox – attained significant literary fame: Elizabeth Carter,12 Frances Burney,13 Hannah More, and Hester Thrale.14 Johnson’s own writings about women and other accounts of him by literary women like Thrale and Burney reveal his high esteem for them as men’s intellectual equals. Similarly, the painter and occasional writer Frances Reynolds described Johnson as a helpful and fair critic. She wrote to Elizabeth Montagu after Johnson’s death about “an opinion I had conceived of Dr. Johnson being strongly prejudiced against women’s work. But I deceived myself. He was sincere, he judged justly of the work.”15 Understanding the delicate balance between letting “praise relax” and “difficulty fright,”16 he wrote reviews, prefaces, and dedications, contributed to and revised women’s works, signed subscription lists, and consistently influenced booksellers to support women that he felt deserved attention in the literary marketplace. Johnson has been thought to have played a large role in the publication of The Female Quixote, but a careful look at all the evidence reveals Lennox’s own writing impulses and her independent mind. The one-sided portrayal of Johnson’s relationship with Lennox – he giving all the support, she receiving all the

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inspiration – can also be attributed to various “factual” narratives that featured Johnson. In the early nineteenth century, the Lady’s Monthly Museum ran a series that presented the lives of ladies who had been eminent in the latter part of the previous century.17 The article on Lennox narrates a first meeting between Johnson and Lennox that must be fictional, since it misdates this meeting to after Lennox had published The Female Quixote, but which is emblematic of the way the relationship is portrayed: [Mrs Lennox] was introduced to Dr. Johnson as a young lady of considerable genius; but nothing could exceed the astonishment of Mrs. Lennox at the odd manner in which she was received. The doctor took her on his knee, as if a mere child; after which he carried her in his arms, to shew her his library; and as if resolved to be uniform in his conduct, sent his servant to a pastry-cook, to purchase some cakes for the young lady. Mrs. Lennox found herself greatly embarrassed, but a respect for his character stifled even the idea of resentment, and she preserved an intimacy with him until near the period of his decease.18

In light of Sir John Hawkins’s account of Johnson’s deep respect for Lennox at the 1750 Devil’s Tavern celebration, described in the previous chapter – which he attended – this demeaning portrayal could not have been true. Miriam Small, Lennox’s first biographer, suggests that this story was more reflective of Johnson’s treatment of Frances Burney.19 Yet the inclusion of this story in the Lady’s Monthly Museum’s biography indicates the mid-nineteenth-century impulse not to take Lennox seriously. Instead, the story suggests the idea that eminent ladies would, out of respect for Johnson’s character, “stifle even the idea of resentment” – a behaviour that seems unlikely from the outspoken, independent Charlotte Lennox we know. At the same time, the author of this article clearly believed that Johnson’s behaviour was strange and perhaps thought that the inclusion of this story might redeem some of Lennox’s more feisty qualities. This sort of negotiation of Lennox’s strong character against a society that valued a more passive female persona resonates throughout much of Lennox scholarship. While Lennox no doubt suffered from this opposition, Johnson was transfixed by the tension. Their relationship of over thirty-seven years grew out of her ability to negotiate both an inward resolve and an outward flexibility. As we learn more about Lennox’s life and writing, it becomes increasingly clear that Lennox directed her own career. The Quixotism of Charlotte and Sam At forty-two, while he was establishing his public literary identity in the early 1750s, Johnson was afflicted with facial tics and physical deformation; Lennox,

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at twenty-two, was undoubtedly also dedicated to authorial success. They shared similar obstacles of having low rank, an absence of family influence, no disposable income, and difficult marriages. Lennox not only faced these vexing issues, but her gender – and perhaps her youth – made each of them exponentially more of a challenge. Getting The Female Quixote published manifested many of these difficulties.20 Though it is unclear when Lennox began her work on The Female Quixote, by April 1751 she was nearing its completion. Unlike Don Quixote, who is an older man when he starts believing that life should be lived by the rules of the romances he has read, Arabella is a blank slate, a young woman who has indulged in French romances. Although Arabella is convinced by her limited reading that “‘Love … is the Business, the sole Business of Ladies in Romances,’”21 Lennox implies that real-life women have more serious occupations that include practising and expecting authentic love and maintaining principles while being open to change. However, their interests also extend well past their romantic relationships with men. They struggle with the stability of moral facts and how the individual and her specific circumstances can best determine what is right. The novel pivots around a deep sense of moral scepticism. In order to get The Female Quixote published, Lennox did not limit herself to her past experience. Instead, she sought out an author and publisher who was already very successful, Samuel Richardson. As we know, Lennox was pleased that the famous author had agreed to read the manuscript. What she may not have known when she was standing at his door was that he looked forward to meeting her.22 When he began reading the novel he praised its initial efforts: “So far as I have read, I very much like it.” However, she would have been even more excited when, after a more careful reading, Richardson reported that he was “quite charm’d with the lovely Visionary’s [Arabella’s] Absurdity (and the Perplexity which follows it … ).”23 He was especially impressed that Lennox had written such a perceptive novel at her young age and in spite of the fact that she “ha[d] been unhappy.” Yet, best of all he declared that Lennox “ha[s] genius.”24 Lennox and her husband became regular visitors to Richardson’s home,25 so perhaps he had noticed the marital tension that was the source of that unhappiness on which he remarked. Richardson liked to entertain his guests by reading letters to them, and Lennox also experienced this attempt to amuse. It was reported that Lennox could not “remember a visit in which her host had not rehearsed at least one, but probably two or three voluminous letters if he found her in the humour of listening with attention.”26 In a letter dated 10 December 1751, Richardson comments on the positive reception of Harriot Stuart, “our Charlotte’s Book,” and again references his and Johnson’s shared affection for this blossoming writer.27 This letter indicates a certain degree of intimacy with the young author as well as their mutual interest

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in Lennox’s success. At about the same time, Lennox became known to the other famous novelist of the decade, Henry Fielding.28 As encouraging as it was to have the support of these men, Lennox still faced challenges in shepherding The Female Quixote into print. Having patience in the publication process, which included satisfying a publisher, proved extremely difficult and stressful. In November of 1751, Lennox expressed her penury to Richardson: inspite of the resignation and patience I indeavour to practice … I cannot help lamenting the Condition to which fortune has reduced me, and wholly unfit as I am to struggle with the mortifications of a dependant State has yet made it necessary and unavoidable.29

In addition, this letter demonstrates that Lennox reluctantly accepted the humiliation of dependency. Alexander’s income was not supporting them, as she expresses here her genuine desperation. She had been married for four years, and the glow of marriage had worn off. “Resignation and patience,” which she described having as she hoped for her novel’s publication, were in fact necessary requirements in a wife. They were, to some degree, also required in an author. Her current need for an income meant that she had to be “restor[ed] to Mr. Millar’s good opinion” in order to publish. The Scot Andrew Millar was “a generous patron of Scotch authors,”30 and we will recall that Lennox’s father was Scottish, as was her husband. Perhaps these facts helped in giving Lennox a second chance, after Millar’s readers expressed reservations. Millar had sent her book to outside readers, the unidentified “Mr. Gray and his two Associates,” one of whom might have been the unidentified Mr Seymour, to get their opinion on publication. Lennox’s lament about needing to worry about their opinions indicates that, if she had been more financially stable, she would have attempted to publish her work without relying on readers who, although they might admit that it would sell, were judgmental about the content. In fact, she felt quite confident in The Female Quixote, saying that to please these critics it would be “necessary to write a new Book.” One change they expected was that she omit a scene in which Arabella mistakes a prostitute for a respectable woman, a humorous exchange which contains the radical notion that a woman’s lack of chastity, or reputation, might not be visible. This assertion could also allude to the woman writer’s essential respectability. Or rather, the fact that the writer is a woman does not necessarily imply a lack of chastity, which is not automatically visible. When publication with Millar was threatened because of this innocent conversation between the upright protagonist and a sullied woman, Lennox roundly rejected their analysis and called them “inhuman Criticks.” Still, she was willing to make some changes and graciously, likely

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through gritted teeth, accepted with “redoubled spirit” suggestions from Richardson. Though the scene with the mistaken prostitute remained. These early male readers represented the conventional reader, whereas Richardson, whom Lennox called “the united voice of the World,” was able to see that The Female Quixote was not formulaic and valued the novel for combining provocation, complexity, and entertainment.31 Lennox and Richardson’s collaboration in finding a printer and bookseller for The Female Quixote was the turning point in Lennox’s career, but Richardson was not her only advocate. For instance, Johnson corresponded with Richardson a month after the previous exchanges and just three months before the novel was published.32 In these letters, Johnson shared with Richardson his sympathy for Lennox’s plight, and both clearly wanted her to succeed. Johnson writes, Lord Orrery has read our Charlotte’s Book and declares in its favour, though less ardently than we, he has spoken in its praise to Mr. Millar. It vexes me to think that scarcely any man when he enters upon a book gives himself up to the conduct of the authour, but first imagines a way of his own, and then is angry that he is led from it.33

Johnson was frustrated with Lennox’s prepublication readers, both Lord Orrery and Millar’s outside reviewers, for having limited ideas of what “good literature” was and for being prejudiced against this new genre. This kind of gatekeeping did not allow an author (especially a female one) to present readers with new modes of thinking; rather it required her to reinforce their expectations. Johnson’s understanding of Lennox’s literary skill and difficult position in the literary world is what likely cemented their long and fruitful relationship. Lennox was often misunderstood, and he sincerely and thoughtfully supported her career, investing a significant amount of time in her literary advancement. Johnson saw her precarious position in a fickle literary market and wondered if she would always be so undervalued. Lord Orrery is best known for his Life of Swift and had numerous literary ties, including a protracted correspondence with Alexander Pope and Lord Chesterfield. He also wrote essays for Frances Brooke, and was often in Johnson’s company in the 1750s. Still, Johnson had more respect for Lennox’s mind than he had for Orrery’s. He called Orrery’s “conversation” “neat and elegant, but without strength,” and believed that Orrery “grasped at more than his abilities could reach” and “tried to pass for a better talker, a better writer, and better thinker than he was.” In contrast to Lennox, who experienced great publishing successes, Orrery spent his life seeking after literary eminence but lacking the skill to attain it.

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Johnson was also concerned that Lennox was often treated with less seriousness because of her sex. Lord Orrery’s opinions illustrate this focus on Lennox’s gender as opposed to her writing. In a letter he wrote to Johnson just one month before The Female Quixote was to be printed, Orrery reveals his bias:34 How does good Mr. Johnson? How is the fair Enchantress, whose appearance I dare say will draw many to her Castle? I shall be glad to be thought a Knight Errant in her train, or to be of any real service to those whom you number among your friends …

While Orrery focused on Lennox primarily as a beautiful woman and as a sexual object, Johnson was relentlessly advocating for Lennox because of her literary merit. Consequently, he persisted in clarifying Lennox’s intentions for a future scholarly project on Shakespeare in a letter to Orrery. I congratulate myself upon the accident, by which I introduced Mrs. Lenox to your Lordship. She tells me with how much historical information you have been pleased to honour her, but thinks she has not clearly explained her Plan which comprised not a complete Commentary on Shakespear, but only translations, and Extracts from such Writers as he appears to have made use of. 35

Here, Johnson highlights Lennox’s literary objectives and focuses on her capabilities as an author, reminding Orrery in a backhanded way that he trusted “his Lordship” enough to help Lennox’s literary career and ignored his suggestive comments. In 1752, Johnson had more literary connections than ever before because of his Rambler essays, and he generously shared his contacts and advocated for Lennox’s mind. Together, Lennox and Johnson grappled with what the new genre of the novel would mean as it captured the imaginations of a growing readership. Fears about the novel were complex for all writers. Many literary critics were concerned that fiction would debase the minds of readers, making them more susceptible to the imagination and less in control of their reason. In the 1740s a debate had begun about the role of this new genre, and Lennox and Johnson were among the first group of authors to confront this shift. Richardson’s Pamela and Clarissa along with Fielding’s Joseph Andrews (1742) and Tom Jones (1749) demonstrated that fiction could be respected as artistic and intellectual, while also having a popular appeal. Richardson and Fielding offer distinctive characters, while Fielding adds comic value. Implicitly they did not discard romance but preserved some of its elements. Richardson idealized his characters, and Fielding gave ordinary people heroic status, while they both highlighted sentimental love.

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Grappling with the “Romance” Lennox’s Female Quixote takes the ideas of “the ideal” even further by illustrating how the genre of romance could engage central questions about genuinely “right thinking.” Johnson’s Dictionary provides four definitions of “romance”: “a military fable of the middle ages; a tale of wild adventures in war and love,” “a lie; a fiction in common speech,” “improbable; false,” and “fanciful; full of wild scenery.” His criticism of this genre of the “past age” was that it did not give a true representation of life as people actually experienced it but rather painted an idealized picture. Yet romance elements from the seventeenth century, which included fantastical events and heroic characters, were still popular with readers. Some have suggested that Johnson warned against romance and Lennox heeded that warning, but this does not coincide with the order in which they published their works. That is, Lennox’s publications just as often influenced Johnson’s. They were both unwilling to accept common notions about what constitutes “great” literature. During the 1740s, when both were struggling to establish themselves in the literary marketplace of London, neither could avoid writing about the complexities of the “romance” genre and its influence on the literature of their time. Instead they were questioning in tandem the role that romance would play in the formulation of the burgeoning genre, the novel. In public, Johnson was not willing to reveal his addiction, but in private he admitted that he had always loved French chivalric romances,36 which involved exaggerated male chivalry, damsels in distress, love so powerful it could kill, and fairy tale elements. Johnson’s friend Thomas Percy reported that as a boy he “was immoderately fond of reading romances of chivalry, and he retained his fondness for them through life.” Johnson is also said to have attributed his “unsettled turn of mind” to an excessive diet of “these extravagant fictions.” In the 1760s, Frances Sheridan worried about the influences of romances on young women and was concerned that Johnson would think she would let her daughter freely follow her own curiosity in the books she read. Sheridan told Johnson that she kept from her daughter “all such books as are not calculated, by their moral tendency, for the perusal of youth.” Johnson disagreed: “Then you are a fool, madam! … Turn your daughter loose into your library; if she is well inclined, she will choose only nutritious food; if otherwise, all your precautions will avail nothing to prevent her following the natural bent of her inclinations.”37 Considering the order of their publications, from Lennox’s 1747 “Shallum to Hilpah, An Epistle,” through Johnson’s 1748 Visions of Theodore the Hermit of Teneriffe and themes in his Rambler 1750–1, to Lennox’s invocations of Johnson in The Female Quixote (1752), it is possible that Lennox tried to influence Johnson (unsuccessfully) to write publicly about his private passion for romance novels. Since Lennox probably

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knew that Johnson secretly liked these supposedly dangerous books, she could have been having a bit of fun by modelling Arabella after the romance-addicted Johnson and then ultimately helping her reform through a Divine, who is also curiously like Johnson himself. Both Johnson and Lennox focalized the debate over romance and the novel through Don Quixote, still the most prominent antiromance in the 1740s. They struggled with the quixotic hero’s dilemma – the confusion of fact and fiction – and questioned what sort of balance the novel would strike. How true to life should their protagonists be? To what extent should their stories be moral, and to what extent should they be pure entertainment? What role should literature play in the minds of their readers? Of the two authors, Lennox was the first to address the significance of romances. In 1747 in Poems on Several Occasions she published a poetic response to Joseph Addison’s antediluvian story “Shallum and Hilpah.” This poem appeared in his extremely popular Spectator. Lennox’s “Shallum to Hilpah, An Epistle. From the Spectator” urged readers to concentrate on what was real, rather than on fantastical possibilities, and addressed the various problems of a mind too steeped in make-believe. In this poem, Lennox shows the silliness of sentimental love and its “transient Glories” and encourages instead a focus on the present: “Be happy now, and leave to Fate the rest.”38 The message of living in the present, not in an imaginary world, was clearly important to Lennox, as this “epistle” concluded her book of poetry, and she reprinted “Shallum to Hilpah” in her Lady’s Museum twenty-two years later. Johnson first articulated his ideas about the value of the imagination after Lennox, in 1748. With the Pilgrim’s Progress-like allegory Visions of Theodore the Hermit of Teneriffe (1748), he attempted to illustrate his idea that fiction should be “at least probable.”39 Here, Theodore proceeds up the mountain as he watches Habit, Tyranny, Appetite, Education, Ambition, Avarice, and Intemperance one by one distract his fellow travellers away from Reason. In Johnson’s first prose publication, education is a vital stage in people’s progress, and reason is a subordinate collaborator with religion. Yet, through allegory Johnson’s fiction insists on truth. The year 1750 was a prolific one for both Johnson and Lennox: Johnson began his Rambler series, which was filled with short fictions, and Lennox completed Harriot Stuart. Lennox’s interest in the function of the romance is apparent in her first novel. On the one hand, Mrs Villars, an older woman whom Harriot meets on the boat sailing to America, is the representative character who “being deeply read in romances has her head filled with adventures of gallantry.” In having Mrs Villars betray Harriot, Lennox shows that romance can also be unreliable and potentially damaging to those who read it literally. She also criticizes the town of New York as “the seat of love and gallantry.” On the other hand, the likeable protagonist describes herself at ten years old as a young woman who has a propensity

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to gallantry40 and coquetry41 and is “nothing less than a Clelia or Statira”42 – two heroines from seventeenth-century French romances. Thus, Lennox’s first novel initiates her grappling with the problem of romance and how it complicates, and perhaps at times even emboldens, a life of reason. At the same time that Lennox was completing Harriot Stuart, Johnson was writing Rambler 4, which was published on 31 March 1750. This essay is generally thought to be a response to the 1748 novels Tom Jones and Roderick Random; that is, it is interpreted as an expression of Johnson’s desire to defend Richardson’s theory of fiction.43 However, since Lennox’s influence cannot be ruled out, it must be noted that Rambler 4 not only responds to Lennox’s portrayal of real characters but also confronts similar concerns about “romance.” “The Modern Form of Romances Preferable to the Ancient. The Necessity of Characters Morally Good” was the formal title of Rambler 4, which expressed Johnson’s belief about novels and his questions about the unproductive nature of the earlier form of romance. He was critical of “this wild strain of imagination … in polite and learned ages” past, arguing that it did not offer the reader a “true” depiction of life and thus was not helpful to human growth. He purported to share the majority opinion that “the greatest excellency of art … is to imitate nature.” The themes of Johnson’s Ramblers, charity, good humour, and idleness, point to a lifelong preoccupation with life choices, a theme in Harriot Stuart as well.44 Also, many of the techniques that Lennox employed in depicting Harriot’s life could serve as examples of Johnson’s ideas about the role of fiction. For example, Johnson explains that writing must be inspired by living in the world and not by shutting oneself up. The task of our present writers is very different; it requires, together with that learning which is to be gained from books, that experience which can never be attained by solitary diligence, but must arise from general converse, and accurate observation of the living world.

Lennox did just this, by portraying her own experience in America and framing it as if Harriot were writing her own story from direct observation. In the wise and chaste Harriot, Lennox successfully conveyed Johnson’s sentiment that Virtue is the highest proof of understanding, and the only solid basis of greatness; and that vice is the natural consequence of narrow thoughts: that it begins in mistake, and ends in ignominy.

Yet she did not create flat, self-righteous characters that do not excite a reader’s interest. Harriot is not perfect, and her admission to being a natural coquette

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complicates the belief that good and evil do not spring from the same root. Grappling with the question of “right thinking,” and how much it should be dictated by parents rather than trusted instinctually, is evident even in Lennox’s first novel. In fact, Johnson’s Rambler essay on parental tyranny (no. 148), published in 1751 after Harriot Stuart, could have been inspired by Harriot’s short-sighted parents. The Devil’s Tavern celebration, in which Johnson’s “face shone with meridian splendour,”45 was likely charged with many accomplishments. The party occurred just a little over a month after Johnson’s Rambler essay on the new novel (no. 4) appeared. It is a striking illustration of Lennox and Johnson’s mutual fascination with the power of fiction. However, it was also Johnson’s way of celebrating and encouraging Lennox’s ability to convey verisimilitude and poetic justice in art. Johnson had critiqued Fielding for the racy nature of his novels; however, he must have approved of Lennox’s brand of witty satire in novel form. Perhaps Johnson thought Lennox’s novel had found a better balance – not needing bawdy humour or the elements of scandalous memoir to make it exciting and engaging. Lennox would go on to make fiction a mainstay of her career, whereas Johnson, aside from a few more fictional Ramblers, would only published one more prose work, a brief fable about happiness called The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia (1759). Other similarities between Lennox’s and Johnson’s literary obsessions become clear throughout the Rambler: both are interested in Don Quixote, and both are interested in the misdirected romance reader. Johnson’s interest in the character of Don Quixote is evident in various instances in the Rambler. Wendy Motooka even suggests that Johnson’s way of thinking overall is quite quixotic: “Johnson’s persona, Mr. Rambler, admits to being ‘lightly touched’ by his ‘writer’s malady,’ ‘a disease for which when it has attained its height, perhaps no remedy will be found in the gardens of philosophy.’ Johnson would have recognized himself in the main protagonist of the Female Quixote, Arabella.”46 Johnson empathizes with Don Quixote’s struggle to dream and overcome his own shortcomings, writing, “When we pity him, we reflect on our own disappointments, and when we laugh, our hearts inform us that he is not more ridiculous than ourselves, except that he tells what we have only thought.”47 Furthermore, Johnson believed that without the imagination to conjure hope no human endeavour in the actual world would be possible, since “the natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope.” Prose fiction, Johnson writes, is especially useful for illustrating the quixotic nature of all temporal life and the fact that life itself implies the absurd madness of human desire: When the knight of La Mancha gravely recounts to his companion the adventures by which he is to signalize himself in such a manner that he shall be summoned to the support of empires … very few readers, amidst their mirth or pity, can deny that

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they have admitted visions of the same kind; though they have not, perhaps, expected events equally strange, nor by means equally inadequate.48

Here, Johnson shares with his readers his own quixotic desire to “be summoned to the support of empires” – and implies that his readers feel a similar, unacknowledged longing. However, this longing needs to channelled by appropriate reading. Lennox would have been free to begin work on The Female Quixote in March 1751. Johnson’s Rambler 115, which tells the story of Hymenaeus’s attempts to find the perfect wife, was published a month later.49 It details his failed relationships, the last one doomed because no quick cure is available for his fiancée, the misdirected romance reader Imperia. Imperia, Hymenaeus explains, spent the early part of her life in the perusal of romances, brought with her into the gay world all the pride of Cleopatra; expected nothing less than vows, altars, and sacrifices; and thought her charms dishonoured, and her power infringed, by the softest opposition to her sentiments, or the smallest transgression of her commands. Time might indeed cure this species of pride in a mind not naturally undiscerning, and vitiated only by false representations; but the operations of time are slow; and I therefore left her to grow wise at leisure, or to continue in errour at her own expense.

Johnson’s description mirrors Lennox’s Arabella – but from a male perspective. Hymenaeus ends up seeming to relinquish his quest for a wife and accept a life alone; however, he finds Tranquila and they propose to live happily ever after. In contrast, Lennox tells a happily-ever-after story from the romance reader’s vantage point. She gives her protagonist extended time to grow and learn, and demonstrates, especially through Glanville, what patient love can accomplish by offering Arabella wise friends who take her mind seriously. Through dialogue with them, Arabella finds a way to practise right thinking and live contentedly within society.50 “Curing” a Female Quixote Lennox’s and Johnson’s converging and diverging ideas about romance and quixotism perhaps become most obvious in the debate around the penultimate chapter and the conclusion to The Female Quixote. Lennox best demonstrates how adept, even intimately familiar, she had become with subtle and strategic compromise. In the penultimate chapter the pair are represented through the debate between Arabella and the divine. There is evidence that Johnson and Lennox discussed the contents of her novel in some detail, especially the problematic conclusion in which Arabella, in her weakened state, leaves behind her romantic imaginings and

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proclaims, “my Heart yields to the Force of Truth.” Here, Arabella admits to her community that she has “trifled away my Time, and fear that I have already made some Approaches to the Crime of encouraging Violence and Revenge.”51 Yet there is no evidence that Johnson helped write the penultimate chapter. Because Lennox included a “great Divine” to reason Arabella into reform and a socially acceptable conclusion, some critics in the nineteenth century assumed that Johnson had a hand in this chapter, which is titled “Being in the Author’s Opinion, the Best Chapter in this History.” Even though neither Johnson nor Boswell asserted or even alluded to authorship, the view that Johnson wrote the last chapters of The Female Quixote, or at least part of them, persisted throughout the twentieth century. At the same time, other critics, including myself, informed by a newly found cache of Lennox’s letters, contested this claim and began to grapple with Lennox’s agency in her own writing career. For instance, they argued that the end of The Female Quixote is the reverse of Johnson’s own conclusion to Imperia’s story – Lennox creates a discerning and strong-minded romance reader who progresses from loneliness to learning – and that the chapter is not entirely consistent with Johnson’s style: Lennox could have been approximating “Johnsonese,” perhaps satirically, to give the appearance of the Divine as a Johnson-like character.52 Lennox admired Johnson and shared many of his moral values as well as his concerns about truth and imagination. In The Female Quixote, she alluded to the great moral tale of the age, Clarissa, as well as to Johnson’s own Rambler. Her debt to Johnson is even more pointedly expressed near the end of the novel when she described him as “the greatest Genius in the present age,”53 and she conveyed her “sincere acknowledgements for [his] kindness during the writing of [The Female Quixote]” as another way of thanking him. However, conclusive proof that Johnson did not write the penultimate chapter of The Female Quixote can be found in a letter that was accompanied by a presentation copy of the novel, which Lennox sent to Johnson on 12 March 1752, one day before it was published. In this letter, Lennox takes full responsibility for the conclusion of her novel: Permit me to intreat your acceptance of the inclosed Book and of my sincere acknowledgements for your kindness during the Writing of it. If you do me the favour to read over the latter part of the second Voll. which you have not yet seen you’ll find I have not cured my Heroine in the manner I proposd being too much confind in Room to do justice to the admirable Character I intended for her imitation, and was forced to content myself with shewing by a few Words only my extream admiration of it.54

From this letter it is clear that Lennox wrote the concluding chapters herself. We see her frustration in not being able to flesh out a conclusion that did justice to Arabella’s modelling herself on “an admirable character,” since Richardson

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had limited her to two volumes. Her original proposal for the end of the novel, with which Johnson was familiar, included some kind of imitation of Clarissa, about which we will always wonder, and which, according to Lennox, would have required a third volume.55 However, Lennox had no intention of letting her heroine die, as Clarissa had. In fact, she made clear that she intended to “cure” Arabella. Perhaps Richardson’s suggestion that she conclude her novel quickly gave Lennox the opportunity to slip in far more ambiguity, and thus allow Arabella both to maintain her principles and to concede enough to satisfy her community. Although Lennox accepted Richardson’s advice and assistance in the writing and publication of The Female Quixote, she eschewed his most prominent literary devices, such as “the epistolary method, an emphasis on love and passion and an abundance of moral sentiments.”56 The conclusion to her novel is a particularly poignant example of Lennox’s ability to adapt herself as necessary, both in her relationships and in her writing. Lennox was already a clever imitator of a variety of writing forms.57 She had proven herself adept at adopting the tone of other writers with her translation of Sully, and later she produced several more celebrated translations and modernized Ben Jonson’s Eastward Ho – all imitations of a sort. Because of her agility in constructing a multitude of genres and conveying various voices, mimicking Johnson’s writing style was likely even an enjoyable task. Lennox had the skill to use Johnson’s well-known moral position to save Arabella from herself, and her penultimate chapter is a dextrous imagining of a conversation similar to one she might have had with Johnson. Thus, Lennox was thinking of Johnson as she created “The good Divine, who had the Cure of Arabella’s Mind greatly at Heart.”58 In the repartee, Lennox depicts a young woman who finds herself being lectured by the worldly-wise Doctor (Lennox uses the two titles interchangeably). Just as Johnson appears to have calmed Lennox when she was agitated over societal constraints and rejections and directed her energies towards behaviours more acceptable for their society, the Divine advises Arabella to acquiesce in society’s expectations and manage herself in a manner that will give her the greatest public acceptance. He obviously deeply cares for Arabella, listening to her with “mix’d Emotion, between Pity, Reverence, and Amazement.”59 However, Arabella is not interested in his pity. Instead, she wants intellectual guidance when her own strategies have not brought her success: Tho I have known some Danger and Distresses, reply’d Arabella gravely, yet I did not imagine myself such a Mirror of Calamity as could not be seen without Concern … Nor do I expect from the Severity of the Sacerdotal Character, any of those Praises, which I hear perhaps with too much Pleasure, from the rest of the World … I would yet rather hear Instructions rather than Compliments60

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In this chapter, then, Lennox constructs a dialogue that reflects the tone of an older, more experienced advisor who carefully relates to a young, female, intellectual romantic. A similar dynamic, in which the older man of experience treads lightly on the pride of a smart younger woman, was evident in the relationship between Lennox and Johnson as well. Just as Arabella rejects mere obsequiousness, Lennox did not seek banal flattery from Johnson. Instead, she expected help from him because he respected her literary talents, not because he worried about her economic and marital state. As the conversation progresses, the Doctor indicates concern that he might alienate Arabella and worries that he might offend her and then lose her respect. Similarly, two letters written by Johnson to Lennox reveal his continued efforts to support her and smooth out any quarrels.61 In the confident hand of his middle years, he wrote to her in an undated letter about how sorry he was that she “misunderstood” him concerning some books that he had asked her for. I did not write for my Books but for their names which you did not send … I wish you would for once resolve to use any method of transacting with your friends but that of letters. You will, in whatever part of the World you may be placed, find mankind extremely impatient of such letters as you are inclined to favour them with. You can send your letters, such as the last but one, only to two sorts of people, those whom you cannot pain, and those whom you can, and surely it is not eligible either to give mirth to your enemies or to raise anger in your friends. I have no pleasure in saying this, and am glad that I have delayed beyond the time in which I might have been inclined to say more. I have no inclination to continue quarrels, and therefore hope you will again allow me, now I have vented my resentment [,to be,] Dear madam, your most obedient, and most humble servant, Sam Johnson.62

Lennox’s tone in the preceding letter, which is unfortunately lost, had worn on Johnson’s patience, just as the Doctor looks condescendingly, yet lovingly, upon Arabella and makes clear his expectation that she resume more civil behaviour. Johnson and Lennox’s relationship was intimate enough for such quarrels, and Johnson cared enough to continue his correspondence, having waited so as not to say anything he would regret. Heartfelt reconciliation was also familiar. In a letter possibly written near the end of his life, Johnson apologized for another quarrel. Dear Madam, When friends fall out the first thing to be considered is how to fall in again, and he is best that makes the first advances, I have designed to come to you ever since half an hour after you ran from me but I knew not whither. I did not when I began

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intend to say more [than] the first sentence, nor when I left off, to have a final quarrel. Pray, my dear, think no more of it, but come to me or let me know when I can come to you, for the thought of driving you away will be very painful to, Dearest Partlet, Your most obedient &c Sam Johnson63

Here, we can see Lennox and Johnson’s intimacy fully developed. In a previous encounter, Johnson has apparently said more on a subject (unknown to us now) which he feared upset her – hardly surprising, since Johnson was often accused of bold and direct talk. This time, when he tried to conclude the conversation, they ended up fighting. In an attempt at reconciliation, Johnson admits his error of saying too much and expresses a desire to end their fight. He was not often concerned about disagreements within his close circle, so it is notable that he bothered here – and equally notable that these two volatile individuals managed to maintain their intimacy over almost an entire lifetime. Showing her that he understood her feelings, he was doing what was necessary to repair their relationship. Ending with “Dearest Partlet,” Johnson not only perfectly conveys his affection for Lennox but also slyly indicates a fact they both knew, namely that neither of them was particularly easy to get along with. “Partlet” is Shakespeare’s term for a domineering woman, but used in “a mood of affectionate exasperation.”64 Furthermore, Johnson added a postscript to this letter, which showed how intimately he understood Lennox. He knew her words did not reflect her true feelings and wrote, “I have not read your letter nor will read it, till I know whether it is peevish or no, for if it be you shall have it again.” Lennox herself used the word “peevish” to describe herself,65 so it would not have surprised her that Johnson was hesitant to engage with her when she was in that state. Both of these letters reveal Johnson’s concern over losing Lennox because of some minor disagreement, and his tone reflects how much he cherished her. In the last chapter of The Female Quixote, Lennox gives the Doctor similar sentiments when he admits his fears of offending Arabella: I am afraid, replied the Doctor, of a Dispute with your Ladyship, not because I think myself in Danger of Defeat, but because being accustom’d to speak to Scholars with Scholastick Ruggedness, I may perhaps depart in the Heat of Argument, from that Respect to which you have so great a Right, and give Offence to a Person I am really afraid to displease.66

This reflects Lennox’s position that as a young, idealistic, female author she might have been held at a distance under the pretence of “respect.” While her

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character’s limited reading has made it difficult to function in society, Lennox’s inexperience in the literary marketplace creates barriers for her. However, for both Lennox and Arabella, their gender was at least part of the problem, and they were learning the ways in which they would need to change in order to cope – yet also finding ways to maintain their dearest principles. Their struggles with quixotism and reason were the embodiment of the difficulties of ever entirely agreeing on a definition of “right thinking.” A Nobler Art Lennox’s engagement with male writers can be seen in the personal conversation between Lennox and Johnson, but The Female Quixote can be perhaps more usefully set against the backdrop of Enlightenment philosophy. As if in response to Johnson’s struggles to allow truth and imagination to coexist, the quixotic novel parodies the kind of truth required of the new novel.67 As a teenager, Lennox had struggled with strict binaries in her poem “On Reading Hutchinson [sic] on the Passions,” where she sardonically criticized a philosophy that insisted on reason and thus constrained emotions. The Female Quixote also responds to her first novel-writing experience, where she had made use of true events and people. Through writing that novel, Lennox came to realize intimately how impossible telling the “truth” actually was. Now, in The Female Quixote, Lennox showed how one young woman sets up her moral code. Although its foundation is inherently flawed, Lennox creates a protagonist, Arabella, who lives by her own ethics in a strictly rational way. Lennox then forces Arabella to confront her own perception with that of the society in which she finds herself. Thus Lennox uses her novel as a test site to question truth as manifested in “reason” and “morality” and engages a philosophical discourse about epistemology. The novel itself resists strict binaries and illustrates the peril of accepting any ideology whole cloth, by uniting (albeit imperfectly) distinct ways of thinking and describing the result as “affection of the mind.” In The Female Quixote Lennox posited a question that by the middle of the eighteenth century had begun to emerge in Enlightenment historiography and philosophy, through philosophers like René Descartes, John Locke, Thomas Hobbes, Adam Smith, and David Hume. Hume’s An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1748) appeared around the time that Lennox was writing The Female Quixote. The novel asks how one can know not just what is reasonable, but also what is good. She engages this question in the tradition of Bernard Le Bovier de Fontenelle68 and Francesco Algarotti, who published dialogues between older male authority figures and young clever women. It is notable that both of these men’s texts were translated into English by Lennox’s foremothers: Fontenelle’s

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A Conversation on the Plurality of Worlds by Aphra Behn in 1688 and Algarotti’s Newtonianismo per le dame by Elizabeth Carter in 1739.69 Thus Lennox is joining a conversation encouraged by Behn and Carter. Although Arabella’s dialogues begin with Glanville, it is only when the more knowledgeable Countess and Divine can meet on her intellectual level that Arabella is able to see a way to change. These wise counsellors address Arabella on her own terms and treat her mind as important. Like Arabella and the Divine, Lennox was in conversation with an older male authority, Francis Hutcheson. Hutcheson believed that mankind was born with a natural inclination towards virtue, or “moral sense,” and naturally considered it beautiful and exciting to pursue this moral sense. Lennox builds on Hutcheson, but ultimately contradicts him. In order to examine truth, reason, and morality, Lennox sets up a narrative to show how “judgment” is relative. One’s past experiences might vary radically from another’s, and this will have a bearing on how each perceives good and evil. In questioning whether moral facts actually exist, The Female Quixote advocates moral scepticism. Lennox began her inquiry when she wrote “On Reading Hutchinson on the Passions.” Here we see her first attempt to grapple with relativism. Hutcheson, one of the founders of the sentimental school, was one of the most original and wide-ranging moral philosophers of the eighteenth century and was especially popular at mid-century in the Scottish Enlightenment.70 He has also been described as potentially “the most influential and respected moral philosopher in eighteenth-century America.”71 His early Inquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue was taught at Harvard as early as 1730, so it is even possible Lennox encountered his ideas in New York. Lennox’s poem could have been written as early as age eleven, while she was in America, but it is more likely that she wrote it while living with Lady Mary Rockingham and had access to Lady Isabella Finch’s library. She must have had a particular affection for this poem, as she reprinted it four times: first, she included it in her Poems; then, Harriot Stuart “wrote” it while seeking refuge in a convent and simultaneously concealing that “love was still the favourite subject of [her] Muse”;72 later, Lennox revised it for “Proposals for a Printing by Subscription” of Poems on Several Occasions, printed eight months after The Female Quixote appeared;73 finally, she included it in her periodical the Lady’s Museum in 1760. In the final version of the poem the poet is not satisfied with the stoic philosophy that suggests that moral and intellectual perfection simply requires good judgment (reason), which will eliminate destructive emotions. The periodical poet is more burdened with worry, anger, fear, grief, and impatience, and doubts that Hutcheson’s “soft philosophy,” which claims to be interested in the welfare of all people, could really help her. Although she

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wishes it could, she believes she has far too much spirit for his tame approach to living. “On Reading Hutchinson on the Passions” Thou, who thro’ nature’s various maze can’st rove, And shew what springs the rapid passions move; Teach us to combat anger, grief and fear, Recal the sigh, and check the starting tear. Why was thy soft philosophy addrest, All to the vacant ear, and quiet breast? With ease may peaceful apathy be taught To these who stagnate in a calm of thought Whose hearts by love or hate were ne’er possest; Who ne’er were wretched, and who ne’er were blest: Who one dull slumber through their lives maintain, And only dream of pleasures and of pain. Serenely stupid. So some gentle stream Steals thro’ the winding valleys still the same; So silent down the muddy channel creeps; While the soft zephyr on its bosom sleeps. My fervent soul a nobler art requires, Not to suppress, but regulate her fires: Some better guides, who temperately wise Allow to feel, yet teach us to despise. To reason’s sway subject the soul’s domain, And not subdue the passions, but restrain.

In this Lady’s Museum version revised after the publication of The Female Quixote, the poet scoffs at Hutcheson’s simplistic approach, suggesting that it probably only works for the “Serenely stupid,” who “lack fervent souls.” The speaker scorns a system that claims an easy solution. Lennox makes the language even more direct and angrier, for example replacing the description of those “who idly rove amidst the Calm of Thought” with the phrase “who stagnate in a calm of thought,” but she also completely replaced the last six lines with more pointed wishes. The speaker makes clear that she does not want to suppress her desire; rather, she seeks guidance from those who are “temperately wise” to teach her the “nobler art” of regulating her feelings, not blindly suppressing them. Promoting the idea that truth is relative, the Female Quixote attempted to be that “temperately wise” guide by testing Hutcheson’s philosophy, embracing aspects of his thought while challenging others. Lennox does this by taking a

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well-known text and turning it on its head. She presents a protagonist who is in (almost) every way the opposite of her predecessor Don Quixote: Arabella is not only a woman, but a young, aristocratic, and English woman. Because of Arabella’s gender and class, she is virtually always confined to domestic spaces or supervision. Since she is younger than the Don, it is easier to accept that she would be convinced by French romances of antiquated and fictional ideas of courtship and conjugal love. Don Quixote, on the other hand, is more often determined to be mad by those he meets. Arabella’s friends think her odd, but more reasonable. Lennox, in fact, represents strict reason by using Arabella’s fiction reading as the proof text for her own moral reasoning. Lennox eventually takes apart Arabella’s ideology by placing the protagonist in respectful conversation with a wise Countess and a Divine. These conversations in fact raise questions about the very form, that is fiction, in which Lennox is writing, and interrogate the value of the new novel. What can this new genre teach readers that other forms cannot? Since fiction was under attack for its corrupting influences on young people, and especially on young women, The Female Quixote was particularly timely. What do readers need to come equipped with before they read fiction? Ultimately, what is good about fiction? Does it teach one moral stance, or does it instruct the reader to weigh various moralities? Lennox addressed the scepticism towards fiction that was thought the mark of a genteel person. She prods readers to see how the author’s imagination influences their imaginations. When a reader connects with Arabella, who is desperate for a system to make sense of her coming of age and thus thinks fiction is history, s/he connects with his or her own imagination. Thus Lennox helps her readers see the relationship between the power of fiction and the power of the mind to use fiction as one needs it, regardless of one’s moment in time. She makes it materially clear just how much truth is relative, and thus how “right thinking” is relative to individual circumstances. From the beginning Arabella demonstrates that she has reason. Yet she also claims that love is fundamental. Near the beginning of the novel the narrator tells us, [Arabella’s] Ideas, from the Manner of her Life, and the Objects around her, had taken a romantic Turn; and, supposing Romances were real Pictures of Life, from them she drew all her Notions and Expectations. By them she was taught to believe, that Love was the ruling Principle of the World; that every other Passion was subordinate to this; and that it caused all the Happiness and Miseries of Life.

Love as creator and destroyer of contentment had been a central theme to the development of the novel. Though Arabella’s sources are not valued by her society, she still demonstrates a logical mind in the way she synthesizes the information

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available to her and creates a strict set of rules in the hopes of establishing a happy life for herself. Lennox writes for the “sensible reader”74 who is aware enough to see the larger frame that she has erected and who will appreciate not just fiction, but this new form called the “novel.” In challenging her reader’s own moral sense, Lennox is also engaging with the idea of the impartial spectator, known to be most widely promoted by Adam Smith, a student of Hutcheson’s. This notion is that the spectator determines whether morality is present in a rational agent by the agent’s genuinely benevolent affections for others. The spectator approves when that agent desires happiness for another person, regardless of how the agent feels about herself. Those whose self-love supersedes benevolence are condemned. Lennox makes the reader the impartial spectator who is watching the motivations of each character from an omniscient position. In this way the reader is encouraged to consider each individual’s subjective perspective and choose a benevolence based on the circumstances the character faces over self-love. Lennox agrees with Hutcheson in “refus[ing] to see quixotism as an expression of fundamentally conflicting rational desire.” He sees it as “a sign of generous dedication to the common good.”75 Hutcheson’s Inquiry … Concerning Good and Evil (1725) and Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections, with Illustrations Upon the Moral Sense (1728) asserted that moral sense was felt first, rather than reasoned into existence; and that a person can act for the common good only through feeling, not force. Arabella’s desire for the good of others is most deeply felt when she asks women to relay the injustices, “quite contrary to the Laws of Good-breeding,” in their own life stories.76 That is, the narrative assumes that each person has a natural moral sense, and it is not simply conjured through external pressure. Thus, Arabella is a response to Hutcheson’s belief. Neither the reward of financial security nor the punishment of her uncle’s wrath convinces her to change her personally established moral code. Lennox also shows how Arabella must come to terms with her society. Though smart and logical, she will have to continue in her isolated life if she does not take into account how those around her think. Her morality will have to conform, at least to some degree. Hutcheson did not think people were capable of genuine malice, and Lennox portrays Arabella as clueless, not malicious. Arabella clearly wants to be good, as she has chosen praised heroines as her models. However, she wonders for much of the novel if she cannot be good, while also thinly veiling her contempt for the mere mortals with whom she lives. In her struggles she illustrates the difficulties of using one’s own idea of reason to form one’s own particular moral code, but her outcome rewards these struggles. Arabella establishes her rules based on a particular genre and a heroic age long before her own. Lennox’s narrator asks, “What does it mean to love in England

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today with flesh-and-blood humans, not with fictional characters from the past?” Lennox, through Arabella, was a “radical historiographer” questioning the linearity of history, as well as a confined “English” way of thinking,77 and she reminds us that Arabella represents all readers who would like to escape into a narrative, rather than accept the human beings who live and breathe in our own moment in time and space. As Arabella tests her rules about love, she discovers that for her moment in time her precepts must be adjusted based on how people currently express love. She must consider others, not just herself. The last section of the novel is the best illustration of Lennox’s engagement with strict reason through an exploration of Hutcheson. Though rushed, this final statement seals her point that a love match can meld sharp reason and deep emotion. Lennox does not conclude with a proclamation about how Arabella and Glanville are joined in every emotion, nor in their admirable reason. Instead, these two concepts are combined. The novel also concludes with starkly distinct marriages. Sir George, who is “entangled in his own Artifices,” is shamed into marrying Miss Glanville, and the two are “privileged to join Fortunes, Equipages, Titles, and Expence.”78 As the superior match, Arabella and Glanville in the last line of the novel are united in “every Virtue and laudable Affection of the Mind.” “Affection of the Mind” was an expression of the period that described a wide range of intangible experiences, such as a feeling of mercy or a sense such as smell. Hutcheson invoked this phrase in An Essay when explaining “the perfection of virtue,” which consists in “having the universal calm Benevolence, the prevalent Affection of the Mind, so as to limit and counteract not only the selfish Passions, but even the particular kind Affections.”79 It is as if Lennox has lifted the conclusion to her novel from Hutcheson’s claim. The phrase contrasts with selfishness and is similar to calm benevolence. That is, “the perfection of virtue” is both a controlled and an intangible experience. Lennox also notes that Arabella shares “every virtue and laudable affection of the mind” with a man who values her “noble powers of reason.” Thus, Lennox signals that Glanville and Arabella have joined both their minds and their emotions in a way in which their society would approve. That is, Arabella has learned from her conversations and experiences and has grappled with “right thinking.” Thus she is allowed a marriage that honours three distinct elements that constitute an individual: her critical mind, her feelings, and her desires. Although Lennox’s ending is succinct, and although she indicated she was not entirely happy with it herself, it is remarkably satisfying when Hutcheson’s philosophy is considered. As Motooka argues, “Arabella’s sudden transformation from singular quixote into empathic sentimentalist … is unsurprising.”80 In fact, she might have begun to see what Mary Wollstonecraft later describes in A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. A strict enforcement of manners and morals has

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deleterious effects on gender construction. Lennox found a way to redeem the Quixote figure – not simply through marriage, but through a union of dichotomous world views. Uniting the affections of Arabella and Glanville’s minds also collapsed the distinction between individual and social interests. The Female Quixote was an enormous success, putting Lennox on the literary map and securing her a place in the literary canon. Lennox’s epistemological test joins the tradition of philosophers attempting to move society, and it has fascinated readers for over two hundred and sixty years. Johnson wished Lennox’s novel “the success it deserves,”81 and Richardson was so impressed that he began seeking future writing projects for Lennox, saying that he “does not know of a better writer.”82 Fielding’s praise was more specific: he wrote that she had created a more probable plot than Cervantes, since some of his incidents were exquisitely ridiculous. He excused Cervantes with the claim that men do more ridiculous things than women do, and ultimately he concluded that Lennox’s genius was equal to and in some ways surpassed Cervantes’.83 Johnson celebrated Fielding’s encomium. He knew Lennox better than Fielding and recognized that she was in fact very interested in teaching and improving her countrymen, perhaps in even more direct ways than Cervantes had been. Lennox’s strategy of subverting the Quixote trope to serve a female protagonist has proven an especially useful narrative approach and perhaps most pervasively demonstrates Lennox’s independent mind. A number of early nineteenth-century authors also take it up to demonstrate the peril of dangerous ideologies.84 The “female Quixote” trope had revolutionary connotations, for example when the Rev. Richard Polwhele, in The Unsex’d Females (1798), denounced Wollstonecraft as chief among “the female Quixotes.” Also, Mary Shelley referred to herself as “a female Quixote,” and her protagonist in her 1835 novel Lodore had “something of the Orondates’ vein in her ideas.”85 In addition to themes established by Cervantes, such as the value of reason over imagination, the reader’s inside knowledge that the protagonist cannot see, and the instability of evidence, Lennox set in motion a metaphor that points to the importance of mothers, the nuanced intelligence of female Quixotes, and how they must even more carefully negotiate their own thoughts with the impositions of society. Lennox hit a nerve in switching the Don’s gender, allowing a convergence of reason and emotion that forced a rethinking of the value of distinct perspectives. Lennox and Johnson are the very embodiment of this laudable uniting of “the affections of the mind.” Seven years after The Female Quixote’s publication, Johnson drew on quixotic allusions in his novel Rasselas.86 Rasselas, Pekuah, and Nekayah are engrossed in their own quixotic project, a search for happiness. In this story, Johnson expanded on the musings of Lennox’s Divine, who struggles when he realizes that in confronting Arabella he is “now engag’d in a Controversy

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for which he was not so well prepar’d as he imagin’d and was at a Loss for some leading Principle, by which he might introduce his Reasonings, and begin his Confutation.” The “principle” that he quickly lands upon is happiness. Tho’ it is not easy, Madam, said he, for anyone that has the Honour of conversing with your Ladyship to preserve his Attention free to any other Idea, than such as your Discourse tends immediately to impress, yet I have not been able while you was speaking, to refrain from some very mortifying Reflections on the Imperfection of all human Happiness, and the uncertain Consequences of all those Advantages which we think ourselves not only at Liberty to desire, but oblig’d to cultivate.87

Johnson’s future Rasselas, perhaps goaded by Lennox’s fictional protagonist, felt “oblig’d to cultivate” happiness. Arabella, Prince Rasselas, and Princess Nekayah (his sister) share the same impulse to leave “tasteless tranquility”;88 the mad astronomer in Rasselas is also a striking counterpart to Cervantes’ knight. In fact, Imlac and many of the others they meet on their journey harbour private quixotic ideals of imagination and hope. Lennox influenced Johnson, and perhaps she even found it amusing when he picked up her thread and turned it into a tale which employed as its foundation the universal human tendency towards quixotism. In keeping with Lennox’s ideas about the relativity of right thinking, Johnson writes a “conclusion in which nothing is concluded,” and each character proposes a different choice of life. Lennox’s effect on Johnson’s writing was only just beginning.

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Chapter Five

Debating “Genius” 1753–4 Ages 25–6

Good advice is what every body cannot, and many will not give; and it is at least an instance of friendship to hazard it, where one may be almost sure of its giving offense. (Sophia, 57)

Hutcheson’s philosophy may have seemed like reasonable advice for an aristocratic woman with no material concerns, like Arabella, who lived on a country estate and had a large inheritance.1 However, for Lennox his philosophy was insufficient, since she was scrambling to publish as much as she could in order to pay the bills. In fact, the rushed conclusion to The Female Quixote is tangible evidence of Lennox’s material needs. Since she was economically chained to Alexander, she did not have the luxury of enjoying the fullness of a union of mind and affection. Her husband, even if he began as a compatible partner intellectually and emotionally, was not useful in the more practical aspects of life. Added to these strains, Lennox was repeatedly ill, which might suggest the possibility that she had miscarriages around the age of twenty-three. Nevertheless, immediately after the publication of The Female Quixote, she had to get back to work trying to publish again. Fortunately, Richardson and Johnson were delighted with her work and anxious for her to publish more. Their support and Lennox’s success at reversing the gender of Cervantes’ protagonist in The Female Quixote gave her the confidence to tackle another iconic pan-European author, Shakespeare.2 She also had the support of other friends, including John Boyle, Earl of Cork and Orrery, Italian author Giuseppe Baretti, and the poet Mary Jones. Through these friendships and through her work on Shakespeare, Lennox would carefully consider what “genius” meant to her. In typically iconoclastic fashion, she ignored the accepted definitions and asserted her own conclusions. She sensibly explains that “In order

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to make a true Estimate of the Abilities and Merit of a Writer, it is always necessary to examine the Genius of his Age.”3 Lennox understood that, like right thinking, the definition of genius was relative. Being specific about the qualities of genius was necessary before a claim could be asserted. Shakespear Illustrated (1753–4) was not only a scholarly project, rare for a woman to attempt, but also an evaluation of the playwright who had come to be seen as the paragon of English literature that found him wanting.4 This publication was highly charged, since Shakespeare was a beloved English author and Lennox’s critique that he lacked originality would be perceived as problematic. Still, although she may not have realized it as she was parsing the qualities of true genius, this project would not only make her a celebrity but also attract learned critics. In the year that Lennox published this critical work, Arthur Murphy was proclaiming the sacred value of Shakespeare: “With us islanders Shakespeare is a kind of established religion in poetry,”5 and one in six theatrical performances between 1701 and 1750 was a play by Shakespeare6 – so taking on this sacred author was an extremely bold move.7 In her study of Shakespeare, Lennox wrote literary criticism for the first time. As a budding writer herself, she was interested in how storytellers found their ideas and curious about how Shakespeare had become so successful. In studying Shakespeare, Lennox explored the way he developed narrative, that is, his techniques of invention. In contrast to her predecessors’ celebrated work on Shakespeare, by esteemed critics such as William Guthrie (1747), William Mason (1751), Richard Hurd (1751), and William Dodd (1752), who called Shakespeare a genius,8 Lennox did the spade work of locating the sources that informed Shakespeare’s plays. As a result, she learned that this lauded author drew large parts of his plots from earlier authors, sources she regularly referred to as “novels.” For this twentyfour-year-old poet and novelist, all “fiction” – even that which is written for the stage – should be held to the same standards. She illustrated Shakespeare’s immense debt not only to continental sources but also to English history and legend, and thus reinforced national culture.9 Studying nineteen of Shakespeare’s dramas, Lennox performed the tedious work of a scholar, finding the sources that Shakespeare used to develop the plots of his plays, first written in English, French, Italian, Latin, or Danish. The task of gathering these texts must have proven difficult, for without extensive libraries or word-searchable databases, Lennox would have had to rely on the generosity of friends. After finding the original texts, she then summarized the English sources or translated from Italian or French into English, admitting when she had no knowledge of the original language and explaining her solution. Sources in

Figure 8 Title page of Lennox’s scholarly Shakespear Illustrated, 1753–4. Courtesy of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California, 80171.

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English included Holinshed’s Chronicles and Chaucer’s Troilus and Cressida; Italian sources, Matteo Bandello, Giovanni Boccaccio, and Ludovico Ariosto. For the Latin, Plautus’s Manaechmi, she translated from a French translation and included the entirety of the work.10 In the case of the Danish text “The Story of Amleth” in Historia Danica, from which Shakespeare took Hamlet, she was favoured with an English translation from a friend. After Lennox presented the original source or translation, she commented in each case on Shakespeare’s use of it. Finally, she added critical notes. Lennox was a pioneer of this method of collecting, translating, printing, and making observations about Shakespeare’s sources and his specific uses of each. She was almost always factually accurate and, like Arabella, she was meticulously faithful to her own standards, expecting authors to be original or at least to borrow and adapt judiciously. Lennox was full of confidence in her assessments, even if that meant criticizing Shakespeare. While she clearly did not lack persistence and skill, she may have lacked tact and self-deference. One cannot help wondering if Lennox’s unwillingness to accept unchallenged the literary assessments of the elite male scholarly community derived in part from her childhood and outsider status in England. In some instances she gives the sense of an angry and ungenerous curmudgeon. This may have had something to do with the speed at which she worked and her lack of awareness about the arena into which she was entering. Working quickly and efficiently, she produced the first volume of Shakespear Illustrated, 303 pages, about a year and a half after The Female Quixote had been published. From March through December of 1752, she concentrated on obtaining sources and organizing her work, as well as making preliminary notes of criticism. Pleased that Lennox was taking on this project, John Boyle, Earl of Cork and Orrery, gave her some materials. Orrery agreed with her approach to the new work, explaining that she was smart to be translating the sources of Shakespeare’s plays rather than “epitomizing” or “imitating” them.11 In spite of his previously mentioned sexist comments about Lennox to Johnson, Orrery seemed to have a genuine interest in her well-being. He reminded her to take care with this project, limiting herself and only translating those parts that were connected with Shakespeare. Perhaps he knew Lennox well enough to predict that she would work too hard. Thus, he encouraged her to be selective and pace herself. Orrery also offered his help with this project, to “undertake any part you will assign to me in your intended work. I heartily wish that the hints I may chance to give, might prove of future benefit to you in any shape,” but there is no evidence that Lennox took him up on this offer. On the title pages of volumes 1 and 2 in 1753 and volume 3 in 1754, Lennox boldly announced her identity as the first systematic critic of Shakespeare, with what would become her popular tagline, “By the author of The Female Quixote.”

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During these years, Samuel Johnson was also expanding his writing repertoire and had discussed the idea of doing an edition of Shakespeare. His “Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth,” accompanying a 1745 proposal for his own edition of Shakespeare, reveals his critical thoughts.12 However, this project was stymied by the claim of the publisher Jacob Tonson the younger to copyright, and Johnson became consumed with completing his Dictionary. He was also preoccupied with personal difficulty. On the day that The Female Quixote was sent to press, 12 May 1752, he wrote Lennox a short and tender note about his wife’s fatal illness, which “will not suffer me to think of going any whither, out of her call. She is very ill, and I am very much dejected.”13 Clearly their relationship extended beyond mere professional exchanges, since Johnson leaned on Lennox for moral support. He also relayed to her Millar’s respect and hope that The Female Quixote would eclipse Viscount Bolingbroke’s Letters on the Study and Use of History, which came out around the same time. Although they were very different books, commercially Lennox’s work was in fact a respectable contender with Bolingbroke’s.14 As Lennox and Johnson’s friendship developed, their debates became more pronounced. The most significant project these restless companions shared was their work to draw attention to Shakespeare, who was becoming England’s iconic literary hero. Lennox and Johnson’s debate about what the criteria for a genius were and in what exactly Shakespeare excelled was heating up. Previously some critics had discussed Shakespeare’s use of sources, beginning with Langbaine (1691)15 and Rymer (1693)16 and continuing with Rowe (1709),17 Pope (1725),18 Theobald (1733),19 Hanmer (1744),20 the anonymous editor of the 1745 Shakespeare, and Warburton (1747).21 One major point of contention in this critical debate was what languages Shakespeare would have known. For instance, Rowe accepted Dryden’s view in Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668), which echoed Ben Jonson’s much earlier claim that Shakespeare had “small Latin and less Greek.” Shakespeare, like Lennox and Johnson, was not among the traditional intellectual elite,22 and choosing him as an object of study was no doubt instrumental in securing their own places as both professionals and intellectuals. Neither had the kind of formal education that was traditionally attached to great minds, yet both saw the importance of aligning themselves with ideas of national identity and with a rising national emblem who was increasingly being considered a genius. Lennox’s research made her critical of Shakespeare’s iconic status. Johnson would be more laudatory. Lennox’s Study in Invention In fact, Shakespeare’s status as a vernacular author allowed women to enter the field of literary criticism. Not being educated in Latin and Greek was no longer

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a barrier to participating in critical conversation.23 Lennox’s career was now moving away from her identity as a novelist, and this work would secure her place as a learned author. In the early months of 1753, after she had collected sources and organized her work, she needed assistance to translate seven Italian texts and thus the aid of a native Italian with literary interests. She was quite aware of her linguistic deficiency, but she had no reserves to pay for a private tutor. However, she was resourceful in other ways and came up with the idea of exchanging English tutoring for the same in Italian. Yet finding someone who both wanted to improve his English and was up to the task of quickly teaching her Italian was difficult. Since a woman was usually limited to letter writing for networking and could not easily assert herself in public spaces, Lennox needed a male advocate to inquire in pubs and coffee houses. In this task, her husband Alexander did prove helpful. At this time, the couple were living near an Italian expatriate gathering place. Thus, Lennox’s husband walked four blocks, crossing St James Square, to the Orange Coffee-house in Haymarket,24 and found Giuseppe Baretti, who had been an Italian teacher in Venice and had very recently arrived in England. He “eagerly accepted the offer.”25 Baretti was a satirical, and sometimes burlesque, poet. A polemical figure in Venice and Turin, he had recently arrived in London, was working at the Italian opera, and was determined to improve his English. This relationship proved beneficial to both authors. It seems Lennox was a quick study. Although she may have had some prior knowledge of Italian, she learned enough to translate all six texts in just a few months. Baretti may have helped her, as he had already been writing in English for at least a couple of years. His goal must have been to polish his skills so that he could publish his first work in English, The Italian Library, in 1754. Lennox also introduced Baretti to Johnson, a welcome connection for an aspiring author who was relatively new to England.26 Lennox’s newly acquired Italian allowed her to read Lodovico Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso in its original language. Her work on this text is a good example of how seriously she engaged with Shakespeare’s use of source material. In Shakespear Illustrated, Lennox shows how Shakespeare used Ariosto’s sixteenth-century epic poem and heroic romance, specifically the fifth canto, the “Tale of Geneura,” to construct the hero plot in Much Ado about Nothing.27 The tale centres on Geneura (an alternate spelling of Guinevere), daughter of the King of Scotland, her “haughty and vindictive” love interest Polynesso, and her advocate Rinaldo. Lennox identifies a failure in Shakespeare’s characterization of Polynesso’s counterpart in Much Ado, Don John. She maintains that Shakespeare did not provide enough of a motive for Don John to rape. Shakespeare’s “Don John … is a Villain merely through the Love of Villainy.” In contrast, Ariosto had detailed this character’s ambition and need for revenge, thus creating a more believable scene. Lennox summarizes the problem: “[W]hat those Pretences were we are left to guess, which

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Figure 9 Giuseppe Baretti, by John Watts and John Boydell, after Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1773. National Portrait Gallery, London.

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is indeed so difficult to do, that we must reasonably suppose the Poet himself was as much at a Loss here as his Readers, and equally incapable of solving the difficulty he had raised.”28 Later Lennox describes Shakespeare’s “utter disregard to probability and contempt of Decorum.”29 She argues that he did not represent the ways people actually behave, nor did he satisfy his audience with explanations of those behaviours. Lennox calls Much Ado “absurd and ridiculous” because it was drawn from Ariosto’s story of Guinevere, rather than invented by Shakespeare himself. She explains that while Ariosto’s story is probable and natural, Shakespeare’s is “mangled and defaced,” so that it is “full of Inconsistencies, Contradictions, and Blunders.” Shakespeare “borrowed just enough to shew his Poverty of Invention, and added enough to prove his want of Judgment.” Lennox offers ten pages of sophisticated explication to illustrate Shakespeare’s use of “grossest artifice,” rather than the “strongest conviction” found in Ariosto’s narrative.30 Lennox was particularly fond of “The Tale of Geneura,” as it is the only narrative from Shakespear Illustrated that she selected seven years later for her educational periodical the Lady’s Museum.31 She felt strongly that if Shakespeare used these borrowed plots, he should have done something interesting with them. Here, as in many other plays, Lennox critiques his “poverty of invention, want of judgement, and wild conceits,” claiming that he added nothing that was “necessary” or “probable.”32 Indeed, she is not taking into account the theatrical nature of the texts, especially when discussing probability and characters’ internal motivation. In this sense, she is favouring the methods available to a novelist. What we see is a successful author of narratives being critical of a fellow author for what she perceives as cutting corners, the result of which was two-dimensional characters. Lennox’s critique may have been unfair, but her criticism was born from a strict belief that real genius is evident in the author who can invent scenarios that audiences will believe, that are true to their own experiences. These strong beliefs may have been the result of being an actress herself. Being on stage taught her that characters have to be plausible to the audience and need motivations for their actions. Lennox could not consider Shakespeare a genius if his powers of invention were so uninspired. Lennox’s work comparing Much Ado to Orlando Furioso is emblematic of her significant contribution to Shakespeare studies. Her source study was far more comprehensive than the work of her predecessors. Earlier critics showed some acquaintance with Shakespeare’s sources and in some cases make a comment about how he employed others’ narratives. However, they do not engage in the question of his strategies of invention beyond superficial commentary. Langbaine’s first systematic search for sources listed twelve plays and disagreed with Dryden’s earlier assessment that most of Shakespeare’s plots were to be found in Cinthio

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Giraldi.33 While Langbaine’s inventory is seventeen pages long, Lennox offered three volumes of summaries, translations, and commentary. In addition, rather than simply list source titles, Lennox studied them. She provided translations and indicated significant differences. She also showed how her work was distinct from that of previous Shakespeare scholars. Langbaine, in contrast, made no comments and relied on prior scholars for the titles of sources. Lennox allowed the sources to speak for themselves, revealing the ways in which Shakespeare was not as original as those who worshipped him in the mid-eighteenth century may have liked to believe. Where Langbaine was only suggestive, Lennox expanded the conversation. For example, Langbaine mentioned several possible sources for Hamlet, but Lennox looked deeper and saw that the plot outline was the same as that of the Danish “Story of Amleth.” She also determined that for Romeo and Juliet Shakespeare must have used Bandello’s French translation rather than the Italian original. Lennox’s method of criticism had its faults, and some saw it as unnecessarily cynical. In insisting that authors with genius write original plots, she was in essence calling Shakespeare lazy. In a sense she was performing the quixotism of her own protagonist Arabella, who for much of the novel demands pure reason. Lennox claimed, and was proud of the fact, that she ignored her emotions and would not be “swayed from her course by the beauty of Shakespeare’s poetry, the human reality of his character, or the power of his passion,”34 and favoured her principles. This approach, though limited, allowed her to make an impressive number of new discoveries based on source texts used by Shakespeare that had not been previously revealed. This was the act not just of a young writer, but of a young academic finding her feet. Shakespeare had never been critiqued by a middle-class female scholar who had published several titles of her own. Just one year after being offered the project, Lennox completed the first volume of Shakespear Illustrated, and by May 1753 it was being announced in the London newspapers. When she finished the first two volumes of Shakespear Illustrated, Johnson expressed fulsome praise in a letter: “Your remarks are … all very judicious clearly expressed, and incontrovertibly certain.” He admiringly described her criticism as in “bloom” and calls her a “bird of prey,” specifically an eagle, playfully adding, “When Shakespeare is demolished your wings will be [fully developed] and I will fly you at Milton”:35 Johnson happily imagines a Milton Illustrated in Lennox’s bright future. In fact, Lennox’s friend Thomas Birch understood that because these first two volumes of Shakespear Illustrated were such a popular success, she was commissioned to complete a third.36 In contrast, a more typical response to Lennox’s criticism of Shakespeare came from David Garrick, who was a great admirer of Shakespeare, a few months after the first two volumes had been released. Garrick explained that he was disappointed

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that Lennox “betray[ed] a greater desire of Exposing [Shakespeare’s] Errors than of illustrating his Beauties,” claiming that “many others” are disturbed by her “severe Levity & Ridicule.”37 Birch noted that Garrick was offended by “the Freedoms” Lennox had taken and boasted that he had “fix’d a Name upon her, which she highly resents, that of Mrs. Lauder.”38 William Lauder’s “unscrupulously dishonest attack” on Milton is referenced here.39 This sarcastic, even taunting, nickname was of course insulting to Lennox. Garrick was right to point out that his “Zeal for Shakespear” might be clouding his “Judgment,”40 and perhaps this was the case for the “others” that he cited as well. Fortunately, Garrick was not so annoyed with Lennox that he ignored her, but instead he took notes as he read Shakespear Illustrated and offered his professional advice. If she had a reading public that she cared about pleasing, he said, she should consider how these actions might hurt her career. Lennox might have a point, Garrick acknowledged. That is, if he were able to objectively employ his “Judgment.” Still, he argued that perhaps telling the “truth” about Shakespeare was not worth gambling her career. His parting words, “You are brave, be merciful,” summed up his combined respect and concern for her.41 In his estimation, Lennox’s boldness needed to be tempered with a bit more sensitivity to Shakespeare lovers. This advice, however, did not alter Lennox’s approach in the third volume. In fact, her single-mindedness contains echoes of the Quixote Arabella’s immovable confidence. Lennox was not unlike another female Shakespeare scholar of the same period, Elizabeth Montagu, in her resistance to the pomposity of earlier critics. Montagu found Warburton to be particularly pretentious and reported that she laughed “out many a crackling fire” when she read his Shakespeare criticism.42 Even more than Montagu, Lennox underlined her own more down-to-earth style. Although she was confident, she knew not to sound pedantic, and thus she pointedly denied any extensive knowledge of the classics, noting that she was “wholly unacquainted with the Latin Tongue.”43 Whether she knew Latin is unclear, but her assertions of humility are strategic. The act of compiling Shakespear Illustrated was evidence enough that a person who had gotten little or no formal education could not only read learned texts like Cynthio, Bandello, and Ariosto but could also incisively analyse them and publish her opinions. Johnson Joins the Conversation Johnson began his own career in comprehensive Shakespeare criticism by impersonating Lennox. Unlike Garrick, and more like Birch and Montagu, Johnson also appreciated healthy irreverence and believed in Lennox’s project, so much so that he wrote its dedication. However, readers would have understood this dedication to be Lennox’s, as Johnson did not sign his name. In fact, the Lady’s Magazine;

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or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex believed the dedication was Lennox’s and reprinted it with her byline.44 This anonymity gave Johnson a sense of freedom in his assertions about the powers of authorial invention and national literary heroism. He begins by praising Lennox, paralleling her skill at feminizing Cervantes’ novel with Shakespeare’s ability to retell a narrative with his own twist. He declares, “Among the powers that must conduce to constitute a poet, the first and most valuable is invention; and of all the degrees of invention, the highest seems to be that which is able to produce a series of events.” Johnson is asserting the importance of an original plot to determining the quality of an author and in effect setting the stage for his and Lennox’s debate about Shakespeare’s genius. He continues: To tell over again a Story that has been told already, and to tell it better than the first Author is no rare Qualification; but to strike out the first Hints of a new Fable; hence to introduce a Set of Characters so diversified in their several Passions and Interests, that from the clashing of this Variety may result many necessary Incidents; to make these Incidents surprising, and yet natural, so as to delight the Imagination without shocking the Judgment of a Reader; and finally, to wind up the whole in a pleasing Catastrophe produced by those very Means which seem most likely to oppose and prevent it, is the utmost Effort of the human Mind.45

Johnson was intimately familiar with the challenge of creating a story from scratch, and here he was intervening in the contemporaneous debate over originality vs. imitation and advocating for originality. “[T]he utmost Effort of the human Mind,” he claims, is to exhibit narrative originality. Here, he agrees with Lennox that an author cannot only retell the stories of old without offering his or her readers something born anew out of their own moment in history. Yet when Johnson eventually has the opportunity to publish his own Shakespeare he will not agree so strongly with this assertion. Johnson’s work does not see print for another twelve years. In 1756, at a time when Johnson was completely broke and had even asked Alexander Lennox for money, he finally came to an agreement about copyright with Tonson.46 Johnson was now determined to try his hand at Lennox’s task, offering a scholar’s eye to the works of Shakespeare. However, Johnson became contradictory in his writing about Shakespeare’s genius. He had felt more freedom when he was writing for Lennox, but when the Shakespeare critique was under his own name, he was more inclined to hedge. In fact, Johnson allowed Lennox to be “the bird of prey,” while he enjoyed the more celebratory mode of analysis. In compiling his Dictionary, which had finally been published the year before, Johnson had collected thousands of passages illustrative of Shakespeare’s

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use of specific words, and his intimacy with the London stage, and specifically Shakespeare aficionado David Garrick, would have animated his desire to weigh in himself. Unlike Lennox, he had the financial backing to publish the full text of Shakespeare’s plays, which would result in eight volumes. He wrote a subscription proposal that laid out his plan to read the books which [Shakespeare] read, to trace his knowledge to its source, and compare his copies with their originals. If in this part of [my] design [I] hope to attain any degree of superiority to [my] predecessors, it must be considered, that [I have] the advantage of their labours; that part of the work being already done, more care is naturally bestowed on the other part; and that, to declare the truth, Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope were very ignorant of the ancient English literature; Dr. Warburton was detained by more important studies; and Mr. Theobald, if fame be just to his memory, considered learning only as an instrument of gain, and made no further enquiry after his author’s meaning, when once he had notes sufficient to embellish his page with expected decorations.47

Johnson does not list Lennox, who had published her Shakespear three years earlier. This seems a deliberate snub, as she is one of his “predecessor[s]” from whose “labours” he will have “the advantage.” He proposes to undertake the same tasks that Lennox did of “tracing [Shakespeare’s] knowledge to the source and compare his copies with their originals,” and of commenting on the plays. As we have seen, Johnson had been an ally for Lennox, and they had a long-running mutual collaboration of ideas. He even included her often in his Dictionary. The dedication of Shakespear Illustrated was a kind gesture of support for what he considered her worthy literary criticism. However, when it came to his own reputation as a Shakespeare scholar, Johnson had no intention of giving her the credit she very rightly deserved. Johnson would end up treating more Shakespeare texts than Lennox – thirtythree in all.48 In the end, his volumes included the full text of each play, as well as footnotes. Although Johnson agreed to publish this work by the end of 1756, it seems he did not realize just how monumental the task was. His The Plays of William Shakespeare did not appear until 1765. Johnson’s long delay is still something of a mystery,49 since from 1757, and nearly every year after, he reported to various individuals that it was near completion.50 Perhaps his original promise to “trace [Shakespeare’s] knowledge to the source” proved unbearably tedious, especially after just completing his Dictionary, which he is well known to have declared a drudgery. In fact, he did not show “any great enthusiasm for the work” on Shakespeare.51 Alternatively or in addition, his reporting of Shakespeare’s use of sources might have arrived too often at conclusions similar to Lennox’s.

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Johnson’s The Plays of William Shakespeare begins with a magisterial preface, which often gets more attention than his editing practices themselves. It is clear from the vast amount of introductory material that Johnson thought of his work as the definitive and authoritative study of England’s national literary hero. Onethird of the first volume consists of texts written by others and was dedicated to putting Shakespeare studies in context. Johnson’s hefty preface is followed by the prefaces of Pope, Theobold, Hanmer, and Warburton; Rowe’s biography of Shakespeare; Shakespeare’s will; a passage related by Rowe via Pope that tells of Shakespeare’s first employment in London holding horses for playgoers; and Ben Jonson’s memorial poem. Leaving out Lennox is an oversight that is hard to reconcile. Johnson clearly valued Lennox’s mind, but he did not see fit to refer to her scholarship. No evidence exists to explain Johnson’s reasoning, but it could be surmised that he felt the need to distance himself from an author who did not consider Shakespeare a magisterial genius. The cultural climate had become even more bardolatrous by 1765, thus making critique of Shakespeare less welcome than it had been in 1753–4. Johnson’s Shakespeare is clearly a project showing Shakespeare’s importance to English literature. It disagrees with Lennox, arguing that Shakespeare’s genius did indeed lie in his superior powers of invention. Perhaps tellingly, Johnson paid less attention to source materials than his proposals had promised. He too may have seen Lennox’s complaint, but he may have felt that this criticism could not serve the efforts of canonizing Shakespeare, as his editors expected. Also, Johnson thought his talents lay elsewhere. He admitted his limitations to Sir Joshua Reynolds when he acknowledged that he was most confident in writing introductions and conclusions.52 A task like writing Lennox’s dedication to her Shakespeare work was his specialty, while dealing with the tedium of research was a chore. In addition to his preface, Johnson wrote extensive notes, but these notes were particular to specific passages and word choices. They are Johnson’s opinions and are not based on any research. Reviewers saw this lack in Johnson’s Shakespeare. They criticized Johnson for sweeping statements in his preface that did not include careful study, causing Boswell to summarize, “his researches were not so ample, and his investigations so acute as they might have been.”53 He would later be criticized for never having read any of Shakespeare’s contemporaries, except Ben Jonson.54 Unlike Lennox, he made bold statements, like his repeated assertion that Shakespeare was inventive, without the research to back it up. And in an attempt to paint Shakespeare in the best light, while still sounding learned, Johnson often contradicted himself. A common trait in much of his writing, rebuttal served him well. He sounded deliberative and learned, while never solidly committing himself to one position. Johnson had indeed met his goal of establishing a text for each play, but overall his Shakespeare did not live up to the expectations of either men of learning or the

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general public. Like Lennox, Johnson was criticized for speaking of “Shakespear’s beauties too sparingly, and of his faults too hardly.”55 In Sir John Hawkins’s assessment, “Much had been expected from it, and little now appeared to have been performed.”56 Ultimately, Charles Jennens’s scrupulous annotations of King Lear, Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth, and Julius Caesar in 1773 performed what Johnson might have imagined when he began. Instead, Johnson had not offered much that was new; rather, he had provided line-by-line expert readings and a summary of prior scholarship excluding Lennox.57 Still, Johnson’s Shakespeare was soon looked upon as the definitive critique of Shakespeare. Even into the twentieth century, this work was being praised as exceptional.58 His biographer John Wain calls Johnson’s “a gigantic labour, in every way worthy of Johnson’s stature.”59 For Lennox, both in her time and in posterity, “stature” is in fact part of the problem. Her criticisms of Shakespeare were in part dismissed because she was an uneducated, middle-class woman. And these critiques were also inconvenient to Johnson. He, and other scholars after him, could get away with not including her. He also may have fundamentally disagreed with her assessments. Yet even if this were the case, if he had taken her work seriously he would have engaged with her findings more directly and named her in his preface, maybe even included a selection of her own observations in that first third of the first volume of learned scholars, if only to show how she was specifically wrong. Their Debate It has been asserted that Lennox was encouraged to do her Shakespeare research and compile commentary as an aid to Johnson,60 but the degree to which they disagree about Shakespeare’s inventiveness, which included character development and what reflecting real life actually looks like, makes this possibility unlikely. It is conceivable that Lennox began as a researcher for Johnson, but that her results were not what Johnson wanted. Ultimately, through their respective scholarly works, what did result was a dynamic literary dialogue concerning the importance of invention to Shakespeare’s literary reputation. This debate about Shakespeare’s skill as an author, his genius, was launched in Shakespear Illustrated and continued in Johnson’s dedication, Lennox’s assertions throughout her own text, and Johnson’s own Shakespeare in his preface and in his notes. It influenced both of them to think more carefully about Shakespeare’s importance for their society and for future generations. In fact, at least one eminent Shakespeare scholar of the twentieth century has asserted that Johnson’s analysis of Shakespeare’s faults must be read “against … a background” of Lennox’s publication.61 Thinking with Lennox about what the country should value in its iconic author set the foundation for Johnson’s work.

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Johnson and Lennox consider Shakespeare’s ability to innovate as crucial to his merit as a poet. Although they agree in principle that genius required sublime innovation, a large part of Lennox and Johnson’s debate centres on Shakespeare’s method in creating his works. Lennox believed that Shakespeare relied too heavily on the plots of his predecessors and was very critical of his lack of invention. Part of Johnson’s goal in his edition was to debunk, without naming her, Lennox’s critique that Shakespeare’s reliance on source material was problematic. As if to engage with Lennox directly, and all other Shakespeare detractors, the first line of Johnson’s preface stresses this theme. That praises are without reason lavished on the dead, and that the honours due only to excellence are paid to antiquity, is a complaint likely to be always continued by those, who, being able to add nothing to truth, hope for eminence from the heresies of paradox …

These harsh words sound defensive, an ad hominem attack on those who complain that critics value age over merit. Those critics, the staunchest of whom was Lennox, are insulted as being intellectually inferior and merely pursuing contrariness for its own sake. Johnson’s project was to make Shakespeare a hero, and it would put those who doubted Shakespeare’s value, his genius, in their place. Johnson felt threatened by Lennox, but he was not willing to name her. In fact, his tone in his proposal and preface, in which he alludes to Lennox several times without naming her, is quite defensive.62 Johnson does not tolerate the idea that Shakespeare is unworthy of being preserved and boldly insults those who do not lavish praise on him. Later in the preface, he explains that Shakespeare can “now begin to assume the dignity of an ancient, and claim the privilege of established fame and prescriptive veneration.”63 By including in his preface the word “now,” Johnson asserts his own importance and reacts against Lennox’s, as well as others’, criticism of the bard’s inadequacies. He sees himself as fully responsible for returning Shakespeare to a place of honour. Therefore, he endeavours to find every manner in which to praise Shakespeare. In his dedication to Lennox’s Shakespear Illustrated, Johnson claims that the plot itself is not what makes Shakespeare such a genius, but rather his ability to entertain. Although Lennox’s dedication is an awkward place to disagree with her, Johnson insists on highlighting Shakespeare’s imagination and his diverting qualities over “the naked plot” that Lennox set out to analyse. In doing so, he appears to have felt responsible for not allowing too much criticism of the bard. He repeats his insistence that being entertaining mattered far more to an author’s genius than the stringing together of a series of events. In his own preface, Johnson asserts that Shakespeare’s merit is found in his ability to recreate the human experience so

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completely. He states, “there are no writers in English, and perhaps not many in other modern languages, which shewed life in its native colours.” This is in direct opposition to Lennox’s position that Shakespeare does not represent real life. Johnson also claims that he does not mind that Shakespeare’s plots are taken from prose fiction. In fact, he thinks it is quite helpful for the reader to be familiar with the plot before reading Shakespeare’s play: “For his audience could not have followed him through the intricacies of the drama, had they not held the thread of the story in their hands.”64 This passage seems to suggest that Johnson accepted Lennox’s criticism that Shakespeare relied too heavily on past plots. Comments made before and after he published his own Shakespeare criticism show Johnson agreeing with Lennox. He defines a genius as “A man endowed with superior faculties’ or mental powers,”65 but he acknowledges that the definition is in flux, and he frequently returns to the theme in writing and conversation. In Idler 40 he writes, “Genius is shewn only by invention,” and in applauding Milton he explains, “The highest praise of genius is original invention.”66 Yet, in his preface to Shakespeare, Johnson was not ultimately willing to accept the full implications of his own beliefs. For it is on the very issue of innovation that he contradicts himself further, with a weak line of reasoning that directly addresses Lennox: Another impediment, not the least vexatious to the commentator, is the exactness with which Shakespeare followed his authours. Instead of dilating his thoughts into generalities and expressing incidents with poetical latitude, he often combines circumstances unnecessary to his main design, only because he happened to find them together. Such passages can be illustrated only by him who has read the same story in the very book which Shakespeare consulted.67

In his use of the word “illustrated,” Johnson seems to make an allusion to Lennox’s title. Yet he also justifies the practice of relying heavily on the plots of preceding authors, since most readers will not recognize the practice. The informed readers to whom he refers include Lennox. Johnson seems to be directly addressing her Shakespear Illustrated as his primary source on Shakespeare’s originals, suggesting that Shakespeare’s reliance on prior narratives is not a problem. At the same time, he agrees with Lennox’s argument by admitting to Shakespeare’s “impediment” of not taking the “poetical latitude” he should have and accepting that using someone else’s story is not a minor infraction, especially if Shakespeare is being held up as the national author. But the truth is, that a very small part of the reputation of this mighty genius depends upon the naked plot, or story of his plays … This disposition of the age concurred so

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happily with the imagination of Shakespeare that he had no desire to reform it, and indeed to this he was indebted for the licentious variety, by which he has made his plays more entertaining than those of any other author.68

To divert attention from his contradiction, Johnson thus trained his readers’ attention on a belief that Shakespeare had “no desire to reform” his style of borrowing from others because that was not an expectation of his audiences. This certainly is a fair analysis, as Johnson encouraged his readers not to evaluate Shakespeare anachronistically. Johnson chose to downplay Shakespeare’s problems with invention to concentrate on the beauty of his portrayal of thought and action. He focused on the playgoer’s entertainment, whereas Lennox was more interested in authorial technique and method. She presented hard evidence to disprove Shakespeare’s genius, rather than relying on indications of it based on audience response. In his own preface and in the dedication for Lennox, Johnson did not reveal any deeper hesitations about the use of other authors’ plots. Instead, he only allows for evidence of Shakespeare’s innovative deficiencies in notes at the bottom of each page of text. One example of these notes is in Richard II, where Johnson explains that he is not impressed with Shakespeare’s method, which cannot be said to “affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding.” Johnson’s critical note on this play centres on how Shakespeare borrowed most of his plot from Holinshed, and he notes that Richard II was extracted from the Chronicle of Hollingshead in which many passages may be found which Shakespeare has, with very little alteration, transplanted into his scenes; particularly a speech of the Bishop of Carlisle in defence of King Richard’s unalienable right, and immunity from human jurisdiction.

Johnson explains that this observation “had been previously remarked in Shakespear Illustrated, III.103–06.”69 This is one of the three places (in Measure for Measure, A Winter’s Tale, and Richard II), always in the notes, when Johnson refers to Lennox’s scholarship; we can take this as evidence that Johnson considers Lennox a serious scholar. Although he debates with other critics and editors, in avoiding additional commentary about Lennox’s work he allows her to be the forthright critic while he fosters a more festive approach. Although he writes about source material concerning Romeo and Juliet, Johnson returns to the question in his preface and does not point to Lennox’s research when he mentions her findings. Instead, he notes that it “is observed to have followed the English translation, where it deviates from the Italian; but this on the other part proves nothing against his knowledge of the original. He was to copy,

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not what he knew himself, but what was known to his audience.”70 Here Johnson speciously argues that Shakespeare’s lack of Italian does not hurt him, since he was writing for an English audience. Clearly he is responding to an earlier criticism by stating, “it is observed.” Once more, this is Lennox, who discusses Shakespeare’s lack of knowledge of Italian in her commentary, pointing out that if he had known the language in which Bandello originally wrote, he would certainly not have chosen such a bad translation for his own work.71 Here Johnson does not name Lennox; however, he clearly feels the need to squelch her critique, though his manner of argument is showily shallow. Lennox has a point, and Johnson takes his only available recourse. Johnson’s need to respond to Lennox was not limited to the topic of Shakespeare’s strategies of invention. Her research of Shakespeare’s sources informed not only his understanding of the author’s originality but also his interpretation of Shakespeare’s narrative. In fact, Lennox was influencing Johnson with her Shakespeare criticism even after Shakespear Illustrated was published. In 1760 her Lady’s Museum discussed Shakespeare’s sources again, and she also engaged with David Garrick’s literary criticism. Here she analysed a misunderstood passage in Macbeth, hoping to “occasion a different manner of reading and acting,”72 perhaps also in response to Garrick’s essay on acting Macbeth in 1744.73 Johnson took advantage of her research and insights when his edition appeared five years later. In the fourth act, Macduff, a Scottish nobleman hostile to Macbeth’s kingship, discovers that his wife and children have been murdered. Macbeth, who is now killing out of a mad desire to do harm, is clearly responsible. Upon Macduff’s discovery of this heinous act, Malcolm, who has become king because his father was killed by Macbeth, tries to comfort him. Macduff curiously states, “He has no children.” However, it is unclear to whom the pronoun “he” refers. Lennox shows that Macduff is referring to Malcolm, his consoler, and not to Macbeth. Yet, Macbeth is the one responsible for the wife and children’s murder, and he is the one who critics assume is the “he” with no children. Lennox’s explication of this situation is quite convincing: If the sentence had referred solely to Macbeth (supposing he had no children) it carries with it rage, fury, and revenge? If to Malcolm, it is the reflection of a wise considerate man, who is thankful to his friend for his advice, but conscious that that advice is, for the present, to no purpose …

Lennox knows that Macbeth did have a child, and thus the passage is not riddled with venom. She explains that “Shakespeare displays his own character and reveals his own sentiments as a parent.” Additionally, she pointed to Buchanan’s 1722 History of Scotland, which proves that Macbeth had a son. In fact, Shakespeare

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was also a parent to three children, one of whom he lost (at age eleven) seven years prior to the first performance of Macbeth. Lennox thus demonstrated her expertise with a respected historical text and affirmed her familiarity with Scotland. Further bolstering her argument, she asserted that “Shakespear, the most exact of all dramatic historians, could never intend that he [Macbeth] should appear he had none.” By clarifying the “he” in this potent phrase, Lennox enables the readers and actors of Macbeth to understand that this is a moment of pure pain and loneliness and not a time when Macduff is thinking of his enemy. In fact, Lennox’s analysis reveals far more dramatic tension: even Macduff’s close friend does not understand his pain. This also shows Lennox’s belief that authors display their own biographies and feelings in their fictional writing and that a literary critic’s personal biography undoubtedly influences his or her critique. Johnson, who had written six pages of criticism on Macbeth in 1745 as a “specimen” of the new edition he was proposing, was clearly familiar with Lennox’s more personal analysis of Macbeth in The Lady’s Museum. Twenty years previously, he too had critiqued this passage for “two superfluous syllables”74 that “injured” the sense and measure of the lines, but he omitted this point in 1765 and instead inserted Lennox’s more substantial analysis, paraphrased in his own words: He has no children – It has been observed by an anonymous critick, that this is not said of Macbeth, who had children, but of Malcolm, who having none, supposes a father can be so easily comforted.75

By including this note, Johnson endorses Lennox’s point that author and work must be understood together. However, Johnson does not give Lennox credit for showing him this moving detail; instead he only notes that this comment was made by an “anonymous critick.”76 In effect, though, Johnson does separate Lennox from her work. His principle is not complying with his practice. Johnson’s debt to Lennox’s research cannot fully be measured, but his insistence on Shakespeare’s minimal faults is, at least in part, a reaction to Lennox’s very clear and fully substantiated critiques. Perhaps Johnson felt pressure from Garrick, the deep admirer of Shakespeare, whose plays helped keep him employed and earning handsome profits. In fact, Johnson’s Shakespeare came out in time for Garrick’s enormous Jubilee in Stratford-upon-Avon, which brought vast crowds from all over Europe. While Garrick did support some talented women, he could not abide true female independence of mind. We might interpret Garrick’s dealings with Lennox through the lens of his very antagonistic, and nepotistic, relationship with theatre manager and playwright Frances Brooke, who thought him high-handed, even tyrannical. Their strained relationship was touched off by a disagreement over Shakespeare.77

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Lennox as National Critic Although Lennox was true to her principles and immensely helpful to Johnson, critiquing Shakespeare’s genius may still have been foolhardy. Any impugning of Shakespeare’s familiarity with and treatment of his source material challenged the honour of England. Lennox was seen as disloyal, even a conspirator against national progress. John Dennis, whom Johnson referred to three times in his Plays of William Shakespeare,78 had asserted that anyone who questioned Shakespeare’s use of other authors’ material “ought to be looked upon as a Detractor from his extraordinary Merit, and from the Glory of Great Britain.”79 Lennox’s willingness to take Shakespeare off his pedestal may have earned her some criticism. In a letter designed to ingratiate himself with David Garrick, Claude Pierre Patu joked that Shakespear Illustrated should instead be titled Shakespeare Ill-Treated.80 Patu called Lennox’s a “bad book” and told Garrick he planned to say so in a review he would send to the Journal Étranger. Patu takes Lennox to task for disputing Shakespeare’s originality. However, none of this criticism precluded Lennox from publishing twelve more works in her lifetime. Six of her titles appeared in the six years immediately following Shakespeare Illustrated. Although drama critics such as Dennis and other powerful theatre personalities such as Garrick thought that Lennox was attacking England by critiquing Shakespeare, one could also argue that she was refining its literary taste and thus demonstrating her commitment to improving it. In addition, she might have thought that a blind esteem for Shakespeare could not be healthy for a nation. Her mistake, though, if she made one, was of bad timing, as her critique of Shakespeare appeared in the lead-up to the Seven Years’ War. At this moment in English history, there was a far greater need to promote this English genius than to attack him. Greece had Aristotle and Plato; France had Racine; Italy had Ariosto and Dante; Spain had Cervantes. These countries were all perceived as established cultures, whereas England had not yet achieved that status. At a moment when England’s imperial ascendancy was making it urgent to establish cultural dominance, Shakespeare had to be without fault. In contrast, Lennox felt it important to acknowledge that he was not actually telling an entirely English story. In truth, he was chronicling universal stories. A number of Shakespeare’s narratives came from the rest of the Continent, and perhaps she was most resented for drawing attention to this fact. Shakespear Illustrated certainly was not neglected at the time that it was published; in fact, in numerous venues, Lennox was seen as a scholar giving evidence to audiences and readers who doubted uncritical Shakespeare worship. The Monthly Review valued Lennox’s careful commentary, as well as her genuine criticism, rather than the expected praise Shakespeare usually received. “Her

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remarks, which are very judicious, and truly critical, are chiefly intended to prove, that Shakespeare has generally spoiled every story on which the above plays are founded, by torturing them into low contrivances, absurd intrigue, and improbable incidents.”81 Direct and punchy himself, the author of this brief commentary expresses appreciation for Lennox’s sharp criticism. The Gentleman’s Magazine also saw Lennox as a critic and considered her analysis worthy of significant attention. In a substantial review, an anonymous author described Lennox’s project: These volumes contain entertaining novels, and a play of Plautus, elegantly translated from the Italian, French, Latin and Danish; the author submits them as the original stories, on which the following plays of Shakespeare are founded … A parallel is then drawn between the play and the novel and the difference critically marked.

Highlighting Lennox’s excellent translation skills, this assessment succinctly details exactly what Lennox provides. The Gentleman’s Magazine also acknowledged Lennox’s scholarly project by excerpting her work on Romeo and Juliet to illustrate how she allowed readers to make a “just estimate of [Shakespeare’s] merit” by giving them “the whole work in which his resources are displayed, his faults detected, and many beauties of which he was supposed to be the inventor restored to those whom they were borrowed.”82 In contrast to her critics, who thought the overly opinionated Lennox was ruining Shakespeare by criticizing him, the Gentleman’s Magazine trusted its readers’ intelligence, rather than dictating a verdict. Shakespear Illustrated could be used as a resource, rather than solely as a final assessment, and was used to influential ends even in the provinces. The Pope critic Joseph Warton had been asked by Samuel Johnson to write essays on Shakespeare’s plays for the Adventurer,83 and from Winchester he wrote to his brother in 1753, “I want to see Charlotte Lennox’s book.”84 At that time Thomas Warton was a fellow at Oxford and had recently been named Poet Laureate. In that same year and the following, Joseph Warton contributed five essays to the Adventurer on The Tempest and King Lear. Lennox’s scholarship was clearly important to a sustained effort in a debate about national genius. Regardless of Lennox’s painstaking study and arguments, a large number of readers accepted that Shakespeare’s skills were impeccable. The Gentleman’s Magazine ran a long review by Thomas Barker that explained the current attitude. “It has been generally taken for granted that Shakespear improved every story which he made the foundation of a play, except where he was restrained by his regard for historical truth.” Perhaps Lennox’s skill at challenging accepted truths prompted him to call Lennox “a formidable Thalestris,” a backhanded compliment. In the early eighteenth century, Pope and other authors had invoked the Amazon Thalestris as a malevolently motivating force.85 Barker was impressed with Lennox’s rhetorical skill.

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Of all the criticisms upon Shakespear that of a lady in a late work, intitled, Shakespear illustrated … is the most bold and comprehensive; she has not only remarkd inaccurate expressions, mixed metaphors, broken scenes, or violated unities, but has attacked those powers for which his negligence has been overlooked, his invention, and his judgment; she has displayed the poverty of his invention, by shewing what he has borrowed, and the weakness of his judgment, by distinguishing the defects and incongruity of what he has added and changed.86

This level of scholarship also intimidated Barker. He admits to not being up to the task of challenging her, and even his insistent request for aid does not draw others out to oppose her.87 Instead, two months later, Lennox’s work is being cited in the same Gentleman’s Magazine as an authority concerning the source of Shylock in Merchant of Venice: Shakespeare took all his Italian stories from their English translations, as it may be fairly proved that this was his common practice, from the perusal of a late entertaining work, entitled Shakespear Illustrated.

Not only was Lennox’s work thought responsible scholarship, but it was also praised for being “entertaining.” Like the Monthly reviewer who admired Lennox’s ability to write about Shakespeare’s absurdity, this reviewer, who called Lennox a “learned and ingenious commentator,” considered Lennox’s combination of intelligent content and biting criticism amusing and entertaining.88 Lennox’s Shakespeare was also noticed in Germany, where the Journal Britannique in Hamburg lauded her dextrous examination of Shakespeare’s works. “General praise is given to the skilful analysis of ten works by the famous English writer.”89 Back in England, Lennox’s critics would have been surprised to learn that her study had made an international impression. Lennox’s critiques were making readers at home and abroad question the glorification of Shakespeare. In the “Arts and Entertainment” section of the 1757 London Chronicle, an anonymous critic invokes Lennox’s research to show that, in taming the terrifying conclusion of the Danish “Story of Amleth,” in which the protagonist sets fire to the palace and is proclaimed king, Shakespeare weakens the ending of Hamlet. The critic, by invoking poetic justice, explains, “As the Play now stands, the Innocent, contrary to Tradition, falls with the Guilty … and the World is left to judge which is worse, the Fencing of the Actors, or the Folly of the Poet in introducing it.”90 Thus, for a time at least, Lennox had made it intellectually acceptable to challenge the genius of a national hero. For example, Lennox influenced the pre-eminent Shakespeare scholar Richard Farmer, a forerunner to the famous Shakespeare duo of Steevens and Malone at

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the end of the century. The learned Farmer wrote An Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare (1767),91 which was popular enough that it went into a second edition the same year. His essay refers to the “ingenious Mrs. Lennox’s” comment on a passage in Troilus and Cressida in which she notes Shakespeare’s lack of interest in reporting his sources, one of which must have been the Iliad, and that Shakespeare must have had “faithful copies” of the Iliad; however, he is “absolutely silent” about this fact. Farmer also uses Lennox’s work to continue the conversation about the specifics of Shakespeare’s original contributions. Edward Capell, whose detailed study of Shakespeare’s sources was attached to Samuel Johnson’s and George Steevens’s canon-making works late in the century, benefited in even more concrete ways from Lennox’s spadework. His references to Shakespear Illustrated, without attribution, in a section titled “Origin of Shakespeare’s Fables” in his 1768 edition of Shakespeare’s works are the best extant evidence of the impact of Lennox’s work during her lifetime. In at least three different instances, Capell used her words and research by borrowing identical terms to describe Troilus and Cressida, by offering remarkably similar comments about the play, and by making the same observation as Lennox that Shakespeare had used Holinshed in writing his history plays.92 Lennox was not only part of the conversation, she was part of the mainstream debate about the value of the bard for literary posterity.93 The most public event that shows that she had hit a nerve occurred over a decade after Shakespear Illustrated was published. Idolization of Shakespeare reached its peak in 1769 with Garrick’s aforementioned ambitious and popular “Shakespeare’s Jubilee,” which promoted the author’s near-divine status. In honour of this occasion, Garrick wrote an “Ode upon Erecting a Statue to Shakespeare,” in which he celebrated his hero thus: “’Tis he! ’Tis he! / The God of our idolatry!”94 and prepared a sensational skit: In the manner of a theatrical “happening,” Garrick has arranged for a member of the audience (a fellow actor), dressed as a Frenchified fop, to complain – as connoisseurs of French literary taste had complained for generations – that Shakespeare was vulgar, provincial, and overrated. This gave Garrick the opportunity to voice his grand defense of Shakespeare. Although the whole business was much mocked in newspaper reports, caricatures, and stage farces, the stunt generated enormous publicity for both Garrick and Shakespeare across Britain and the continent of Europe.95

Garrick knew that by staging an over-emotional debate about the genius of Shakespeare, he would garner vast attention and create energy around his intended purpose, namely Shakespeare worship. He was responding to a threat against the glorification of his hero, most notably by Voltaire. Exposing Shakespeare’s

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authorial inadequacies was lampooned as French snobbery. Lennox never called Shakespeare provincial, but she was the English author responsible for fuelling critiques of vulgarity and an exaggeration of his genius. The fact that the skit was mocked in the press suggests that the act of questioning Shakespeare’s genius at mid-century was a more acceptable line of inquiry in the general readership than lovers of Shakespeare might have cared to admit, or that shameless and rampant boosterism was rightly derided. Parsing “Genius” The publication of Shakespear Illustrated was crucial to diversifying Lennox’s identity as an author. Lennox was already known as a poet and a novelist, but now her three volumes of Shakespeare criticism secured her place among learned scholars and kept her from being marginalized as simply a banal novelist. Some wanted her to concentrate on her poetic inclinations, while many appreciated another side of her, a talent for clear-minded analysis. Her varied abilities suggested a mind that was made for far greater heights. How she was able to become a public and learned figure without a formal education and as a woman has been a frequent question. Some commented to Lennox herself about her close friendship with Samuel Johnson. One critic in 1766 challenged a rumour that Johnson had advised and assisted “the celebrated and ingenious Mrs. Lennox” in her Shakespear Illustrated remarks. This critic publicly asked for proof in the newspapers and for “any good reason for such an insinuation,”96 as he was annoyed with the assumption and saw no proof himself. We see from the way Lennox wrote and conducted her entire career that she was remarkably independent, but this was not broadly apparent to everyone. Some saw Johnson as her ally, but not everyone. In fact, one friend was suspicious of Samuel Johnson’s sway. Soon after Shakespear Illustrated was published, Giuseppe Baretti, now not only Lennox’s tutor but her friend, shared his concerns with her. He felt a camaraderie with and sincere gratitude to her, since she had introduced him to her circle of artists and literary friends, including Henry Fielding, Sir Joshua Reynolds, David Garrick, and Samuel Johnson. Baretti “saw [Lennox’s] circle as providing access to some of the most cultured people in London and a direct line to possible publishers of his own writing.”97 During this time, he produced an essay, “Remarks on the Italian Language and Writers,” and Dissertation upon the Italian Poetry, and it is entirely possible that Lennox contributed to these projects in some way, although no evidence exists for this kind of casual collaboration. He eventually made a career in England as an author who promoted Italian language, literature, and culture. He urged Lennox, who was at a crossroads in her career, to think about what type of author she wanted to become. Baretti worried that she was being too strongly influenced by Johnson’s ideals of

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reason and his public scorn of the pleasures of the imagination. Baretti’s “Ode to Charlotte Lennox” – written in 1754, in Italian, to compliment her improved language skills, but published in English – praises, encourages, and warns Lennox. The ode describes her “sublime mind” that has “nearly reached the Aonian summit.” Baretti counsels that she must choose: continue to climb up “the difficult hill” or to “turn back” with a “despondent face.” That is, he recognizes that advancing in her career will be a challenge. As Lennox has shown her greatest interest in Shakespeare’s history plays, the “shining God Clio” (the muse of history) is offering to be her guide. In language that invokes the belief that Johnson has too much influence on Lennox, Baretti calls him an “inflexible Englishman” and charges Lennox to wake up. He has witnessed her fearlessness and knows that she is quite near even greater success, but he asserts that she will succeed best by now writing poetry about love on calm waters and nymphs filling hearts with sweetness.98 Although his ideas about a productive career may seem today like a recommendation to follow an anodyne path, Baretti seems to believe – likely in response to Lennox’s gender – that writing emotional poetry will be satisfying for her. In encouraging a stereotype of the feminine, it seems clear that Baretti did not know Lennox well, or even understand the marketplace and the nuances of English readers’ interests. The thirty-five-year-old Baretti assumes a flirtatious air with the twenty-five-year-old (and married) Lennox, suggesting in his “Ode to Charlotte Lennox,” that she is ignoring him, only giving signs of blushing, a “downcast, troubled eye.” He assumes his words “perturb” her and is not sure what her behaviour means. However, Baretti claims to have only her best interests at heart. Although he is taking Lennox’s mind seriously, his encouragement seems couched in his own interests, and perhaps reveals his jealousy of Lennox’s friendship with Johnson. He complains that she is an “inflexible follower” of her “Greek husband,” a reference to Johnson’s preference for the neoclassical poets over the Romans. That is, he claims he is worried that Samuel Johnson is keeping her from great literary success: What? But I already divine the secret cause of all this waywardness. I know who it is would dissuade you from the beautiful road. I know, I know, who is opposed to me. Johnson, inflexible Englishman, who thinks a graceful nothing a sin and a vice; who weights for a month in the balance of his judgment every one of his own lines. Johnson, whose heart is full of austerities, whose head is filled with serious philosophy; who fears that an innocent feeling can only be the key to the temple of Priapus; Johnson, Johnson, it is he who has been at you with his terrible words, and I myself feel his austere voice lording it over my own mind and senses.99

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Johnson and Baretti represented opposing ideas about her career … and her genius. Conflating Johnson with virtue, Baretti’s ode was designed to persuade Lennox that “naked and thin” virtue was overrated: she should write more like an Italian than a bloodless Englishman. Perhaps Lennox was more attracted to this style, since her Female Quixote is clearly a representation of a struggle for a more passionate and adventurous way of life, which was being constricted by proper English society. This tension, then, only increased with her choice to criticize Shakespeare, her society’s most admired literary icon. Her identity as a young woman was that of poet and novelist, offering her readers thoughtful entertainment. Yet, now she was perceived as critical and cynical. Had she betrayed her original instincts and been captured by the literary marketplace? Or by Johnson’s plans for her? Or was she really following her own interests, happy to be challenging the literary status quo and ignoring the gender expectation that women write of love and men are the learned critics? Lennox would find her own path, never again writing poetry or critiques of Shakespeare. Her independent mind would seek out a wide range of literary projects that would detail not only the problems with “naked and thin” virtue, but the structure of society itself. As 1754 drew to a close, Lennox was grappling with these questions about what was best for her, in terms of both her intellectual and financial interests. With these basic questions of identity and sustenance on her mind, she was favoured with an especially complimentary letter from Mary Jones, who lived in Oxford. A “very ingenious poetess,” who was considered “sensible, agreeable and amiable” among her Oxford peers, including the celebrated Thomas Warton, and who often socialized with Johnson.100 Jones also extolled Shakespear Illustrated and pronounced that she would “creep after [Lennox] as well as I’m able, in acknowledgment of your distance.” Lennox had been friends with Jones for some time and had hoped that she would visit her in London. Lennox struck Jones as a “superior Being,” who “seems to penetrate the Heart.” In contrast to Baretti, Jones thought that Lennox was still dedicated to writing about passion and praised her writing skill. “You soar so much beyond me, that even at first setting out, I despond, finding myself unequal to your Wing, and if I was to carry the metaphor of the feather, should at this very period drop my Quill.” She continued by comparing Lennox’s “heavenly bodies” to other writers’ “sublunary ones.” However, Jones was not just impressed with Lennox as an author. Lennox had been a true friend to her, and she confessed that Lennox had convinced me that tis possible to endure a competitor (under certain circumstances) without envy; but how is it possible ever to rise again, after once sinking in despair? This would require a spirit equal to any quixotism you’ve painted, and none but the

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ingenious author of Shakespeare Illustrated could set our judgments right again, in so humiliating a situation … I already feel myself cherished with your rays, tho their light has (you own) been so long travelling down to me.

These ambitious women competed for readers and shared an understanding in the battle against discouragement. Lennox, who now had plenty of experience with critics and despair, had inspired Jones not to be jealous of other writers, or to become dejected. Though separated geographically, they had a close connection and spoke of visiting one another in London. Jones did not hold back in reporting Johnson’s boast to her that he was “often at [Lennox’s] elbow.” Thus she asked Lennox to “make [her] compliments to” Johnson, whom Jones described as “so restless a Companion.” Compared to Baretti, Jones had a far more favourable impression of the close relationship between Johnson and Lennox: Baretti perceived that Lennox was being controlled by Johnson, but Mary Jones saw Johnson as dependent on Lennox.101 Lennox’s reputation as critic prized by the British nation had been formed through an unlikely percolation of literary moments that included her publications, her friendships, and mentions of her in a wide variety of venues. Perhaps the most notable is her place in one of the most influential dictionar­ ies in the English language. Before Johnson had denied Lennox credit in his Shakespeare, he had shown a value for her writing in his magnum opus, the Dictionary of the English Language, in 1755. Johnson had spent nine years struggling to pull together this mammoth and pioneering work, and Lennox was among the few women cited as an authority in it. Along with numerous definitions for a large portion of his entries, Johnson included quotations from the works of well-known authors to accompany most of the words he defined. The quotations, or “illustrations,” as he called them, bore the defined word and helped readers understand the context. Johnson felt synonyms did not suffice to communicate meaning.102 He noted that he had to be exceptionally discriminating in choosing these quotations, admitting that he was “forced to depart from my scheme of including all that was pleasing or useful in English Lit.” He also insisted that he chose writers he considered the most excellent or whose friendship he cherished. My purpose was to admit no testimony of living authors, that I might not be misled by partiality, and that none of my contemporaries might have reason to complain; nor have I departed from this resolution but when some performance of uncommon excellence excited my veneration, when my memory supplied me from late books with an example that was wanting, or when my heart, in the tenderness of friendship, solicited admission for a favourite name.103

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Lennox’s works were quoted twenty times in the Dictionary, which is significantly more than the four other women who are included once each, and the one, Jane Collier, who appears three times.104 If Johnson’s preface is to be believed, that meant at this time that he either particularly cherished Lennox’s friendship or considered her writing “uncommon[ly] excellent,” or both. Johnson was acutely aware that defining words was a limiting act, so he was “desirous that every quotation should be useful to some other end than the illustration of a word.” He explains, “I therefore extracted from … divines striking exhortations and from poets beautiful descriptions.”105 Lennox’s The Female Quixote was cited ten times, perhaps most notably to illustrate Johnson’s definition for “Talent,” and for “visionary or visionist.” Shakespear Illustrated was cited ten times as well, to elucidate words like “unnecessary” and “wonderful.” It is the only authority cited under “starry.”106 The fact that Lennox was cited so frequently is a tangible reminder of how much she influenced Johnson’s ways of thinking. Provocatively, the Lennox quote Johnson chooses to illustrate “Talent” is “Person’s who possess the true talent of raillery are like comets; they are seldom seen, and all at once admired and feared.” Clearly Johnson saw talent in Lennox, but perhaps he also saw the kind of raillery that she was usually able to keep hidden, and he slyly acknowledged that she generated fear in others. As a final gesture of his approval of her, and her most “railing” publication, Shakespear Illustrated, Johnson presented a copy of it to the University of Oxford, depositing it in the Bodleian Library.107 By studying the skills of Shakespeare, Lennox had not only engaged in the debate about “genius” but had also been elevated for consideration of the title herself. Johnson’s choice, then, not to give Lennox more credit ten years later when he published his own Shakespeare suggests that there were times when he was only her strategic friend. Perhaps, as friendships go, theirs was not atypical. They loved one another deeply, but rivalry was taxing on their relationship, and sometimes professional ambition interfered. For the ten years after Johnson published his own Shakespeare, we have no evidence of their communication. Perhaps Lennox was too angry. But in 1775 they are corresponding, and Johnson is confirming her acknowledged “powers” and her imminent success. And near his death, Lennox would be at Johnson’s side.

Chapter Six

Prospering in a Patronizing Profession 1755–9 Ages 26–30

[T]he world seldom espouses the part of the oppressed, because they who oppress have that on their side which is sure to exculpate them; they are rich. (Henrietta, 50)

Divergent thinking was clearly a criterion that Lennox valued, not just in Shakespeare but in herself as well. She had begun her career by walking away from royal patronage, even parodying it in her first novel, and was able to produce substantial and successful works that allowed her a taste of autonomy. At twenty-five, she had seen remarkable literary success, but by 1754 her fame as a novelist and Shakespeare critic had not converted into a large income. Because of this fact, which likely meant many instances of running from creditors, she had a succession of residences. Many of these were rooms in other people’s houses. With these moves from one house or flat to the next, Lennox carried her work with her. Books, letters, drafts, blank paper, ink, and pens – not to mention whatever other belongings she could transport – all had to be packed up, carried, or put in a carriage and conveyed to the next lodging. In this state of impoverished professional celebrity, Lennox still had her finger on the pulse of the larger literary marketplace, whose boundaries were far more porous than we often imagine. French, Greek, Latin, Italian, and even Spanish were spoken in the streets of London, books in these languages were easily available in the stalls and shops, and volumes in English frequently travelled abroad. Lennox’s initiative in making necessary literary contacts is further proof of her active role in her career. At this time, in spite of the fact that women were required to be “stranger[s]” to public affairs, she declared herself a “true Briton.” Her ability to capitalize on her literary success through her contacts, her cross-cultural interests, and her own strong command of French helped her

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extend her work as a successful translator. She declares her most successful translation, Sully, to be “filled with political wisdom” which is “not only interesting but important.”1 In the first seven years of her presence in the literary marketplace, Lennox had produced a collection of poetry, two novels, and a three-volume work of criticism; but in the next six years she worked in the even more highly pressurized environment of translation at an extraordinary pace, and her relationship with the systems that produced texts became far more complicated. Between 1755 and 1759, she not only produced four translations, but also a novel and a play. Two of the translations ended up being her most highly valued texts in terms of learning and scholarship: the full autobiography of the close confidant to Henry IV, The Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully (1756), and the first anthology of Greek drama in English, The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy (1759). Undoubtedly, Lennox had become a literary success, a respected author whose work was in demand. Her days were spent with more than one, and sometimes up to four, projects on her mind. Although she had battles and victories with all the different mid-century patronage networks – the titled and wealthy, the booksellers, and the prominent authors – she was becoming more disillusioned with the way in which power and profit controlled the literary marketplace. Lennox had to earn enough money by pleasing a diverse field of patronage circles, but she also wanted to stay true to her ideals. She was extraordinarily successful, but she lamented her servitude to the marketplace; and undoubtedly her tense financial straits contributed to her spiky personality. Tectonic shifts in the publishing world, not unlike those in our current literary marketplace, were underway. The question of who had the power to produce and allow ideas to flourish in the public sphere was still being negotiated, and thus authors struggled to determine the best paths to success. At mid-century, authorship was not considered a full-time career. Writers like Samuel Richardson and Henry Fielding sold their work for fairly small amounts to booksellers, who in turn earned rather healthy profits. Richardson’s main income was his printing business, while Fielding had obtained patronage for writing Tom Jones. To maximize their own profits, authors sometimes still initiated efforts to publish through subscription lists, which began by collecting money from a range of buyers. For example, immediately after the publication of The Female Quixote, Millar and Dodsley had attempted to capitalize on the success of that novel with a subscription publication of Poems, believing that a quarto edition, targeting wealthier customers, would turn a profit.2 However, the publication never materialized. In fact, subscription would never be a successful publication route for Lennox. Most authors sold their entire copyright in a one-off transaction,

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so whatever profits were generated from book sales usually went entirely to the bookseller. Ultimately, then, authors earned money according to their booksellers’ pleasure. Authors who were trying to earn a living from their publications regularly bemoaned their plight and placed the blame squarely on the booksellers. James Ralph, who made a career as a political writer, historian, and reviewer, argued in The Case of Authors by Profession in 1758 that there was “no Difference between the Writer in his Garret and the Slave in the Mines.” The extremely successful author Oliver Goldsmith, who had become famous for his novels, plays, and poetry, renounced the growing practice of finding fault with the writers themselves for their poverty. His comments reflect Lennox’s own circumstances as a professional author. The poet’s poverty is a standing topic of contempt. His writing for bread is an unpardonable offence. Perhaps of all mankind an author in these times is used most hardly. We keep him poor, and yet revile his poverty. Like angry parents who correct their children till they cry; and then correct them for crying, we reproach him for living by his wit, and yet allow him no other means to live.3

Goldsmith identified the double bind faced by many authors in a society that had, for the most part, left patronage behind but had not yet found a sustainable alternative. Lennox’s publisher for Poems would later lament: It is no such trifling consideration as some imagine; neither is it an easy matter to estimate the real worth of the sound Casuist, the experienced Philosopher, the skillful Demonstrator, the faithful Historian, the just Critic, the good Writer – or to say how much the age is indebted to the candour and ingenuity, and no less the spirit of liberty and benevolence of the living author – who feels as he ought, and writes as he feels.4

English society was trying to find a way to show that they genuinely valued the labour required to generate new ideas and the resources necessary to share the products of this labour with a wider audience. Intelligent people who wrote but also had to pay their own bills struggled to find a respectable place in their communities. This was Lennox’s plight, one that haunted her and would ultimately get the best of her in material terms. Part of the problem was that there were too many interested parties. During this transition from the earlier system of aristocratic and court patronage to print markets, many hardworking people – authors, booksellers, printers – hoped to profit. Fielding, who described Lennox as “shamefully distress’d,”5 struggled

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himself to make literature support him. He only turned to novel writing when his theatre, always his best source of income, was closed after the 1737 Licensing Act. His use of the word “shameful” may have been intended to indict the institutions of literature for failing to support their own. Many authors who hoped to offer their ideas and imagination to a growing population of readers shared Lennox’s plight. In that situation, authors at least had to support each other, which might explain why Lennox patronized Mary Masters, an author who had argued for women’s rights: “a Woman is equal to a Man, as being of the same Species, and endow’d with every Faculty which distinguishes him from the Brutes.”6 Masters published her Familiar Letters and Poems on Several Occasions, which outlined political and moral arguments, including discussions of women’s education and domestic abuse, in London in 1755. Lennox’s subscription to this book shows that at this moment she had at least a little disposable income. It also shows that the subscription system was about more than aristocratic patronage. It offered a means for fellow authors, friends, and well-wishers to provide support. Her support of Mary Jones and Mary Masters also proves her friendship to the cause of women’s writing even in the early years of her career. However, money would always be a struggle for Lennox. At some points during this period, she put her husband to work. He assisted with the tedium of producing the final copy of her texts. It is possible that she benefited from the fact that Alexander had continued to work as Strahan’s printer’s assistant,7 even though Thomas Gray, a Cambridge classical scholar and friend of Charlotte’s, described Alexander as a “broken tradesman.”8 Aside from this possible source of income for Alexander, the evidence shows that only Charlotte contributed to the household income. As she had so many times before, she had to accept her obstacles and work with her assets, while simultaneously maintaining her ideals. Her good sense, perhaps combined with good luck, had steered her through the shoals of society; now it would chart her course through various types of patronage. Although her name appeared often in the newspapers in reviews and advertisements for Poems, Harriot Stuart, The Female Quixote, and Shakespear Illustrated, she was apparently not seen as worthy of attention from the most elite literary quarters: Poems by Emminent Ladies and The Feminiad (1754), publications that named the most respected women poets of the age, did not list her among the women making important literary contributions. Perhaps the failure of a subscription plan for the quarto edition of The Female Quixote resulted from the fact that Lennox lacked the social prestige necessary to enlist large numbers of subscribers. Translation was a productive avenue in which Lennox could gain respect in the literary marketplace: in addition to poetry, this literary labour was considered both learned and a more normalized female practice. Eighteenth-century translators were not simply making a text available to English readers. In a pre-modern

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world, translation and adaptation (as we saw in Shakespeare’s practice) was a common authorial strategy; and during the eighteenth century, adaptation and its equivalent translation were still valued forms of authorship.9 In fact, at mid-century 20 to 30 per cent of novels were translations,10 and many well-known literary figures, including Lennox’s direct contemporaries Samuel Johnson and Tobias Smollett, were regularly involved in and respected for adapting, translating, and importing narratives from other countries or from earlier time periods. Unlike in Shakespeare practice, however, the initial author was acknowledged as the primary author. Although the first author was understood as the creator, it was ubiquitous for translators of the eighteenth century to take liberties with a text, “since literalism had been roundly denounced in the previous century.”11 Omitting large sections of the source text and inserting their own commentary without indication, translators often radically changed the meaning of a work and in effect acted as authors themselves. The translator also functioned as a kind of editor, highlighting the parts of a narrative she considered important. Dryden, in his preface to Ovid’s Epistles, notes, “too faithfully is, indeed, pedantically.” He scorned direct retelling as “much like dancing on ropes with fettered legs.”12 Although there was debate about the best practice, which had prevailed for over a century, plenty of translators did attempt to be faithful to their sources. Still, translation was far more an act of creation than would be allowed today. Lennox not only wanted to earn an income for her work, but she also sought respect for her ideas. The fact that she was well read and skilled in French made translation a natural avenue to pursue. She might have also wanted to correct what her novel The Female Quixote complained about, the proliferation of very bad translations that exaggerated heroines for the worse. Lennox’s narrator explains that it was “unfortunate” that Arabella was reading “not in the original French, but in very bad translations.”13 Lennox thus proceeded to improve the state of translation in her time. Her translation of the full text of The Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully (1756) was not only a very large project at 1676 pages but also an important foray into substantial political content.14 If she translated the 1751 edition, this project is even further proof of Lennox’s abiding interest in history, politics, and the ethics of government. Sully was known for drafting a utopian plan for a European confederation, which is considered the earliest conception of what is now the European Union. In fact, Sully’s memoir is a kind of political treatise and a reflection on the art of government, which included opposing the king’s colonial policy. By translating this French text, Lennox made notions of how to govern a nation in a manner that both encouraged growth and maintained stability accessible to a wider English readership. Here we see translation as a political act, and Lennox’s American experience as initiating her interest in England’s authoritarian role in the colonies.

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Lennox was perhaps particularly suited for the task of making foreign texts accessible to her countrymen. Making meaning through stories was her life’s work. As a young person in the colonies, she had experienced the way national histories and identities intersect and are often thought to complete people, and she knew that the English needed to be exposed to the stories of their French neighbours. Through translation she could demonstrate her literary powers in the words she used, but also in what she chose to include, delete, and even adapt. She was even able to explore the porous boundaries between history and literary criticism.15 Her heroine Arabella believed strongly in the importance of making herself understood by relating the stories of others, even suspicious others, and she advocated that individuals be extended a fair hearing. Lennox’s contemporary Catherine Talbot saw translation as a superior form of public service, asserting that a faithful and elegant translator is a character of the highest virtue in the literary republic. It implies public spirit the most void of ostentation; a kind regard for the illiterate; a love of our own native country, shown by enriching its language with valuable books; a just regard for merit of whatever country, by placing the merit of some valuable foreigners in the truest and fairest light; a care, a judgment, and exactness that original writing does not require, and some degree of humility in scarce aspiring to the name of an author.16

Readers valued strong judgment and lack of pretension in the formation of “the literary republic.” Translators had a unique power, since their identity was not attached to the message of the text. They were thus seen as serving readers more purely, more disinterestedly. Translation had much higher sales than fiction; in fact 40 per cent of the successful bookseller Thomas Lowndes’s stock was translations. Lennox knew that translating the right texts would be important to her career and her finances. Because her status had risen dramatically over the last three years, Lennox was able to contract for this important project. Andrew Millar, who had now worked with Lennox on both The Female Quixote and Shakespear Illustrated, must have trusted her skills. He needed to be able to rely on the translator he chose because this text was already deeply admired: “this celebrated work is so well known, and so universally esteemed, that it would be ridiculous in us, to think either of adding to, or detracting from the public suffrage, long since given in its favour.”17 Sully was popular in part because of the provocative number of events and themes it treats: “wars, foreign and civil; interests of state and religion; master-strokes of policy; unexpected discoveries; struggles of ambition; strategems of policy; [and] embassies and negotiations; are all to be found in this book; and all this is far from

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the whole.”18 This translation into English was an enormous project and was ultimately published in three elegant quarto volumes. Although Sully contained some fictitious stories, it was constructed from Sully’s journals. In fact, the preface to the French edition, which Lennox translated, claims that the modest “Sully himself is the true author of the memoirs … and his secretaries did nothing more than stitch them together.”19 Sully published his Memoirs in 1638, and in 1747 PierreMathurin de L’Écluse des Loges (1715–83) adapted them to become Memoires de Maximilien de Bethune, Duc de Sully, Principal Ministre de Henry le Grand, which Lennox used for her translation. The book told a forty-year story from the reign of Henry IV, specifically Sully’s role as prime minister and advisor, in which he is credited with managing both to increase Henry’s revenue and maintain a degree of calm amidst religious and civil wars in France. Known as a man of principle and a loyal friend, Sully tore up the famous promise of marriage to Henry’s first wife and helped arrange his union with Marie de Medici. Sully was also known as an important advocate for literature and the preservation of antiquities; he refused to become a Catholic when Henry converted and even later when he could have risen in power. Notably, Lennox pursued the religious thread further by adding “The Trial of Ravaillac” at the end of her third volume. On his way to visit the sick Sully, the Catholic zealot François Ravaillac murdered Henry IV on 14 May 1610 in what he considered an act of conscience because he had a vision. He must convince the king to convert the Huguenots to Catholicism and then interpreted Henry’s decision to invade the Spanish Netherlands as the start of a war against the Pope. The source for Lennox’s material is unclear, and she probably wrote most of the narrative on her own, developing the material of a “transcriber” whom she considered incompetent.20 Sully was well timed, as Lennox took on this project at a moment when classical understandings of history were being adapted to speak to the current commercial, and increasingly middle-class, needs of society.21 The dedication was dated 5 September 1755 and it was announced on 18 October 1755;22 however, the title page read 1756. Lennox dedicated her Sully to Thomas Pelham-Holles, the Duke of Newcastle, who had been foreign minister from 1730 to 1739.23 His wife, the Duchess of Newcastle, had aided young Charlotte when she had arrived from America. In 1754 he became prime minister. At this point Newcastle was still optimistic about conflicts in Europe; thus he had a personal interest in a great man who led in times of grave turmoil. However, interest in colonial empire and trade led to what would become in 1756 the beginning of the Seven Years’ War, which is often referred to as the first world war. Lennox would have been aware of the politics that were leading up to this war, and a dedication of The Memoirs of Sully in 1755 to Newcastle, “one of the most important men in English public life,”24 shows her engagement on an international scale. One

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reader drew particular attention to the ideal timing of this text as a kind of guide for England’s future. those memoirs contain an account of that time in which France just began to assume her superiority in Europe … There can be no age or people to which such a history may not be useful of pleasing, but it must more particularly invite the attention of those who like us are now labouring with the same distress, and whose duty it is to endeavour at the same relief.25

In comparing France’s earlier ascendency on the global stage with England’s current plan of asserting its “superiority,” this reader was demonstrating the timeliness of a translation of Sully for the English, who had recently become embroiled in the Seven Years’ War. This commentator, who equates the stress of France with that of England, was likely Samuel Johnson, who was personally invested in England’s global aspirations. In these years he was beginning to write more frequently about politics. Translating Power Abuse of power was one of Lennox’s favourite themes – and a constant presence in her daily life. To become a prolific author, Lennox had to directly engage with relationships of dependency. For instance, she was in some ways beholden to Andrew Millar, who was in charge of the translation of Sully even though, as the printer’s records illustrate, other booksellers – Robert and James Dodsley and ­William Shropshire – had invested in the project. Lennox and Millar had disagreed over some aspects of the publication of The Female Quixote, and this project would be no different. She deferentially wrote to him in mid-July 1755, reporting that she had completed the translation and requesting a cash advance. Only the most famous authors were occasionally paid in advance for their work, and typically authors were expected to show the evidence of completion before being paid. Millar had a reputation for being a kind and fair bookseller, and he had given her at least one cash advance in the past. However, in this letter Lennox conveys a kind of restrained desperation, a sign either of her true misery or of her savvy attempt to appeal to Millar’s emotions. The letter is a useful illustration – and thus is quoted at length – of the way Lennox negotiated her career, making few apologies for her need to bring up her oppressive circumstances. Here we see the complexities of her daily life. Sir, I hope you will not think it an unseasonable importunity, if now that I have entirely finished my work, I beg the favour to see you to morrow or next day as it shall suit

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your conveniency. I was resolved, however pressing my exigencies might be, that I would not trouble you as I have too often done with application for money before it was due, and althoug[h] I have now completed the work, I would wait your leisure, were it not for a disagreeable circumstance that forces me to solicit you to come sooner than you without knowing my reasons probably intended. Mr Lennox has been obligd to keep the house for this fortnight past. I want to remove to some place of security, till I can satisfy those persons he is most apprehensive of. When they know he is out of their reach, we can offer, and they will accept easier terms, than they will now hear of. But it is not in my power to go till you are so good as to settle with me for Sully – I am grieved to the soul about the [illegible word] I owe you, but what can I do so unhappily circumstanced as I am. Do not imagine I want to importune you, but let me say this once that if you will allow me to pay you by the Work I proposed, which I am sure will be an advantagious one to you, I will undertake it with more chearfulness than ever I did any thing in my life for however you may be prejudiced against me, yet it is a most certain truth that I have ever look[ed] upon you as one of the sincerest of my friends, to whom I have had the most obligations, and for whom I shall ever have the truest esteem, and regard, while I am Charlotte Lennox26

Lennox was simultaneously announcing her completion of an excellent translation, very difficult work that would in fact profit Millar more than herself, praising his character, and begging for money because she and her husband were in danger. She, not Alexander, would need to “satisfy those persons he is most apprehensive of.” By this date, the Lennoxes had moved at least twice. She received mail in Plow Court, Fetter Lane in November of 1751 and “over against the King’s Bakers in Berry St, St. James” in March of 1753. Sometime between 1753 and 1756 they lived at or near what was likely their third address at Gerrard St, Soho. Letters from 1755, including the one above, do not include a return address. The fact that Alexander must hide, presumably from bailiffs, in their current residence makes the urgency of receiving what is due (an unknown amount) for Sully quite palpable. “Those persons he is most apprehensive of” do not sound as if they will approach him politely. Charlotte and Alexander’s strategy is to flee, since once they are out of reach they will have greater negotiating power. This life with Alexander, worrying about their safety, was not what Charlotte, now in her midtwenties, hoped for when she married him eight years earlier. Writing was not paying the bills; however, Lennox did not give up her creative work and her literary career. In truth, for a respectable middle-class woman, this may have been her best option for income. She doggedly pursued publication

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as a source of income, as well as an outlet for her creativity and her ideas about society. Lennox’s professional success did not bring with it profitability, and while her reputation grew, the booksellers, not she, reaped the economic benefits. This letter provides a window into Lennox’s financial debt and sense of insecurity, and her need to assume a posture of humility with Millar is palpable. “So unhappily circumstanced as I am,” she feels she is indebted to him in some way, as she mentions being “grieved to the soul” about an unknown work that she owes him, something that her translations cannot redeem. Even in this letter, in which she requests an advance for Sully, she discusses a future work, perhaps the translation she would do in the following year, The Memoirs of the Countess of Berci. Earlier Lennox had revealed to Millar her frustrations with the literary marketplace, and she realized this may have “prejudiced [Millar] against [her].” However, now it is important to convince him that she will not burden him with her complaints. She is resolved to undertake this next project “with more chearfulness than ever I did anything in my life.” Yet from an outside perspective, another interpretation emerges. Not only had Lennox faced difficulties with her financial and personal life, but she now feels that her professional relationship with a loyal bookseller is not one of mutual respect – the power relationship must have been taxing. Millar was well known for his amenable relationships with his authors, but the letter does not suggest that Lennox consistently experienced his fairness. Lennox’s frustration over the long tedious hours she spent writing in cramped and dark quarters and the constant moving to avoid creditors understandably made her irritable, and at times enraged. However, like any committed professional, she put her frustrations aside, and offered Millar her highest praise, explaining that she had “ever look[ed] upon you as one of the sincerest of my friends, to whom I have had the most obligations, and for whom I shall ever have the truest esteem, and regard.” Politic or sincere, it was her best attempt. Although this negotiation with Millar suggests Lennox’s outstanding rhetorical facility, she also had trusting relationships, including professional ones. The greatest number of her extant letters were written to Samuel Johnson, and in these she shows no suspicion of him or of their relationship. Perhaps since they met as near equals in the publishing world, she felt a kinship with him. They lamented together the grinding life of the professional author, especially for those without family money. Johnson also struggled financially during these years, at some points even more than the Lennoxes. More than once he asked for money from Alexander and Charlotte, and in 1756 he was forced to go to debtors’ prison. Alexander’s subordinate place in this scene is notable. He and Charlotte were clearly in this predicament together, but contrary to many of her contemporaries, whose husbands or brothers aided in negotiations with publishers, Lennox advocated for herself. Yet because of the eighteenth-century legal status of wives,

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whatever money she earned belonged to him. The fact that Alexander stayed out of sight meant that he was not bringing in any, or enough, income himself. His debts were so large, and so long-lasting, that his creditors were searching for him. In fact, he must have feared that he would be arrested for debt. Still, he was again helping his wife with her projects, perhaps this time as her amanuensis. He did the tedious work of creating the extensive index to Sully, working six to eight hours a day for the past three months “filling up” the twenty-sheet list of topics and page numbers, when only sixteen had been planned.27 After supporting her by locating Baretti to help with her translations for Shakespear Illustrated, this was the second instance in which we have evidence of Alexander assisting in Lennox’s writing. Unfortunately, Lennox’s attempt at diplomacy with Millar did not have the effect she hoped for, and she was clearly furious. Millar quickly responded to her letter, but through the pen of his servant, which Lennox took as a sign of his not taking her seriously. But most vexing was his denial of her request for financial assistance. She therefore proceeded to remind him that she had complied with the agreements of the contract, having completed Sully in its entirety, and then translated the index, which she also reminded him was not part of the original agreement. Her tone was even more desperate, and again it is unclear whether she was being sincere or simply exaggerating pathetic circumstances to somehow muster sympathy from Millar. Lennox used Alexander’s need for the money, and his confinement (because of debt collectors) for three weeks in the house, as her strongest argument for their need. Since they were then not able to leave town, they seemed even more at risk. Though Alexander was probably not ill, as she claims, this time she ignored decorum and exclaimed that she was “tired to death about the money.” She also invoked the plight of a man she employed to help her with the notes. Assuming the role of free agent, she had enlisted this assistant for five guineas. Now she expected Millar to comply with her “reasonable and just request.” She hoped this more forthright letter would show Millar his lack of appreciation for the “difficult and tedious” work required to complete Sully. Lennox’s hope at times seemed to spring eternal. In fact, her persistence, which was sometimes a torment to others, was one of her greatest assets. Yet, this time, there is no evidence that Millar ever replied. These are the circumstances in which Lennox frequently worked in this period of her career. While still a literary celebrity, with her works often being advertised or reviewed in the newspapers, she was pressed for time and money, and feeling unfairly treated by those who were able to make the final decisions and held her fate in their hands. As Lennox’s spiky character Henrietta explained, “Take my word for it, it is no great compliment we pay to persons, when we tell them that all the world speaks well of them; for those who are remarkable for any shining qualities will be more envied than admired, and frequently more calumniated than

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praised.”28 Lennox worries that some are prejudiced against her. All she could do was earnestly hope that the production of Sully would go quickly, perhaps simply for financial reasons or because of her numerous other commitments. She writes, “I am very anxious to have this book finished. Methinks the Printers go on but slowly. The sooner it is presented to the Duke, the better.”29 However, she may have also realized the urgency of seeing her Sully in the bookstalls because of the political circumstances in that particular moment in time. Bringing Sully’s full memoir to the English and dedicating it to the Duke of Newcastle, who had the power to “steer [them] not only safely, but triumphantly,” was a political act. The dedication to him indicated a familiarity with the Newcastles, even after her falling out with Lady Isabella Finch and Lady Mary Rockingham when she married Alexander. Dedications were not published without the permission of the dedicatee. Thus, translating the text and bestowing it upon the Duke of Newcastle suggests not only his literary support but also some degree of political agreement. This dedication also points to Lennox’s understanding of her own role as “the Voice of the People,” even as a woman who, she savvily claims, was thought to be “a stranger to public affairs.” I can claim no praise from my own discernment; because I only echo the Voice of the People, and address myself, where that leads me … Though my sex and manner of life make me a stranger to public affairs; I yet discover of myself, that the History I have translated, is not only interesting but important: and that the original author of it was not only well versed in all the prime operations of government, but that he saved a Nation, by bringing method and order into every branch of her revenues, and administering the whole with the most accurate economy … A book, thus filled with political wisdom, could be fitly offered only to him, who lays out his whole time and attention, in labours of the same tendency; and for the service of a more free, and therefore a nobler People … That Providence may co-operate with your endeavours; and that your Grace may steer not only safely, but triumphantly, through every difficulty of the present conjuncture, are wishes so natural to all true Britons, that they cannot be thought improper even from a woman, and in this public manner.

As difficult as the relationship with Millar was, Lennox’s communications with the Duke of Newcastle were refreshingly amiable and supportive. In bringing Sully and “The Trial of Ravaillac” to the English, Lennox may have imagined herself to have a small part in “sav[ing] a Nation, by bringing method and order.” Newcastle appreciated Lennox’s efforts and responded to the dedication with a most “liberal present” and the promise that he would recommend her to the king as someone worthy of a pension. A lifelong income from the most powerful person in the government would appear to be the epitome of success. This promise from the prime

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minister certainly buoyed Lennox’s spirits. It was nothing less than a “fairy tale ending” for any author, but for one who struggled to make a living from this fickle business, the acknowledgment signalled a particularly impressive triumph.30 However, in keeping with the unstable nature of both the publishing industry and the government in the 1750s, the actual offer would not come for several more years. Sully was Lennox’s second publication of a learned text that overtly put her in the category of national English author. It became an instant classic, and its history has been long and full. Although Millar began with an average print run of five hundred copies, demand required that the second edition be doubled. One edition in Edinburgh, produced very soon after Lennox’s, explained that the popularity of Sully was so great that too few readers would be able to afford Lennox’s translation. Instead, they had hired another translator and were only charging fifteen shillings. The volumes were considered so important to English literature that eleven editions, including three Scottish pirated editions, were published in Lennox’s lifetime and ten more after her death, including one as recently as 2005. In fact, over the course of time, more attention has been given to this work than to any other Lennox title, yet she would see none of the future profits.31 In fact, we have no evidence that she received any profits from it over her lifetime. Lennox’s identity, though, was often defined through this learned text, as she was often referred to as the “ingenious translator” of Sully – rather than as the author of The Female Quixote. In contrast to Johnson, Lennox experienced success as a translator. Johnson had not found this sort of work satisfying. Though he had earned forty-nine pounds and seven shillings for his translation of Paolo Scarpi’s History of the Council of Trent (1619) in 1738,32 he was so discouraged by its failure that he left London, saying he preferred to die upon the road than do more translating. Johnson was a good judge of both the difficulties of translation and the fickleness of the market. Being able to produce prose that was “easy, spritely, and elegant” was in fact a rare skill, while being “so well received by the public” was a pleasure that as a translator had eluded him. In reviews of Sully, Lennox’s impressive skill was consistently praised, and often it was connected to her other literary productions. Johnson was generous in his praise of her skills: This translation has been already so well received by the public that we can add little to its reputation by the addition of our suffrage in its favour … [C]opies are about to be multiplied by a cheaper edition … [and] [t]he style of the translation is easy, spritely, and elegant, equally remote from the turgid and the mean.33

Lennox’s fluid style was appreciated by others as well. The Monthly Review wrote, “The present translation is judiciously executed … the language is easy, and

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proper for the subject and such as may well become the fair hand to which the public is obliged for the Female Quixote and Shakespeare Illustrated.”34 Even her literary rivals, the Bluestockings, the set of intellectual, upper-class women often associated with Elizabeth Montagu who were generally hesitant to appreciate Lennox and her contributions to literature, were enthusiastic about how Sully presented international relationships in such an engaging way. Indeed, this was even higher praise because Montagu’s reading circle was far more interested in the genre of history than in fiction.35 Catherine Talbot wrote to Elizabeth Carter, “I am still bewitched by the Mémoires de Sully. I wish you may meet with it, for it is extremely worth reading. I know none that shews one the world in a more entertaining and instructive way, and numberless are the reflections that every page suggests to me.”36 Thus, at least for this reader, Lennox was satisfying a craving for works that would help her and her friends think in more complex ways about the world outside their own constrained spheres. The Head or the Heart We do not know what Lennox earned for this “tedious difficult” translation: it required round-the-clock work that made her ill. However, at about the same time, Sarah Scott thought she might earn forty pounds per year as a translator, which would be enough for a basic subsistence for her and her husband. If Lennox could have earned this much, she would have considered the work worthwhile. It is also not entirely clear if she was able to choose all of her projects or (given her financial need) whether some of them chose her. Johnson alluded to the fact that the latter was more likely the case.37 In the case of Sully, being its translator was a boon not only to her celebrity but also to her status as a learned author. In the case of her next translation project, which followed closely on the heels of Sully, it was a curse. The reviews of The Memoirs of the Countess of Berci were more critical than laudatory.38 The problem with this publication was not Lennox’s skill, as she was again praised for her superior translation ability, but rather that the book itself was not interesting. Berci was originally Vital d’Audiguier’s romance, Histoire trage-comique de nostre temps, sous le noms de Lysandre et de Caliste (1616).39 However, Lennox’s attention was drawn to an adaptation done by Ignace-Vincent Guillot de la Chassagne, whose 1735 modernized version was so successful that it was printed eight times by 1750. If she chose it, Lennox showed business sense and knowledge of the French market. The popularity of this romantic story hinged on the unconsummated relationship of a loyal, married noblewoman and her husband’s best friend. To translate this well-liked story, Lennox “use[d] a distinctive, dignified style that [was] considerably less effusive and sensual” than Audiguier’s baroque

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original. In the modern version, the characters “are somehow more evocative of Madame de La Fayette’s Princesse de Clèves and Duc de Nemours, rather than of Guinevere and Lancelot”; and the conclusion is “gratifyingly happy,” with a “morally unobjectionable ending to their love affair.”40 In this story, Lennox put aside a more formal, “reasonable,” bloodless writing (the kind that offended Baretti) and returned to the genre of romance. This seemed a good bet, because in 1755 announcements for translations of romantic tales were very much in vogue in the newspapers and magazines.41 While Lennox’s Berci was certainly commendable for its style, it is perhaps more remarkable for another element that Lennox added, and which exists in all editions of Berci. Again revealing her independent mind, interested in promoting women’s real life stories and using clever strategies to disseminate them, The History of the Count de Comminge is the second, and far more feminist, French novel translated by Lennox. This 1735 novella appears just after the primary novel’s conclusion, in the second half of the second volume, and is not apparent on a first look: it has no title page of its own and is set in with continual pagination, as if it were a part of Berci. In fact, Comminge has no bibliographic connection to Berci, is not listed on the title page, and is hidden in the sense that the running title seems to indicate that Berci continues. The plot of Comminge involves a couple who are prevented from marrying because of the hatred of one parent, which leads to ever more extravagant displays of sacrifice and devotion. Ultimately the novel bears a message about the need to find a middle way between the head and the heart. This quietly added parable was published by Claudine Alexandrine Guérin de Tencin, who was one of the most distinguished salonists of her era in France, had been a nun, and was also known as a scandalous woman because of her secret son, her involvement in political intrigues, and the suicide in her house of a counsellor to the king of France, who had been her lover.42 As a female intellectual, Tencin longed for freedom, and her Comminge has been called “a feminist critique of masculine privilege.”43 Though Tencin was the author of Comminge and two other novels, it wasn’t until after her death in 1749, and thus not long before Lennox translated this short novel into English in 1756, that Tencin’s authorship was discovered.44 The plot, which is “a protest against familial order,”45 centres on young lovers, Adelaide and Comminge, whose father is ruled by his hatred for his brother. Unfortunately, Adelaide is the daughter of that brother, and thus the two are prohibited from being together. Adelaide “regulate[s] her inclinations to her duty” and marries the most horrible suitor, resulting in a marriage likened to the imprisonment the rebellious Comminge experiences when his father locks him away. The young lovers are expected to accept parental authority to the detriment of their own happiness. The novel ultimately celebrates challenging “the paradigms of social respectability,” that is, staying in a loveless marriage. The narrative

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forces readers to face the opposition of “enlightened sense and romantic sensibility,” the very ideals Lennox herself put in tension.46 This simultaneously rational and romantic tale was a widespread success in France and was adapted into a French play in 1764.47 Lennox was sensitive to her English audience, translating the title of this “oblique fiction of dissent”48 from “Memoir” to “History,” since memoirs suggested impropriety. “History” invoked the language of the English novel, which endeavoured to improve its readers’ morals. As evidence of Lennox’s partiality to this tale, she reprinted her English translation in her Lady’s Museum in 1760. Proof of readers interest in the tale is evidenced by the reprints; in London in 1764, in Dublin in 1781,49 and again in London as a selection for the New Novelist’s Magazine in 1786.50 The Irish publisher James Hoey, who gave Lennox credit as the author rather than Tencin, also published the novel in 1764, but for unknown reasons he changed the names of the protagonists Comminge and Adelaide and accordingly titled the book The History of the Marquis of Lussan and Isabella.51 Lennox’s full book, which included Berci and Comminge, was announced in April 1756, but did not meet with the overwhelming success that Sully had experienced. The common criticism was that Berci was not worth reviving. One reviewer was quite complimentary of Lennox as a novel writer herself, calling her “much better than most of her contemporaries”; however, he considered the language of Berci to be simply “passable.”52 In choosing Berci and burying Comminge, Lennox had made a critical error in judgment. All the reviewers seem only to assess Berci, while they overlooked Comminge. Another reviewer, who thought that Lennox had done an excellent job of translating, was disappointed that Lennox, who was very well read, would chose such an old text from such an unfashionable genre: Since the ingenious lady who has favoured the world with this translation, was about to plunder from the French, we could wish she had taken from them something of more importance. A woman of her reading surely could not be ignorant that this was an old romance newly vamped up; and the names of the personages changed from Alcidion, Calista, and others, which became it well enough, into Count de Berci, etc … It would however be doing injustice to the translator, if we did not observe that she has performed her part extremely well: the language is in general lively and spirited; and we are only sorry that it is expended upon a work, so antient and romantic.53

Although this romantic story had been popular in the past, it was now thought old fashioned. Lennox’s exceptional skills as a translator were clear, but Berci was thought to be stuck in an earlier age of chivalric romance, a tale that was not current and “important.” Smollett’s Gil Blas was deemed to have a worthy subject; Lennox’s Countess of Berci was not. It is hard to assess what qualities about Gil Blas

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might have been favoured over Berci; however, the difference in reception does raise questions about what a male author might be allowed to do with romance that in a woman author’s hands might seem less important. Until now, Lennox had successfully managed to offer texts that had immediate appeal, including her most direct critique of romances in The Female Quixote, but this time she had to acknowledge criticism. Here was the largest proportion of negative reviews she faced, and they undoubtedly stung. Fortunately, Lennox was distracted from her frustrations because she was juggling several other projects: another translation, Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon and of the Last Age; her pastoral play Philander; and her novel Henrietta. In fact, these three titles, all with notable romance elements, appeared within an eleven-month period after Berci and Comminge.54 Given this tight publishing timeline, it is likely that Lennox had been working on these titles while she was labouring over her previous publications. Still, such a number of works over a short period of time meant that she was constantly struggling to meet the demands of the booksellers, her readers, and her own expectations of herself to engage in work that both animated her and would sell. Socializing during these years was out of the question. Not only would she not have had the time, but she would also have lacked the money and clothing to call on friends in high society, thus exacerbating her isolation from the Bluestocking group. From her translations, novels, and dedications, a pattern of representing those who abuse their power as especially heinous emerges. By June of 1756, just two months after Berci was announced, Lennox had begun another translation project, Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon and of the Last Age, by Laurent Angliviel de La Beaumelle. The dedication describes this narrative as “a striking example of the power of fortune” and specifically notes Maintenon’s “exalted understanding, superiority of genius, universal benevolence, and unfeigned piety,” but also her incredible good luck, “the happy influence of her stars.” The intellectual Françoise d’Aubigné, Marquise de Maintenon became a governess in the court of Louis XIV late in life. Her reputation suffered because the king became close to her, and she was accused of being his mistress. On the other hand, she was also thought to have improved the moral tone of the court and eventually properly married the king. In later years, she founded a school for girls and wrote thoughtfully on education. In England, Maintenon was considered one of the most admired French heroines. Susan Staves notes that the narrative was “a feminist exercise in recovering a heroine whose name and fame had suffered, not oblivion, but infamy.”55 Maintenon’s memory “was the subject of a historiographical controversy in France in the early 1750s.”56 Again, Lennox’s choice of text was particularly timely, as this was a text with a controversial author and a growing reputation. The author, La Beaumelle, was a brilliant student who

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published polemical writings and was thrown in jail, partly as a result of V ­ oltaire’s animosity towards him. When he was released, he was forced to go to Holland, where in 1755 he published “Memoires pour servir à l’Histoire de Mme de Maintenon et à celle du siécle passé,”57 which was met with great success among French readers. In London, The Letters of Madame de Maintenon had appeared in 1753. Lennox’s Memoirs had a ready audience. Lennox clearly had her finger on the pulse of literary trends. Purposefully or not, she took the advice of the Critical Review and translated something of “importance” from the French, something that would engage with pan-European intellectual controversy. Maintenon was a respected text among the powerful. Horace Walpole wrote to the Earl of Strafford, “If you have not got the new Letters and Memoirs of Madame Maintenon, I beg I may recommend them for your summer reading. As far as I have got, which is but into the fifth volume of the Letters, I think you will find them very curious, and some very entertaining.”58 Lennox would make Maintenon’s thought-provoking and amusing Memoirs available to a much wider readership. Her five-volume, sixteen-hundred-page translation of Maintenon eventually earned her a significant income, just over eighty-six pounds.59 This was the amount of money that the average clergyman would make in two years60 and the most Lennox is recorded ever to have received from her writing. Not only was she translating something she hoped reviewers would appreciate, it was something that her female writing contemporaries, and Bluestockings, deeply respected. Catherine Talbot mentioned reading an earlier edition of Maintenon in a letter to Elizabeth Carter: “Did I ever tell you I was reading Mme. de Maintenon’s Letters … She seems to have been both a great and a good woman.”61 Elizabeth Montagu and Sarah Scott discussed the female intellectual frequently in their letters. Markman Ellis points out that, by reading Maintenon and others, they “enter[ed] into contemporary historiographical debate,” not simply to learn facts about the past but “to understand the evidentiary basis for key enlightenment controversies in the present.”62 At the same time, the question of patronage was still at the forefront of Lennox’s mind. As Berci had had no dedicatee, perhaps she decided that to ensure success she needed to cooperate with the system and dedicate Maintenon. She ultimately did, to the Countess of Northumberland, who was one of the better-known patrons of the period and the daughter of the writer best known as Frances, Lady Hertford. In contrast to Lennox’s longtime advocates the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, the countess and her husband were far more interested in art than in politics. This was only Lennox’s second dedication to a woman; the first had been to Lady Isabella Finch at the beginning of her career. There is some question as to whether Lennox had originally thought to dedicate Maintenon to someone else, since in the bound copy the last sentence and signature are printed on a page that

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has replaced an omitted page,63 possibly bearing the name of another dedicatee. The dedication praised her patroness for sharing with Maintenon the qualities of wisdom, intelligence, kindness, sincere virtue, and “dignity of wealth.” Lennox was practising the same integrity she expected in others. She had already been given the large income for Maintenon, but she was still committed to sending her work off with assurances of its best possible success. The booksellers predicted that Maintenon would triumph before it left the presses. “A book of assignments” accounts for one thousand copies printed by two printers.64 On 10 March 1757, Lennox received a letter that it would be published within two days.65 The reviews that soon followed prove that Lennox had hit on a success. The Literary Review was the most favourable towards Lennox, considering her outstanding capacity to judge and exemplify character and her distinctive facility to epitomize “truth and nature.” However, even more notable, Maintenon was thought to be an improvement on the original. It is with great satisfaction we take this opportunity to inform our readers that in the translation we find few or none of those prittinesses which deform the original. The author of the Female Quixote has a juster knowledge of nature, than to think of elevating and surprizing, where the human heart is to be unfolded, and portraits to be given of men and manners with a regularity of design, and with true and bold touches of the pencil. She has here given the world an incontrovertible proof of a sound taste, which could not be debauched by the French author’s Dolce Piquante, but has preferred the more solid entertainment of truth and nature. We shall conclude with recommending the translation, in preference to the original, to all who have anything of a manly relish in their reading; and as a specimen of Mrs. Lennox’s stile which is equally sustained throughout the work.66

Lennox, the review thus suggested, would please a wide range of readers with her “juster … knowledge of nature,” remarkable skill in “unfold[ing]” “the human heart,” and appeal “to all who have anything of a manly relish in their reading.” This may be an implied compliment to the author too. She doesn’t write in a feminine, fictitious style, but can manipulate the “manly” virtues of solid truth and information. The use of “manly relish” implies that Sully is not just another feminine emotional romp but is stereotypically masculine in its preference for a “more solid entertainment of truth.” In another review, the headstrong critic Oliver Goldsmith felt the need to point to his suspicion of romance.67 Goldsmith, who did not mention that this edition was a translation, was critical of the “amphibious” mixture of history and romance in Maintenon and “the quoted conversations which cannot be authentic,” neither of which is an aspect of the book that Lennox had any control over. He did, however, praise Lennox’s translation for “the virtues

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of skilful writing and liveliness.” It is noteworthy that Lennox’s ability to translate well was again corroborated by a critic who was particularly hard to please. Finally, Goldsmith argued with Voltaire’s claim that Maintenon was simply a romance.68 “We are at a loss to account for Mr. Voltaire’s calling the present performance a Romance; he, of all men, should have been cautious of thus stigmatizing a work which bears so strong a resemblance to The Age of Lewis XIV,”69 which had been previously written by La Beaumelle. In the next title that Lennox published, she took the liberty of diverging from a standard romance, and once again challenged typical gender norms. In the midst of finishing Maintenon, Lennox wrote her first play, perhaps hoping to break into the world of playwriting, where incomes could be more lucrative. Although it seems she was not a good actress at eighteen, now, at twenty-seven, she intrepidly took on the genre of playwriting. She also valiantly returned to the genre of romance by adapting Giovanni Battista Guarini’s pastoral tragicomedy Il Pastor Fido (1590), which established a code of refinement and gallantry that lasted until the late eighteenth century, into Philander, A Dramatic Opera. As in The Female Quixote, Lennox experimented with gender in her adaptation: she reversed the roles of Guarini’s original characters. In the original, the male hunter Silvio, who is impervious to love, is pursued by Dorinda; but in Lennox’s version the young huntress Sylvia actively resists romance, calling love “a tyrant” that only brings “bondage.” As in Berci and Comminge, the theme of the controlling male guardian is evident in the character of Sylvia’s father, who insists she marry Philander, who genuinely loves her and thoughtfully declares that “love has not charms like liberty.” Although her father will kill her, Sylvia refuses to marry, praying, “guard me from thy Sly seducer love.”70 Having accepting that she will “die a votary” to Cynthia, the virgin moon goddess, she believes her death will be holy: “This pure blood shed in thy cause, seals me for ever thine.” But before that can happen, Philander threatens to commit suicide to prevent Sylvia having to “die my victim.”71 The young woman then realizes his sincerity, decides to share his fate, and grabs a nymph’s dart. Fortunately Apollo steps in, and the two are united in genuine love. Above all other characteristics of their union, “friendship” is the central quality celebrated by Philander’s father, a priest to Apollo.72 This ending is an adaptation from Guarini’s original, which also concludes with the lovers marrying, though in order to fulfil the demands of an oracle. In contrast, Lennox’s Sylvia gets what she longs for in life, freedom; and death is not required for her liberation. In fact, companionate marriage is celebrated with the last lines: “May your joys increase” and “know no decay” “like noon-tide sun it glows in youth’s short day, And milder friendship is its setting ray.”

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Lennox associates joy with friendship in marriage, and she highlights her theme with songs interspersed throughout the play. Guarini’s version was known to convey feeling and sentiment through music, rather than through the plot. Lennox’s play incorporated sixteen songs, and she wrote one song that George III’s composer Thomas Arne set to music. Sadly, Philander did not get staged. Though David Garrick had seemed supportive when Lennox started working on Philander in the late 1750s,73 perhaps the caprices of the industry did not help her. Lennox sent Philander to Garrick, who was still managing the Drury Lane Theatre; however, by then he was not encouraging about the production of this play. He wrote that although he believed that Philander “should appear upon our stage,” he was currently having trouble turning a profit and was doubtful of his ability to produce it, as he had two other plays on at the moment. He had experienced losses on “musical performances” and believed that “Nothing can support a Musical Drama upon our Stage but great Spirit with Songs of a Comic Cast.”74 This was an age of the actor rather than the playwright, and Garrick surely knew his business. Actors like Garrick, Charles Macklin, Thomas King, Kitty Clive, Mary Ann Yates, and Frances Abington could draw crowds regardless of the quality of the play. Thus, a playwright’s success hinged on many factors outside of her control. Theatres were regularly packed, and Lennox had been counting on the wide interest of audiences, which Johnson articulated in the preface to Lennox’s Greek Theatre, published two years later: [N]o people in the world were ever so voraciously fond of theatrical entertainments: our appetite is without bounds and our digestion is so very quick, that we can, with equal eagerness and pleasure, swallow down the most ridiculous sing-song farce, or the most absurd pantomime, immediately after we have been fed and feasted with the most exquisite delicacies of Shakespear and Otway.75

Even though audiences were keen for a wide range of types of entertainment, Lennox was still at the mercy of Garrick, who may have harboured his displeasure at her criticism of Shakespeare. Alternatively, he may not have liked her genderreversed adaptation, even though it ended in companionate marriage. Garrick told her that he liked Philander’s “many detach’d beauties which gave me great Pleasure,” but he thought there was “a dramatic Spirit & Interest wanting thro the whole.”76 However, he may have simply found the play flat, and Lennox’s hopes for seeing it staged were certainly not enough to realize her ambition. Lennox was energized by her divergence from her earlier work, and probably by her creative adaptation of Guarini as well. If she could not see her play performed, at least she could make some money from publication. Philander was released by Millar and sold for one shilling.77 In her dedication, dated 20 November 1757,

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Lennox noted that her own ambition and resolve justified this project. Still, that this play focused solely on a love story required something of an apology to her dedicatee, James Caulfield, Fourth Viscount Charlemont, who was only a year older than she, and presumably chosen because he understood the drive to follow one’s passions. Ambition, which often overpowers the judgement in questions of more importance, has made me forget the disproportion between Your Lordship’s name, and a Dramatic Pastoral; and I have laid before You a composition of little dignity in design and perhaps of little elegance in the execution. Yet for whatever we resolve, we labour to find reasons, til in time we forget its impropriety.

As was her style, Lennox pursued what moved her. She had written pastoral poetry, some of which appeared in Poems, where she invoked the name Philander, the classical literary lover. Now she had found an independent-minded patron to support her dramatic effort to explore the pastoral further.78 Lord Viscount Charlemont was a cultured Irish statesman who disregarded court favours and asserted Irish independence. Again Lennox was negotiating with the powerful players in the literary world. She was not entirely discouraged by Garrick’s rejection, appropriately deferential to her dedicatee, and still in sufficient favour with Millar to publish with him. The reviews of Philander were not as laudatory as those of Maintenon or Sully, but they were sufficiently encouraging. Not having seen the stage was a mark against the play, but critics noted that the “sentiments are proper, soft and delicate: the versification is varied, spirited and correct; and the songs are well-turned, poetical and harmonious.”79 Another called Philander “altogether worthy the Authour of the Female Quixote … poetical, romantic, and pretty enough, upon the whole.”80 Just one year later, and proof that the play text was critically valued, a second edition was published in Dublin. The publication of Lennox’s third novel Henrietta (1758) followed quickly on the heels of Philander. This bildungsroman also illustrates the struggle between the head and the heart. But this time Lennox returns to the genre of the novel to show a young woman who leaves the comfort of the domestic sphere. In leaving manipulative familial support behind, she attempts to find a way to support herself financially in London as a lady’s maid. Henrietta grows up quickly and “spends most of the book calmly but firmly telling an interesting assortment of men and women what she will and will not do for money.”81 Refusing to convert to Catholicism in order to inherit a fortune from her aunt Lady Meadows is also a continuous theme, and Lennox even includes a passing reference to how this upright young woman avoids reading romance novels for fear of corruption.

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Henrietta is ultimately aided by her lost brother and, because of the proper financial and familial conditions, allows herself to marry the man she loves, a marquis who is never given a name. She is thus eventually rewarded for her independent mind and steadfastness in the face of impossible odds with a good marriage and a fortune. In Henrietta Lennox turned her satirical focus more directly on female patron figures, perhaps reflecting her own experience as a labourer, albeit a literary one.82 The novel alters protagonists and plots typical of current novels. Instead of the common preoccupation with courtship and love, Lennox’s novel rejects the notion that a young woman’s primary goal is to fall in love and marry. Henrietta is driven first by a commitment to her own religious ideals and then by, far more potently, a determination to direct her own life. She moves from one position of employment to the next, giving the novel the space to demonstrate humorously and dramatically the difficulties a young woman could face if she did in fact venture out on her own, away from guardians. In this novel, Lennox begins to change course. As she had done in earlier novels, she again demonstrates her superb skill in directing satire at her female protagonists; but in Henrietta her biting social commentary is even more strongly aimed at wealthy patronesses who have only their own interests in mind, the “vanity of giving,” as Henrietta describes it. Although she is Henrietta’s aunt, Lady Meadows also acts like a patroness figure, holding her money over Henrietta’s success or ruin. Later on the countess, Lord B –’s mother, acts as a patroness to Henrietta by helping her find employment, which she does out of both kindness and self-interest. The satire of the countess is much slyer and more subtle than the satire of Lady Meadows, illustrating the complicated real-life situations that young women face.83 Throughout this novel, Lennox explicitly illustrates the power of the wealthy over the less fortunate, using her narrator to assert that “the world seldom espouses the part of the oppressed, because they who oppress have that on their side which is sure to exculpate them; they are rich.”84 Illustrations of self-interested patrons, and Lennox’s range of satirical targets, continue in the rest of Lennox’s novels. One can only wonder if Lennox had her own patrons in mind while she was constructing these novels. Securing a Place as an Intellectual Lennox’s income from Philander and Henrietta is not clear. However, considering the fact that she had earned a substantial amount with Maintenon and was now intermittently ill and complaining of exhaustion, a break would not have come as a surprise. Instead, Lennox was immediately at work on another entirely new venture – or had started it previously. Drawing on her varied experience with the

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theatre – as an actress, a critic, and a playwright – this venture would increase her standing as a learned author and offer the potential for greater income. Shakespear Illustrated had given Lennox some recognition as a literary critic, and Sully demonstrated her ability to write as a historian. Thus, by 1759 Lennox was understood, at least by some, to be a serious scholar. In this year she corresponded with William Robertson, the prominent member of the Scottish Enlightenment who had recently published his History of Scotland to great acclaim. Their letters between Edinburgh and London illustrate an intellectual exchange of mutual respect. Robertson, who wrote to her in the familiar tone of a colleague, showed great interest in Lennox’s lines of inquiry, detailed his own methods, and suggested ways Lennox could track down sources. However, he ultimately deferred to Lennox: “These things I make no doubt have already occurred to yourself in a better manner than I can point them out. I mention them only to shew my willingness to lay your injunctions upon me.”85 This deference would have thrilled her, as Lennox had recently admitted that she was “not without some little ambition.” She had sent her Female Quixote and Shakespear Illustrated to Germany, hoping that the translator Louise Gottsched would adapt these titles for a German audience. This bold act indicated her optimism for a more continental reputation.86 She longed to return to more interesting projects with wide intellectual appeal. Lennox’s translation of The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, a collection of twenty-five plays with extensive commentary, was exactly such a challenging project – and was ideally timed. The year 1759 marked the turning point in the Seven Years’ War, “a watershed moment in Britain’s international competition with France.” In fact, Shaun Regan argues that it made England into “the global superpower of the eighteenth century.”87 Since this rise in status correlated with a rejection of all things French, offering her nation an assemblage of Greek drama in their mother tongue, which had previously only been available in French, could not have been more perfectly timed. Lennox not only returned to composing scholarly writing but was participating in the project to create a more sophisticated national literary culture – one that could think intelligently not only about their own national literary hero but also about the tradition that inspired excellent literature. Lennox had worked with Greek literature over her entire career. In her earlier works she had shown knowledge of Greek and Roman philosophers Plato and Cicero, and poets Sappho and Homer.88 Now she turned to a text that would not only consolidate her fame but would be considered an important learned contribution to English literature. This translation fills a gap in English literary culture by providing access to Greek drama in her own language. Given the fact that few women were educated in Greek, Lennox’s anthology also signals her support for female readers interested in intellectual content.

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Father Pierre Brumoy’s Le Theâtre des Grecs (1730)89 featured plays by Sophocles, Euripides, Aeschylus, and Aristophanes – some as entire plays and others as plot summaries. Brumoy’s text also included essays on Greek theatre, tragedy and comedy specifically, as well as a comparison of ancient and modern theatre, making it the first comprehensive study of Greek drama in any language.90 In contrast, no collection of Greek drama had been translated into English by the mid-eighteenth century. Though individual plays had appeared in English, no comprehensive anthology had existed previously. Greek Theatre, which sold for the high price of a guinea, was the first scholarly collection of Greek drama for an English audience. One reader called Lennox’s translation of Brumoy’s text “a complete view of the Greek theatre” for England.91 In addition to providing a comprehensive study of Greek drama for an English audience, Lennox was responsible for bringing some individual plays to English-only readers: Alcestis and Hippolytus by Euripides had never before appeared in English. Also, for those who were reading Greek drama for the first time, she provided summaries of many plays, like Aristophanes’ Women in Parliament (which she translates as “The Female Orators, or the Assembly of Women”) and Euripides’ Helen.92 Lennox must have worked tirelessly on this massive three-volume tome, which was often bound in high-quality leather and embossed with gilded lettering.93 Of 1509 pages, she translated a little over 80 per cent from Brumoy’s French. One English reviewer explained that “in France that noble language [Greek] is but little known … but with us it is inseparably connected with a polite education.”94 In England, only those with elite backgrounds were taught Greek; therefore the majority who attended the theatre would not have had a basic understanding of the origins of comedy and tragedy. Lennox had developed an appreciation for Greek drama as an adult and used it as a resource in her writing. The year before, she had quoted from Aeschylus in her novel Henrietta.95 Greek Theatre offered those without classical language training or knowledge of French access to respected Greek plays, learned criticism, and a more scholarly literary experience. Elizabeth Montagu used Lennox’s volumes in preparation for writing her own criticism of Shakespeare, Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakespear, Compared with the Greek and French Dramatic Poets, in 1769. While Greek Theatre was important in its own right, it is also significant in demonstrating how Lennox negotiated the literary marketplace in at least two senses: by soliciting assistance from friends within her literary network and by functioning as a project manager. She had a large network of male literary colleagues who respected her work and encouraged her publication. For instance, William Robertson supplied her with a great deal of material for her (never published) Age of Queen Elizabeth.96 Thomas Birch sent her books and publicly praised her writing.97 Walter Harte helped her in her writing and planned to send

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her books and visit her;98 and David Garrick gave her suggestions for improving her play Philander.99 This wide range of literary contacts made it easier for her to enlist other learned and distinguished men to help in the translation of a few of the texts in Greek Theatre. These luminaries included John Boyle, Earl of Cork and Orrery; Dr Gregory Sharpe,100 chaplain to George III and a celebrated linguist and theologian; Dr James Grainger, authority on the Latin poet Tibullus and later known as a medical and sociological authority on the management and health of the West Indies; John Bourryau, a pupil of Grainger’s who accompanied him to the West Indies; and Samuel Johnson, who just four years earlier had finally published his monumental Dictionary. In volumes 1 and 3 of Greek Theatre, in which she included their translations, Lennox added an “Advertisement,” an extra page with decorative marks, in which she gave each of these five men credit for his contribution. Still, the majority of the translation was done by Lennox herself.101 In addition to her monumental translating work, for all three volumes Lennox coordinated contributions, edited initial copy, and checked proofs. From extant letters we see that Lennox was quite comfortable in her role as project manager, but she may also have worried about overreaching. In the letter to Orrery in which she admitted that “she [was] not without some little ambition,” she tempered this bold claim by reminding him that she was not writing “out of vanity.”102 Lennox understood the difference between ambition and arrogance, but she was also aware that some of her contemporaries did not immediately distinguish these two qualities in a woman. Yet, none of these men expressed concern about Lennox’s vanity, and in fact they only demonstrated eagerness to help. Walter Harte, who noted that this project was perfect for this “historical age,” wrote, “I shall always be sincerely glad to further, so far as lies in my little Sphere, any work that you undertake.”103 And Orrery, who familiarly signed his letter “Cork,” noted that he “can now work for you and I will” and hoped that his work would be “in a manner that you will like,” as he worried that he might “offend your too great delicacy.”104 The Monthly Review gushed, “As to that part of the version performed by Mrs. Lenox, we need only observe, that a Lady who has power to engage such noble and able Coadjutors, cannot be supposed deficient in merit herself.”105 Lennox was able to enlist such collaborators because she had gained the deep respect of many of the most admired intellectuals of her day, and she remained friends with many of these men throughout the rest of her life. Clearly, Lennox knew how to manage a major literary operation, including the large personalities that contributed to it. Lennox’s skills as a savvy networker and marketer were undoubtedly important to the success of Greek Theatre, but her talent as a translator deserves further comment. Lennox did not change the original text as much as she had done with Sully.106 She took care with Brumoy’s text, directly translating it and only making

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slight adjustments to improve readability and clarify meaning. It was often claimed that French required far more words than English to express an idea. Thus, on occasion, Lennox omitted sentences that were not necessary to keep the action moving. She followed the English tradition of cleaning up language that might seem improper. For example, instead of translating Brumoy’s “un adultère,” her English readers would see “him whose bed had been dishonoured.”107 She also kept in mind those readers who did not have a classical education and thus significant prior exposure to Greek drama by adding an occasional word or rephrasing to clarify roles and relationships. Rather than “said he” (dit-il), she elucidated with “said the God.” Brumoy referred to the oracle (“l’oracle” is masculine) rather than the God. Lennox used “God” in this case, because “said it” (referring to oracle) would be clumsy in English.108 While staying faithful to Brumoy, Lennox showed her skill as a translator and as a writer. She understood the nuances of English and French and was effective in communicating these intricacies. Where Brumoy translated into elaborate phrasing, like “Would it not rather be the unfortunate Electra” (Ne seroit-ce point l’infortunée Electre), Lennox chose, “Perhaps it is the unfortunate, Electra.”109 Where Brumoy translated “Believe me, nothing should stop us” (croïés-moy, rien ne doit nous arrêter),110 Lennox is more formal and rhetorical with a sense of directness: “No, Prince, let nothing stop us now.” Brumoy’s “Prêtons l’oreille” is not translated directly as “lend me your ear,” but rather with the imperative “Hark!”111 Lennox’s agility with the shades of French meaning and her sensitivity to the performance of her native tongue made her pay close attention to register and forced her to think carefully about her reader’s understanding of the dramas. On 24 January 1760, perhaps not even a year after it was begun – or at least less than a year after publication of Philander – all three volumes of Greek Theatre were being advertised in the Gentleman’s Magazine and in the Critical Review for two pounds, two shillings.112 The Critical reviewer noted that Lennox “can receive no addition to her fame from the praises of a journalist,” as “her other works are particularly esteemed,” and wrote that with Greek Theatre she had shown “the same intimate acquaintance with nature and her own language.” As for her translating expertise, he called Greek Theatre a “work valuable in the original, but rendered more valuable by the translation,” explaining that this edition smoothed out several of the problems of the source text. The work as it stands in English is, with respect to stile, almost faultless; the language is strong, clear, and melodious: those embarrassed periods complained of above are not seen; and though in the preliminary discourses the metaphors and forced allusions are necessarily preserved, they assume an air of gentility, if we may so express it, in the translation, which looked somehow like pedantry in the original.

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After praising each author’s skills as a translator, the reviewer then praised the writing skills of each, suggesting that translating is often thought a waste of a good author’s talent. He noted that they should be producing their own original works. Yet in this case their combined efforts produced a better book than any one of them could have produced on his/her own. We are sorry to see such abilities laid out in translating which might have been so much more adequately employed in producing something excellent; for, what is the greatest applause that can be given to the ingenious persons we refer to, but that of having excellently translated a book, … better than … any one of them could probably have written.

This reviewer is interested in drawing attention to the fact that Lennox’s Brumoy was particularly democratic in nature. “It is certainly pleasing to see the learned thus uniting for the instruction of the public, to see men, who are already possessed of the highest literary eminence, untinctured by envy, associated in order to raise each other’s reputation.”113 Lennox had succeeded not only in producing a highly respected text but also in impressing the literary world with her abilities to bring out the best in men of such scholarly prominence. In 1761, Susannah Centlivre’s collected works contained an introduction written by an anonymous woman who claimed to draw on the inspiration of Lennox. For her, these intelligently rendered volumes presented an opportunity for reflection on the state of women in her country, and again well-read women were admiring Lennox’s commitment to the cause of female agency. It has been argued that Lennox herself wrote this piece to promote her own work.114 This author uses Lennox’s Greek Theatre as an example, saying not that it was important because learned men were surprisingly able to work together but rather that she was impressed that it offered her sufficient proof that there was hope for intellectual women. [Lennox’s Greek Theatre] convinces me that not only that barbarous custom of denying women to have souls, begins to be rejected as foolish and absurd, but also that bold assertion, that Female Minds are not capable of producing literary works, equal even to those of Pope, now loses ground and probably the next age may be taught by our pens that our geniuses have been hitherto cramped and smothered, but not extinguished, and that the sovereignty which the male part of the creation have, until now, usurped over us, is unreasonably arbitrary.115

For learned women, Lennox’s work had demonstrated that society was starting to shift. If the existence of women’s souls was still in doubt, this production

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showed that believing in the limitations of women’s minds was “unreasonably arbitrary.” In fact, intelligent men “were not ashamed that their labours should be joined to those of Mrs. Lenox,” and thus they considered women’s minds valuable enough to engage with them in the important national literary effort of providing intellectual texts to a wider audience. In portraying her own power to speak to the public, this author begins her address “To the World,” imagining how future generations will describe the injustice of denying women’s intellect as a “barbarous custom” and “smother[ing]” a national resource. As proof of the national importance of Greek Theatre, this enormous project also had the highest royal support: the Prince of Wales – the same royal whose sister’s birthday Lennox had celebrated with an ode nine years earlier, and who was soon to be King George III – had allowed Greek Theatre to be dedicated to him. The dedication drew attention to the fact that these lavish volumes contributed to the status of England in the world: Nations may receive plenty from the cultivation of the soil, but they must owe their politeness to the refinements of the court; and the encouragement which your Royal Highness has given to the endeavours of genius, has already kindled new ardors of emulation, and brightened the prospects of the learned and the studious, who consider the birth of your Royal Highness as the birth of science, and promise to themselves and to prosperity, that from this day shall be reckoned a more illustrious period of letters and of patronage.

The writer carefully pairs the arts and the sciences in this advancement of the nation, noting that the only way England could move forward was when not just the learned, but also the studious, had better prospects. Similarly, the Critical reviewer noted that her dedication was not just “prettily written” but also “the incontestable truth.” He asserted that “justly, and without flattery, for we are above it, [we may] say, that never did a Prince of England give so much encouragement to every literary attempt, or patronize the learned so justly and so frequently as he.” The prince, now twenty-one years old, responded to Greek Theatre’s publication with “a munificient present,” though the specifics of this gift remained unknown. King George still had Greek Theatre in his library when he died. Greek Theatre was published a year before Prince George became King George III, and as the dedicatee he would, of course, immediately have received a copy, likely the copy now housed in the George III collection at the British Library. Lennox’s friend George Lewis Scott was his tutor until February 1758. Scott was often at the Lennoxes’ home in the year that Greek Theatre was being produced and may have played a role in passing this text along to the prince.116 Bound into the front of the third volume of this copy is an extra page scribbled with notes

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that show an engaged reader, compelled by the dramatic power of Greek authors’ reflections about good government. Overall, these annotations, which may in fact be by Prince George himself,117 suggest the need to balance creativity and selfrestraint on an individual level, and they recommend dependence and liberty on a national level. The quickly jotted notes are separated into several groups of phrases that show a particular interest in how individuals are restrained when in a state of dependence, and how they flourish artistically when allowed freedom. The last four groupings speak to one another. The first group begins: “The Genius of dependency naturally Produces a kind of Satir[e] more [unreadable word] or delicate as may be easily observed in most of the inhabitants of Ireland.” This invocation of Ireland as a dependant leads to the next grouping that longs for independence: “Longiness [sic] remarks that a popular government kindles eloquence and that a lawful monarchy stifles it.” The contrast suggests that popular government should foster the arts. The third group refers to the use of satire in the arts: “A Dish of Satire is always a delicious treat to human malignities. But that Dish be differently seasoned, as the manners are more or less polished. By polished manners I mean, that good breeding, that art of reserve & self-restraint which is the consequence of dependence.” These notes suggest that satire has to be adjusted for those in a state of dependency. The last group of phrases is the most difficult to decipher. It begins by invoking a reflection on history – “A certain resemblence runs through all polished Ages” – and continues by positing that “exact and delicate Taste” prevails “wherever there is Genius, Politeness, Liberty, or Plenty.” A nation needs these qualities, and perhaps good literature can supply them. The writer continues by musing on stability and changeabilty that are “deferred upon times and places.” A mixture of constancy and variation results in beauty, “what is called the Taste of an Age.” Lennox’s Greek Theatre had potentially moved a young George, who knew he would soon be king, to struggle through some of the most important themes of the English nation and proudly and patriotically to proclaim at his accession, “Born and educated in this country, I glory in the name of Briton.”118 With Greek Theatre, Lennox had succeeded once again in negotiating the treacherous waters of patronage while maintaining a surprising degree of autonomy. For a long time, Sully and Greek Theatre were Lennox’s most esteemed works. Although these crowning achievements are rarely considered by critics today, in her own time they secured her position among the literati. For instance, the critic Anna Letitia Barbauld, who placed a high value on excellent literature as well as on female propriety, called Lennox a “respectable writer” because of them and named these titles as performing “a useful service to English literature.”119 Both Greek Theatre and Sully were in Samuel Johnson’s library at his death in 1784.120 In fact, they were also the texts Lennox listed to demonstrate her importance to

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the intellectual development of England when she was first granted financial support from the Royal Literary Fund near the end of her life. Despite her struggles, over the course of twelve years, Lennox could claim ten titles to her name,121 and she had managed to break away from expected devices and styles in interesting ways in each of them. With her growing success and experience, riches and rank had become even more distasteful to her. By October of 1760, Lennox was playing representatives of one form of power against one another in complaining to the Duchess of Newcastle about her servitude to publishers like Millar, while simultaneously requesting the duchess’s permission to dedicate the second edition of Henrietta to her.122 She would soon be resting in the country, thanks to the friendship of the duchess.123 Lennox clearly knew how to manoeuvre within a complex system. She had managed to please the literary marketplace, aristocratic society, and powerful individuals, while also proving her skill at producing high-quality texts in short periods of time. Despite the intensity of the work, Lennox had no intention of easing up. Her next project, which was already well in the works, would be even more her own.

Chapter Seven

“The Same Darling End … by Different Means” 1760–1 Ages 31–2

[W]e shall fix ourselves to no peculiar order, but make variety our aim; transport our reader by turns through all the regions of earth, air, and ocean, and to different climates, with expedition beyond the power of a magician’s wand. No bars of time, of place, or distance, or even impossibility itself, shall stop our progress. (Lady’s Museum, “Philosophy for the Ladies,” 1:133)

Lennox’s success, in part, was the result of her remarkable skill at negotiating, reconciling her own desires with those of others. She began her next work, a periodical called the Lady’s Museum, by reflecting on this dynamic. That is, she illustrated how one could mentally engage disagreement towards productive ends, turn offensive circumstances into humour, and thus move forward with grace. In the first scene of the first issue, which appeared on 1 March 1760, a young woman relates a moment in which she is reading a book and is advised by a “polite old gentleman” about how to preserve her virtue. She in turn refers to him sarcastically as a “wit.” He retorts, “Cast your eyes upon paper, madam; there you may look innocently.” Lennox is quoting from Alexander Pope’s “Letters to Several Ladies,” where he repeats the line and continues with: “read only such Letters as I write.”1 In its original sense, it means that a young women’s acquisition of knowledge should be strictly controlled. However, in Lennox’s version, the man is portrayed as patronizingly suggesting that this young woman should keep her eyes down, that she should not be speaking up as she has been doing, and that reading will teach her submission. Although he is encouraging her to improve, this will only be accomplished as she learns to conform. The young woman reports that this man’s insistence on a women’s narrow world is pervasive and also ripe for satirizing. Lennox calls

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Pope’s a “borrowed admonition,” implying an old-fashioned way of inspiring a girl who he assumes is looking for guidance. In supporting her instinct to read, he even thinks himself quite modern. The young woman reflects on this scene and sagaciously, and ironically, concedes that his encouragement might be welcomed by some women. A compliment is no unpleasing way of conveying advice to a young woman, and when that advice may be so construed, as to become perfectly agreeable to her own inclinations, it is certain to be well received, and quickly complied with.

However, she explains that she is not the kind of woman who agrees with his advice. It is indeed very clear to me, that my friend in this borrowed admonition recommended reading to eyes which he probably thought were too intent upon pleasing; but I, with a small deviation from the sense, applied it, to what is I freely own my predominant passion; and therefore resolved to write, still pursuing the same darling end, though by different means.2

This articulate young woman makes clear that her older male “friend” does not really understand her. He must have thought she was like those women who made it their goal to be agreeable and would therefore immediately take his advice. However, she is not as interested in being affable as she is in writing about what she has learned. Learning for her is a means to an end, so she applies “a small deviation” to his suggestion. Rather than simply read, she “freely own[s] my predominant passion; and therefore resolved to write.” In doing so, she is confident that she will attain the previously established “same darling end,” virtue. Her “darling” end, though bearing the same name, is different from his. He sees female virtue as passive, and private reading as a good way for a woman to “be pleasing.” She, on the other hand, wants to be pleasing in another way, one that employs her mind actively, and thus she resolves to write, which will satisfy her. Her method of being pleasing, she acknowledges, has generally been considered more masculine, an aspiration to which “we owe the thunder of eloquence in the senate,” i.e., male political rhetoric. In contrast, “being pleasing” as a woman is immediately associated with the vexed term “coquetry.” She, however, argues with clever rhetoric that what is used to indict women could equally be employed to indict men:

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So frankly to acknowledge the desire of pleasing to be my predominant passion, is in other words, to confess myself, one of the ridiculous species of beings, called a coquet. – This will be said by some, and thought by others, for all do not say what they think on such occasions. Yet to that laudable principle, in women mistaken for coquetry, we owe the thunder of eloquence in the senate, as well as the glitter of dress in the drawing room. An animated speech, and a well-chosen silk, are equally the effects of a desire to please, both in the patriot and the beauty: and if the one is ever observed to be silent, and the other without ornaments, it is because he is persuaded, that silence is most expressive; and she, that negligence is most becoming. But for this active principle, the statesman would be no politician, and the general no warrior. The desire of fame, or the desire of pleasing, which in my opinion, are synonymous terms, produce application in one and courage in the other. It is the poet’s inspiration, the patriot’s zeal, the courtier’s loyalty, and the orator’s eloquence. All are coquets if that be coquetry and those grave personages and the fine lady are alike liable to be charged with it. But it will be objected, that the distinguishing characteristic of a coquet is to use her powers of pleasing to the ungenerous purpose of giving pain; the same may be said of each of the others. All human excellence, as well as human happiness, is comparative. We are admired but in proportion as we excel others, and whoever excels is sure to give pain, to his inferiors in merit, either from envy or emulation; passions which produce sensations nearly alike, although their consequences are very different.

Thus, the young woman argues that both sexes pursue “human excellence,” only through different discourses. She wants to use her “predominate passion” not to injure or make others jealous, but to excel intellectually and to do so publicly. For her, “virtue” is not simply complying with expected behaviour, but rather expanding her mind; that in turn results in a better citizen, a “patriot.” Thus her sarcastic use of “darling” mocks “the polite old gentleman’s” idea of virtue reserved for men. She sees his “end” as childish, quaint, and unserious, whereas her own end, achieved through the means of learning, is to be a woman of “virtù,” a citizen engaged in serious questions of philosophy, literature, and science for the good of herself and her society. This extract comes from the Lady’s Museum and is spoken by the fictional persona (an eidolon) of the magazine, the Trifler. The ideas presented here signal Lennox’s thrill at finally becoming her own patron and the centrality of “different means” to the Lady’s Museum. The passage suggests Lennox’s sophisticated understanding of a young woman’s situation, as well as her advocacy for a different end: the subtle yet subversive objective of the Lady’s Museum, namely to encourage

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readers not simply to consume knowledge but rather to engage with it. First, women must be perceived as virtuous and innocent. The Lady’s Museum explores how the concept of virtue might be used as a means of creating a better society, rather than keeping women in their place. The initiating scenario invokes in our imagination a smirking Trifler being approached by a “polite old gentlemen,” who cavalierly suggests how she should employ her own active mind. Instead, the Lady’s Museum offers women an unintimidating education in the newly popular form of the periodical that will serve women’s desire for intellectual stimulation while also providing a national benefit: human intellectual excellence regardless of gender. Now in her early thirties, Lennox was ready for a challenge in a genre that allowed her more control over her material. In struggling to pay her bills, she had been grappling with two insufferable accusations for which women were regularly indicted: mindless frivolity and intellectual pride. Later in the Lady’s Museum, in “Philosophy for the Ladies,” she turns the first accusation around, writing, “Curiosity is one of the most prevalent, and when properly applied, one of the most amiable, passions of the human mind; nor can it in any way find a more rational scope for exertion, than in the recollection of historical facts, and a curious inquisition in the wonders of creation.” She gleefully asserts that humans are every day “surrounded by ten thousand miracles” and have “no other recompense” than to enjoy them with “wonder.”3 Lennox’s curiosity had already often led her into territory that had traditionally been considered male, and this pursuit had resulted in title after successful title. Now she would choose a title to mirror the newly established British Museum, which opened on 15 January 1759 and was only a twenty-minute walk from her her current address. Entry was free and given to “all studious and curious Persons.” If she did venture in, she would have seen Dutch naturalist Maria Sibylla Merian’s brilliant coloured drawings of plants and insects, which may have inspired some of her work for her magazine.4 Lennox would extend her cause of representing women’s lives, and do so more accurately. In fact, with the Lady’s Museum she would take up the project of training women’s minds with a curriculum, in the form of a magazine, that included subjects usually taught to men. This would include not just the arts, but sciences as well. In contrast to prior magazines – those written by men for men, those edited by men but supposedly aimed at women, and even those explicitly written by and for women – the Lady’s Museum was advertised as “a Course of Female Educa­ tion and a Variety of other Particulars for the Information and Amusement of the Ladies” in the London Chronicle, the Whitehall Evening Post, and the Public Ledger.5 The advertisements also said that the magazine was written “By the Author of The Female Quixote” and included a litany of praise for Lennox’s writing skill. Female education had a multiplicity of meanings to mid-eighteenthcentury British readers. The role of education for both genders had been thought

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to be twofold: to prepare students for an active role in society and to “know God aright.”6 Women’s education, although having a number of advocates, was lim­ ited to the upper classes well into the nineteenth century. The earliest plans for teaching “the other sex” were by a Spanish scholar who studied under Erasmus. Juan Luis Vives’ Instructions of a Christian Woman (1523) and Plan of Studies for a Girl (1524) had appeared in numerous English editions by 1600. He advocated that young women learn Greek and Latin so that women could study Christian teachings and develop a virtuous character. Thomas More and Erasmus were also convinced of a need for women’s education, and a small number of Elizabethan aristocratic women benefited from a classical education.7 In the seventeenth century, however, knowledge of Greek and Latin was no longer necessary to read the Bible, and classical education for women subsided, with notable exceptions among those whose writings survive, like Bathsua Makin, Lucy Hutchinson, Mary More, Susanna Wesley, and Catharine Trotter (later Cockburn). The reality that women were the property of their fathers and husbands, and the Protestant Reformation’s close affiliation with St Paul’s teaching that women must submit to men, contributed to a society that “found it difficult to consider them as intellectual equals.”8 Yet, by the end of the seventeenth century, women were receiving some education outside the home, and London was the centre for fashionable girls’ schools. As the eighteenth century progressed, a larger number of girls, including those from the merchant class, had the opportunity to attend schools, as boarding and day schools expanded into the suburbs. By the 1760s, the typical curriculum in boarding schools included writing and arithmetic, which were usually taught by men,9 and reading. Alongside these academic subjects were the polite accomplishments of French, dancing, music, and drawing.10 A girl’s mind needed to be prepared not for public life, but for impressing a potential husband, running a household, and raising children. The family unit was an essential component of the Christian commonwealth, and thus the eighteenthcentury British version of “family values” and virtue were inextricably linked, creating another double bind for women. In the midst of this limited concept of what would nurture a woman’s mind, Lennox’s women’s curriculum advocated women’s intelligence as a means towards her own end, a deeper engagement with the public sphere. She was especially interested in middle-class readers, who had less access to education, and even made a specific reference to her readers who had little chance of “marrying up.”11 The Lady’s Museum began and proceeded just as quickly as all of her earlier titles. Like her novel writing, Shakespeare criticism, and translating, she poured her energies into a literary market that was growing exponentially, and one that had immense potential to reach not only elite literary circles but also new readers,

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those who read for information rather than for plot or poetics. Periodicals, which blurred the boundaries between the public and the private, were grappling with their role as disseminators of learning and thus with the question of how increasing one’s knowledge played a role in social position. The difficulty of appealing to both the university-educated gentleman and the self-taught shopkeeper is evident in the variety of forms with which the genre experimented. Newspapers, which usually came out two to three times a week, initiated this form of public writing in London, in the middle of the seventeenth century. Single-essay literary periodicals and literary reviews were overwhelmingly associated with the sophisticated world of London society. The single-essay literary periodical was a popular form at the beginning of the century and was popularized by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele’s Spectator, which ran from 1711 to 1714. The literary review, initiated by the Monthly Review (launched in 1749) and the Critical Review (launched in 1756), was dedicated solely to advertising new books and evaluating them. Also, by mid-century, the single-essay format began to be replaced by the “magazine.” Edward Cave’s Gentleman’s Magazine (launched in 1731), in “adopting a metaphor drawn from the commercial world,” is the first to use this term, which originally meant a storehouse or repository of goods or merchandise.12 In fact, magazines were often repositories of information, including travel accounts, oriental tales, allegories, sentimental fragments, biblical commentary, and practical articles on such topics as gardening, furniture making, and cures for common ailments, alongside political essays.13 By 1760 a fairly well defined formula that promoted a kind of polite sociability, especially for tradesmen who had not been bred in this milieu, had been established, and the genre was in increasing demand. To be competitive, Lennox needed to present her material carefully. Arguments for women’s education could inspire fierce debate, and her female predecessors who advocated for it had been maligned and their opinions discredited. The Lady’s Museum reveals Lennox’s uniqueness in the marketplace, offering a magazine that called itself a course in women’s education, an education that was available to a large swathe of society, as magazines were “often associated with a naïve and illinformed rural audience.”14 This project of popular civics promoted her belief in the intrinsic, rather than simply social, benefits of learning, and her progressive ideas about women’s active importance in society, even secular society, by offering a challenge to the accepted definition of “virtue.” Lennox presented her opinions carefully, with practical wisdom, so as not to be defamed and thus reach the largest audience. The Lady’s Museum appeared just as the popularity of periodicals in England was exploding. At least fourteen other new titles began between the end of 1759 and the beginning of the 1760s, the greatest period yet in English history for production of new periodicals.15 Because of the low price of one shilling for individual

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issues, and because of their easy availability in coffeehouses, this genre was also accessible to people with aspirations but who lacked formal education, and most of these periodicals assumed that the ability to think, reason, and understand was primarily useful for social positioning. Those that were explicitly marketed to women, a remarkable though much smaller number, appealed to their socialization and imagined a specific female intellect that was more interested in domestic and relational matters. On the one hand, Lennox took up the same goals that earlier periodical editors had stressed, namely to prod readers, as Manushag Powell explains, into “behaving as [members of] an ideal English society, usually by adopting the mores of the middle class.” In addition to this role of training up society, essayists also had to “offer themselves, or rather they offered up a version of the author to be taken and mistaken for themselves.” This act of “self-commodification” means that we get a fuller picture of Lennox herself within the pages of the Lady’s Museum than in her previous publications. Also, like other editors, Lennox presented an eidolon that would ensure continual survival of her periodical.16 However, in contrast to her predecessors, Lennox’s female eidolon, the Trifler, articulated a possible middle way for women and deftly chose a range of material that lent women arguments and models for achieving both respect and pleasure, while engaging in a more rigorous life of the mind.17 In her works as well as in her daily life, Lennox had struggled against the idea that the female mind was too delicate for intellectual activity, a common belief, as articulated by this highly esteemed physician: While it is true that the mind is common to all human beings, the active employment thereof is not conducive to all. For women, in fact, this activity can be quite harmful. Because of their natural weakness, greater brain activity in women would exhaust all the other organs and thus disrupt their proper functioning. Above all, however, it would be the generative organs which would be the most fatigued and endangered through the over exertion of the female brain.18

Though she had done so less directly in her earlier works, with the Lady’s Museum Lennox was overtly challenging this “thought-shrivels-the-ovaries theory.”19 In many ways Lennox was similar to other periodical editors in her belief; however, in significant ways she was also pioneering. Lennox’s predecessor Eliza Haywood, who edited the Female Spectator between 1744 and 1746, did not advocate oppressing women’s learning; in fact, her magazine encouraged the female mind. Extending her fundamental belief in women’s learning, Lennox’s magazine was interested in the way women were taught. She described women’s minds as naturally tranquil, and thus predisposed to concentration. In turn, her magazine offered detailed content and a hopeful belief in women’s learning.20 In writing

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and editing this lengthy monthly magazine of eighty-pages, which memorialized women’s achievements, Lennox shrewdly asserted that women’s education should be full of content, not just occasionally inserted, and incite action (writing, speaking, influencing in some way). Rather than being exclusively moralistic by insisting on critical thinking in order to teach cunning for protection, she promoted learning for its own sake, for its ability to improve one’s life by engaging with the world. She pursued these goals through her now well-known extraordinary generic flexibility and remarkable ability to reform from within. Through the burgeoning genre of magazines, Lennox effectively claimed that women’s intellectual engagement would benefit a nation still establishing its identity. However, in her exposition on the freedom of inquiry, Lennox first had to confront deeply held beliefs about female virtue. Much like “family values” today, “virtue” was an excruciatingly loaded word in mid-eighteenth-century England. Though “virtue” was only loosely defined, the “virtuous” were esteemed in society. For that reason, authors found “virtue” useful as an umbrella term for a wide range of ideas, and a short cut to imply “good character.” When applied to women, virtue was often synonymous with “innocence,” and the charged connotations of this oft-invoked word ranged from “politeness” to “sexual chastity.” In order to be perceived as virtuous, women furthermore had to demonstrate humility and self-effacement. Samuel Richardson and Henry Fielding invoked this word when describing women who were praised by society because they appeared to tame their natural self. These outward signs of virtue were essential to demonstrating, or at least to simulating, good breeding; and they were both reinforced and potentially disrupted by women’s active and discerning minds. Unsurprisingly, the need to maintain moral purity worked in tandem with the belief that women were intellectually inferior to men. Women understood that to prove their good character in public they had to appear passive. Thus, women were thought less capable intellectually, and their minds were often described as fragile. As a result, women were usually excluded from discussions of what we would consider “academic subjects” today, both because such discussions would be a waste of time and because concentration might actually damage women physically. The vast majority of women who had the means to be educated were offered a skills-based domestic and polite curriculum that likely focused on music, dancing, needlework, and reading. Women’s learning of a more intellectual nature was usually associated with religion, Bible reading, and educating children. In the first half of the century, a few male and female authors, including Eliza Haywood, challenged these prejudices against women’s learning; but even these critics did not offer women content of substance in philosophy, history, and natural science. Most intellectually ambitious women did not publicize their interest in these subjects for fear of looking pedantic. They also knew that demonstrating

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their critical minds in a public way might not only make them look less graceful but might actually harm their reputations. Even Elizabeth Montagu, the wealthy society woman, patron, and author who frequently hosted the Bluestockings in her home, was not willing in 1762 to publish under her own name. Instead, her works were ascribed to George Lyttelton. Women’s frustrations about their second-class status tended to be masked. For instance, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s letters and poems circulated among friends; and, though she did publish in periodicals and write one of her own, she only published anonymously (e.g., in the Spectator) and pseudonymously (e.g., as “A Turkey Merchant”).21 Hester Thrale also published anonymously and pseudonymously in newspapers before and after her first marriage and published works of scholarship later in her life as Piozzi, the last name of her second husband. Even the most learned woman of the period, Elizabeth Carter, who published a translation of All the Works of Epictetus in 1758, was hesitant to see her name in print.22 Women were indeed enjoying the pursuit of knowledge, but they could only comment on their reading and on the subject of politics in private. Even more taboo than public demonstrations of knowledge, admitting to deriving pleasure from intellectual pursuits was potentially damning. Lennox’s Lady’s Museum challenged these gendered, and deeply hewn, channels of thinking, not only for the upper classes but also for those of the middling sort. Rather than Elizabeth Montagu’s physical salon where women were encouraged to sharpen their wits, Lennox created a virtual salon in her Lady’s Museum, an informal university in which women could study in their own time and in the comfort of their own homes, without the strictures of polite sociability to inhibit them. To Instruct and Delight In parsing a definition of virtue more useful for her own project, Lennox may have been inspired by the classical virtue “phronesis,” defined as practical wisdom, practical judgment, or rational choice. This is the virtue associated with “the middle way.”23 In the Lady’s Museum, Lennox rejects the choice for women between intellectual ambition and mindless frivolity and suggests instead a middle way that encourages women to think about their learning not as potentially dangerous but rather as a means to a more engaged and happier life. The improvement of their minds thus becomes a shared value that leads to a different understanding of virtue. Lennox’s periodical advocated for this civic-oriented “virtù.”24 In eleven monthly issues of the Lady’s Museum, Lennox published a total of twenty-six titles. Almost all titles appear in serial form over several issues, and in some cases in all issues. When serialized, they will be referred to as instalments. The magazine features a wide range of genres and topics, including natural science (botany, zoology, astrology), history, pedagogy, biography, ethnography, philosophy,

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literary criticism, poetry, and fiction.25 Titles used once or for several instalments, which often announce their genre and topic, include “Of the Studies Proper for Women,” “Philosophy for the Ladies,” “The Lady’s Geography,” “An Essay on the Original Inhabitants of Great Britain” (which includes accounts of Boudica and Rowena), “An Ode by a Lady,” “The Tryal of the Maid of Orleans” (Joan of Arc), “The History of Bianca Capello,” and “A Dialogue between Socrates and Aristarchus.” Although some had been published previously, like “Of the Studies Proper for Women,” Lennox’s magazine presented a wide range of original pieces, like “Philosophy for the Ladies” and “The Lady’s Geography.” This mixing of recycled material with original was the common practice among her competitors. The instalments are often spread over several issues, demonstrating how Lennox or her bookseller employed a useful strategy for enticing readers to buy the next issue. Only one current event is discussed in any of the eleven issues: the hanging of Laurence Shirley, Fourth Earl Ferrers, was alluded to in the fourth issue, which appeared soon after his execution on 5 May 1760. The texts themselves discuss important people in history, some men, but also many women in public positions, as well as those who lived quiet lives with typically female problems, who found solutions and flourished. In contrast, women who obsess about fashion, physical beauty, and the love of power over goodness are commonly critiqued in the magazine. Rather than concentrate on their appearance for their own pleasure, women are encouraged to nurture their minds. Appearing at the beginning of each issue were Trifler essays, which for the first four months overlapped in time with Samuel Johnson’s Idler essays. Also, letters “To Author of the Lady’s Museum” and “To the Author of the Trifler” were inserted throughout. These letters by and to the Trifler, from real or constructed readers, primarily encouraged women to contemplate their own intellect and agency. However, in contrast to some earlier proto-feminist writings, the rhetoric was not adversarial or even emphatic. Also impressive are the many illustrations, which brightened the visual appeal of the magazine, as well as the names of eminent artists attached to some of them. Responding to the new demand for visual images, the Lady’s Museum was an early periodical to include illustrations, beginning with a beautifully provocative frontispiece to be discussed below. The other images include an intricate and large pull-out map of England, engravings of people of ancient and foreign cultures, and scientific diagrams of insects, some of which were crafted by the illustrator Anthony Walker, who was then at the height of his career.26 A musical score by the chamber composer to George III, James Oswald, was also featured. The eighty pages in the first issue are representative of all eleven.27 The first item after the Trifler essay discussed above, a translation of Pierre-Joseph Boudier de Villemert’s “Of Studies Proper for Women,” sets the tone. Villemert’s argument

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for the value of women’s minds was followed by the first instalment of Lennox’s own novel, The History of Harriot and Sophia, which juxtaposed the lives of two sisters: Harriot, who abhors learning, and Sophia, who has read all the books in her available library by the age of fifteen. As a result, Sophia’s “mind became a beautiful store-house of ideas: hence she derived the habit of constant reflection, which at once enlarged her understanding, and confirmed her in the principles of piety and virtue.”28 The narrative’s conclusion rewards Sophia’s qualities of intellect, self-reliance, and resistance to social constructs with financial security. This novel illustrates the message of the whole of the Lady’s Museum that stretching one’s mind had intrinsic, rather than purely social, incentives. Several short texts made up the middle portion of this first issue: “A Song, in Philander, a Dramatic Pastoral,” from Lennox’s 1757 play; “On Reading a Poem Written by a Lady of Quality,” a poetic tribute to women’s wit and fame; “An Ode,” commending a woman who is chained to her mind rather than to “passions of love”; and “To Death. An Irregular Ode,” a philosophical poem that both welcomes and grieves this ultimate reality. Lennox concluded this first issue with the first part of a biography of Gabrielle d’Estrées, Duchess of Beaufort, another famous mistress like Madame de Maintenon. D’Estrées was known for convincing her lover Henry IV that the best way to end the religious wars was to convert to Catholicism. About a quarter of her biography, which is in fact offered as a pattern for how female influence can benefit society as a whole, is Lennox’s own narrative based on information from her Sully translation. An exquisite portrait of D’Estrées, designed specifically for Lennox, adds to the visual appeal of this first issue. Lennox thus privileged this woman’s story of influence over the larger-than-life Sully, showing an early recognition that the lives of women were just as worthy of being preserved for posterity as the lives of men. Even the lives of women of dubious reputation deserve examination. Producing a monthly magazine was a massive undertaking, like Greek Theatre. John Coote, one of the publishers, notes that he employed “Miss Lenox” and “other Learned and ingenious Persons” to “write and compile” the Lady’s Museum.29 Specifics of Lennox’s authorship or which texts she translated will probably never be fully known. She seems to have written a large portion of the content and also done much of the editing and translating. The twenty- or twenty-one-year-old Hugh Kelly, who had just arrived in London and would go on to write for periodicals, may have been her assistant.30 Lennox received full credit in advertisements for the Lady’s Museum.31 By my calculation, 64 per cent of the magazine is not attributed to an external author. Lennox was wise to also include classical texts and respected writers such as Lodovico Ariosto, Pierre-Joseph Boudier de Villemert, and François Fénelon to raise her magazine’s profile. In addition to these authors’ texts, 36 per cent of the material came from a range of other non-English texts.

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These include stories from the Italian Renaissance (“The Life of Castruccio Castracani” and “The History of Bianca Capello”), fifteenth- and sixteenth-century France (“The Tryal of the Maid of Orleans,” “The History of the Count de Comminge,” and the D’Estrées biography), sixteenth-century India (“The History of Princess Padmani,” a story from Niccolao Manucci’s The General History of the Mogul Empire, London, 1709), and Greek and Roman antiquity (“The Vestal Virgins” and “A Dialogue between Socrates and Aristarchus”). To complement these, Lennox offered in seven instalments “The Lady’s Geography,” which described two important sites of the British empire, Amboyna (an island in present-day Indonesia) and Ceylon (present-day Sri Lanka). Set next to and in conversation with these global and historical texts, Lennox included a range of English texts, such as “The Original Inhabitants of Great Britain,” relayed over six large instalments, literary criticism of Shakespeare and Francis Hutcheson, and a biography of Sir Anthony van Dyck, the Flemish Baroque portraitist of King Charles I, who had a dominant influence on English portrait painting. The Path to the Lady’s Museum Lennox may have been thinking about writing her peridocial as early as 1755. She had somehow become associated with Frances Brooke’s Old Maid and took it upon herself to make the correction, issuing a statement in the newspapers. Dissatisfied with the way in which women were being portrayed in magazines, she wrote: Mrs Lenox having been informed that she has been consider’d, by the Town, as the Writer of the Old Maid, a Weekly Paper, publish’d by Mr. Millar; and being unwilling to gain, or lose Reputation undeservedly, thinks it proper to declare, in this publick Manner, that she neither has, nor will have, any Part in that Paper.32

Lennox had other ideas about what she thought was best for a magazine overtly aimed at female minds. Six months before she published her first issue of the Lady’s Museum, which would run from 1760 to 1761, she gave a preview of the goals she had formulated for her own periodical in a magazine with a similar name, the Lady’s Magazine; or, Polite Companion for the Fair Sex (1759–63). The magazine’s assumed editor, or eidolon, was Mrs Caroline Stanhope.33 In a letter signed “C – L –,” addressed to Mrs Stanhope, we have the most direct evidence of Lennox’s perception of the constrictions placed on women’s minds, which would have influenced the overall philosophy of her subsequent Lady’s Museum.34 The earlier Lady’s Magazine had already invoked the spirit of Lennox in an advertisement for their periodical. Caroline Stanhope, its eidolon, writes,

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When I see the writings of my Sisters Lenox and Carter, shine in a Quixote and an Epictetus; nay, when I observe a Female Genius, though of foreign Growth, indulged by the fostering Hand of British Approbation; can we doubt an equal Share of Favour in behalf of our own Countrywomen, if their Merit seem to bid equally fair for the Indulgence. My Sex has Talents, and the World has Candour.35

Stanhope was inspired by Lennox’s and Carter’s minds and believed her country to be supportive of women’s talents. She even hopefully declared that it was now established that “Women are not inferior to Men in point of Genius.” Perhaps after being associated with the Old Maid and inspired by Stanhope’s beliefs about women’s equality, Lennox realized that a magazine of her own design was in order. With her characteristic enthusiasm, her letter to Mrs Stanhope praises the eidolon’s “scheme and the method you have laid down for conducting” this magazine. “I had scarce patience to wait for your first number,” because she saw this woman’s magazine as the first with the explicit goal to educate women. Kathryn Shevelow explains that Lennox’s letter in the Lady’s Magazine “constitutes an early statement of the role of the periodical press in providing basic instruction for women” and argues that Lennox was “one of the first writers to recognize the utilitarian potential of the periodical press genuinely to instruct as well as entertain.”36 Calling herself an “inquisitive and generous” reader, Lennox pointed out that the attempt to embark on a new magazine was a “hazardous undertaking” and thus “merits … encouragement.” She wrote in with activist zeal, referencing the spirit of her own novel The Female Quixote. She called the editors not “meer women” but “champions for the fair sex; a knight errant” whose cause “seemed to be utterly deserted.” Thus she insisted in this letter, which I will refer to as her protest letter, that it was “the duty incumbent upon every woman … who has leisure, and capacity, to join [the editors] in the important task.” She noted that the goal of the magazine as a genre was to “shew those over-bearing men that they have no advantage of us but what they derive from prejudice, and like tyrants, from having the power in their own hands,” and she considered it a civic duty to be rallying publicly for a magazine that took women’s minds seriously. “I will answer for [women’s] justice. I will answer for their gratitude.” Although she does not specifically mention her own forthcoming magazine, these lines are a clarion call for women’s intellect. Lennox may have been disappointed with Stanhope’s Lady’s Magazine. For all of her excitement about women being exposed to intellectually rigorous content, it offered a more standard fare of lessons of moral conduct. Lennox was interested in educating women because “sorry I am to say that the learned and ingenious of the other sex, have hitherto laboured but too little in the service of us.” And further, “certain I am, that nothing has yet escaped from their pens, so well calculated at once to answer the purpose of instruction and

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entertainment.”37 Specifically, she approved of a pedagogical approach that balanced intellectual content and pleasure, noting that the Lady’s Magazine set out to “improv[e] the knowledge of our sex, not by forcing them over mountains, and wildernesses of science, but by leading them through gardens, and groves; not by giving amusement the austere air of study, but by rendering study an amusement.” She was frustrated by the content that women were expected to learn, noting that “the tree of knowledge has too long borne fruit, equally forbidden, and forbidding to women” and thus argued that it was best to acquaint women with “the most fitting model[s] of writing and of life,” which she later named more specifically as “the belles lettres” and “all arts and sciences.” Thus this protest letter asked for something more than what Stanhope’s Lady’s Magazine was offering. Lennox would have known the difficulties of earlier female intellectuals, but she was inspired by French attitudes towards a woman’s mind, which at that time were more progressive. François Fénelon’s Traité de l’éducation des filles (On the Education of Daughters, 1687) had argued for women’s education. However, he stressed the value of an educated woman to her husband and children and envisages female life as strictly domestic. Still, his principles motivated Madame de Maintenon to start her girls’ school in 1686. As documented in her earlier translation, Lennox was impressed by Maintenon’s action and hoped that in mid-century England the value of women’s intellect was gaining more traction. Launching a magazine would be met with far less resistance than publishing a treatise. Also, given Lennox’s financial constraints, this endeavour was more feasible than starting a school herself. Because education for girls was simply a means to her ultimate objective of facilitating women’s more public engagement in society, providing curriculum for women in an accessible and private format meant that women of all ages, and of a wider range of economic circumstances, could learn in the solitude of their own homes. The periodical format was an ideal mode of educating in a less threatening medium, and thus a more effective way of actually bringing about change. Home education for women was often highly structured; thus it is possible that Lennox’s Lady’s Museum was used in homes as a teaching tool.38 The Lady’s Museum was not alone in advocating for the value of women’s minds. Rather, it was in line with other publications from the same time. For instance, George Ballard’s Memoirs of Several Ladies of Great Britain (1752) was designed to draw attention to the biographies of female worthies both in England and abroad.39 Just three years later, his Poems by Eminent Ladies (1755) also highlighted the literary skills of women. Though groundbreaking for their time, these efforts, in a sense, still kept women in their place, where their moral and poetic skills were not threatening. Biographium Fœmineum: The Female Worthies: or, The Memoirs of the Illustrious Ladies of all Ages and Nations (1766) was more aware of

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the unfair treatment of women’s minds. Although it primarily emphasized traditional female virtues in the preface, the anonymous editor argued for a learned humanist education for women and used historical examples as evidence that the female mind was in no way different from its male counterpart. Should we look into history for parallels and comparisons between the two sexes, we shall find, that nature has been no less indulgent to the female sex than to the male with respect to those noble faculties of mind … and if there are not so many instances of the former as of the latter, various reasons may be assigned for such deficiency.

This editor pinpointed the problem of sexism as a cultural construct and went on to note that a society could only benefit from having more educated women, since they would fight for opportunities for their children, regardless of gender. Yet even this more progressive view shows the limits to the ways Lennox’s society could imagine the productive potential of women’s minds. This pragmatic argument ultimately works within existing gender constructs. It could only imagine how an education for women would benefit sons, not daughters. An educated mother “knows what those acquisitions are, which will make a man shine at the bar, in the pulpit, in the senate, and in the cabinet; and neglects no means to qualify her children” for these opportunities. Even in the midst of critiquing the cultural construct, this belief system was propping up the very structure that promoted gender expectations. Within this cultural milieu, which was suspicious of what might happen to society if women’s minds were too strongly promoted, Lennox wanted to create a curriculum that supported a humanist rhetoric. Though she still had no children of her own, she was the “educated mother” who would “neglect no means” to make a wider range of knowledge accessible to women, at a time when most thought that exposing a woman to the same curriculum as a man was not just pointless, but in fact potentially dangerous. The Lady’s Curiosity (1752) ran a piece with the misleading title “The Female Genius Equal to the Male,” in which the writer claimed, “Learning is so far from improving a lady’s understanding, that it is likely to banish the most useful science out of it, making her know nothing at all of what she is most concern’d to know.”40 This author believed that learning would in fact detract from a young woman’s domestic accomplishment. With the more pervasive notion that a traditional curriculum might in fact hurt a woman’s mind, Lennox had to be careful how she packaged her ideas about female education. Rather than a tirade that would not be simply ignored but maligned, she gave nuance to the debate about women’s minds. In her preliminary Lady’s Magazine letter of protest she argued that pursuing intellectual subjects should not be limited to men; she insisted that knowledge of arts and sciences should “come under

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the head of a female accomplishment.” She called these her “polite lessons.”41 Why shouldn’t this kind of knowledge be considered worthy of women? She tempered her suggestion that women know “all the arts and sciences” (italics mine) and asserted that “to have more is superfluous; to have less is to be deficient.” Women would not be taking over men’s intellectual territory. She simply argued that they should not be excluded from the best of what had been thought and said. For her, women’s knowledge needed to include “criticisms and observations” and subjects such as philosophy, history, and natural science that could help “correct [women’s] judgement” and “prevent their erring, either in conduct or taste.” Lennox was good at picking her battles. The mind mattered far more to her than the body, yet in her protest letter she cleverly chose a comparison with appearance to make her point. What the dancing master could do for the body, she wrote, knowledge could do for the mind: “The most seemingly trifling refinements, often bestow a grace as irresistible as it is unaccountable.” The invocation of “trifling” could point to her future eidolon, the Trifler, a young woman who was both attractive and refined as she proposed how women’s learning did not have to be threatening. This mode of reasoning was more persuasive. If women’s learning did not intimidate men, and might in fact help them, then they might not resist so heartily the promotion of women’s minds. Sociability and the Magazine In her letter of protest, Lennox had suggested a new way of conceptualizing the idea of the intellect. Samuel Johnson in his 1755 dictionary defined “intellect” as “the power of understanding” and “intelligent” as “knowing, instructed, skilful.” Johnson’s definitions imply that humans were not simply born with but also “instructed” towards knowledge and understanding. His writing also points to his belief that inherent ability was not as important to understanding as was training that produced intelligence.42 In her Lady’s Museum, Lennox took the idea of training her readers seriously. She believed that intellect should not be so firmly aligned with birth and social positioning, but that everyone, regardless of prior education or social position, could experience intrinsic benefits from a wide range of learning. She also advocated that society itself could gain from the expanded mental capacities of its members. Her democratic ideas clashed with those of Oliver Goldsmith and other periodicalists of the time. Like many essayists, Goldsmith wrote with “a mixture of pique, personal vanity and public spirit.”43 However, at times Goldsmith’s public spirit was imperilled by his own vanity. He was known to distinguish between those he wished to be writing for and those who actually read magazines: “should the labours of a writer who designs his performances for readers of a more refined appetite fall into the hands of a devourer of compilations,

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what can he expect but contempt and confusion.”44 Goldsmith suggested that only readers of sufficient taste and discernment had the necessary skills to comprehend his writing. In fact, claims of editorial gentility were ubiquitous in the mideighteenth-century periodical.45 Similarly elitist, the editors of the Court Magazine complained of “the insolent claim, every little pretender to genius, shall make to the character of a gentleman.”46 An article in Lloyd’s Evening Post suggested that its readers “lack the detachment and disinterestedness requisite for the appreciation of philosophy.”47 This writer was identifying how his readers were too bound by their own pursuits of power or money to possess the necessary reflection requisite for an inner life. Thus, intelligence in many of these magazines was associated with class status, with the possession of leisure enabled by money, rather than with intellectual capacity. A growing tension over definitions of intelligence was evident in the development of mid-century periodicals. It was characteristic of their editors to place a high value on “authenticity, rather than wit and literary polish.”48 If readers were encouraged to expand their minds, it was with the goal of being more esteemed rather than more scholarly. This attention to readers’ experience and their perception of themselves, and how others perceived them, likely inspired the predominance of phrases like “elegant amusement,” “entertaining companions,” and “taste, fashion, and politeness” in editors’ descriptions of their publications after 1750.49 These descriptors also suggested that most magazines appealed to readers who were interested in improving their minds for the purposes of being perceived as intelligent. These kind of aspirational readers, ones with pretensions to gentility, used the perception of intelligence as a way to advance socially.50 Attention to readers’ image in society, over their genuine education, was also evident in periodicals that overtly appealed to both sexes, like the Monthly Repository of Gentlemen and Ladies. Mid-century magazines aspired to “universality and comprehensiveness” and were “aimed at providing both a microcosm of society and a complete course of reading in themselves.” More specifically, it was not unusual for them to contain “lively debate about women’s education and vociferous expressions of support for it.”51 For example, Benjamin Martin saw periodicals as an effective way to disseminate educational material to both men and women. He explained in the preface to his General Magazine of 1755, “the senses are the general Inlets and means of knowledge, and are formed as accurately and just as perfect, in one sex as the other, therefore these philosophical subjects must be, in this way, equally intelligible to both.”52 Martin believed that both genders had an equivalent ability to learn intellectual subjects, an idea he illustrated in the first issue in an item titled “The Young Gentleman and Lady’s Philosophy,” which included a dialogue between Cleonicus and his sister, Euphrosine. Cleonicus declared that “It is now growing into a Fashion for the Ladies to study

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Philosophy” and embraced this fashion with a sense of pride because he was able to “promote a Thing so very laudable and honourable to her Sex.”53 However, even as some interest in women’s minds was being generated, the majority of the periodicals – especially those directed at women – of the 1750s and 1760s were of a much more personal, less scholarly, nature. Advice on questions of love and marriage was frequently doled out in women’s magazines, and current events were more common in men’s. For both genders, periodicals primarily functioned to encourage polite sociability. Lennox was breaking from this mould to offer a magazine that responded to Martin’s vision and had actual content, a genuine education for her readers, especially the female ones. Women and the Periodical These pioneering efforts were in part born out of Lennox’s financial straits, which did not permit her the luxury of regular encounters with high society. Sociability was for those of high birth and disposable income. Lennox was responding to what her own experiences revealed as a problem, genuine versus social posturing, as it related specifically to women’s minds. “At mid-century 40% to 50% of English women were able to read, and female literacy continued to improve in the succeeding decades.”54 But it could only improve if reading material of real substance was available to women. Periodicals were enjoyed by both genders, and even men read magazines with titles directed exclusively at women.55 Thus the market was ripe for Lennox’s project. Also, before and during this flourishing of the magazine in 1760, men edited nearly all periodicals. By employing female eidolons such as a harlot, a fraud, a devil, or an old maid, editors undermined the authority of the eidolon and thus framed these periodicals as unreliable disseminators of information. Caroline Stanhope’s Lady’s Magazine; or, Polite Companion for the Fair Sex (1759–63) included a more three-dimensional persona. However, in describing itself as “a polite companion,” this title directly indicated how even women’s periodicals, both those edited by women and those directed at female audiences, were subjected to the close association of social position and intellect. As Manushag Powell notes, “When the feminine is invoked in discourses of periodical authorship it is most often a vehicle for complaint; the usual idea is that periodicals are so proliferate, and so vapid, as to mimic women’s speech, gossip masquerading as didacticism.”56 Magazines draw in women readers by their titles. For example, the anonymously edited Royal Female Magazine explained, “Entertainment … alone is my humble design.” In fact, the editor’s objective was to provide “a recreative unbending, to minds intent upon the more abstruse and weighty studies” and upon “the moral and prudential duties of life.”57 Women’s magazines during this period suffered from being facile, simplistic, and patronizing.

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Subjects that commonly appeared on their pages tended to include jealousy in married life; separation; courting; domestic items, such as the immoderate use of tea, snuff boxes, and smelling bottles; religion; and etiquette. Part of the problem was that, although there were a number of magazines directed at a female audience, only five known women actually edited magazines prior to Lennox’s Lady’s Museum. The first two were Delarivier Manley, who edited issues of the Examiner in 1711, and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who wrote Nonsense of Common Sense (1737–8). Both were similar to periodicals edited by men in that both focused on the political issues of the day. The climate of their time was even less interested in a woman’s voice than Lennox’s era two decades later. In fact, Montagu included an essay in Nonsense which deplored the way men flatter women while simultaneously declaring that women are less than rational. Manley and Montagu both used a male persona, and neither title was known by the public to be the work of a woman. By mid-century only three more women had edited magazines, none of which were specifically designed for women: Eliza Haywood edited the Female Spectator (1744–6), the Parrot (1746), and the Young Lady (1756) and Frances Brooke was responsible for the Old Maid (1755–6).58 The Young Misses Magazine and its sequel the Young Ladies Magazine (1760), both likely written by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont, were being published simultaneously with Lennox’s. The Female Spectator included advice columns, fiction, and poetry, material that helped women navigate their domestic worlds. Haywood also suggested a program of reading for women, which included the study of botany, history, astronomy, medicine, literary criticism, zoology, and theology, as well as a new plan for women’s education. She explained why she did not include topics such as “armies marching, battles fought, towns destroyed, rivers crossed and the like” – the staple for men’s newspapers – reasoning, “I should think it ill becomes me to take up my own, or readers’ time, with such account as are every day to be found in the public papers”; in other words, she positioned her writing as distinct from the newspapers of the day. Her stated goal was to “check the enormous growth of luxury, to reform the morals, and improve the manners of an age.” Haywood warned against the temptations of fashion and encouraged instead virtue and wisdom and “educated [her] readers by vicariously bringing them into contact with the dissipated, scandalous world of rakes, masquerades and pleasure gardens.” Although the Female Spectator suggested some ways in which a woman could grow intellectually, it was more specifically concerned with correcting behaviour and relationships. For example, it suggested that the study of philosophy “corrects all the vicious Humours of the Mind, and inspires the noblest Virtues.” Though it advocated for women’s education throughout, it proposed to “furnish” women with the “good sense … to endeavour a forgetfulness of every thing that may

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occasion a Melancholy in herself, or a Dissatisfaction to her Husband.”59 Frances Brooke’s Old Maid, purportedly by Mary Singleton, Spinster, set out no plan in particular, proposing to write on whatever issues struck the author. Singleton explained her method: “in obedience to [Caprice’s] dictates, I shall, just as the whim takes me, animadvert upon fashions, plays, masquerades; or whatever else happens to fall within my observation.”60 A more than usual amount of attention is given to the eidolon’s personal life. It also took advantage of fictionalized short stories to capture its audience. Still, Brooke’s magazine did engage with political affairs and was openly interested in Britain’s international reputation in several different numbers. However, neither of these periodicals focused on learning, and especially female education, and the value of study for intrinsic, rather than social, reasons. In only two very brief issues, the Young Lady’s Magazine, or Dialogues between a Discreet Governess and Several Young Ladies of the First Rank under her Education, which came out in the same year as the Lady’s Museum, included discussions of geometry, philosophy, and history between women and girls with names such as Mrs Affable, Lady Witty, Miss Rural, age fourteen, and Miss Frivolous, age eighteen. This program was infused with “the wholesome maxims of Jesus Christ” and suggested that girls would use their knowledge to entertain their husbands, “gentlemen of great study,” with intelligent conversation.61 The first sentences explained that “the most dangerous stage of life” was between the ages of fourteen and fifteen and assumed that a young woman would “inevitably be ruined” because she was innocent and possessed “puerile prejudices.” Thus, girls needed to gain understanding for their own safety, and humility to be tolerable in society. “Let us stop our ears against the incessant panegyrics that self-love lavishes upon us.”62 The Young Lady’s Magazine attempted to train girls to be useful to society. A Course in Female Education Lennox had larger sights in mind. She lived up to her protest letter’s expectation for a magazine for women that included “the belles lettres” and “all the arts and sciences” by calling her magazine a “museum,” to highlight the intellectual content. The original title for the Lady’s Museum was the Female Magazine; or Lady’s Polite Companion.63 Mirroring the second part of Stanhope’s title, Lennox’s publishers originally conceived of her magazine as a second generation of the earlier one. However, Lennox had loftier goals. She was committed to her most activist project to date, to show a virtuous path for women that included models not only of good behaviour but also of incisive thinking through substantial content designed to give her readers deeper knowledge in intellectual subjects. Choosing the word “museum” for her title accentuated the content, rather than the morality.

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Her new publisher, the extremely popular John Newbery, gave her a welcome advance, expecting the Lady’s Museum to be read by a wide swathe of society. He charged the standard one shilling, the price of a pre-written sermon for a busy (or a lazy) clergyman or admission to Vauxhall pleasure gardens. This was half the price for a scalped ticket to the British Museum, which had opened the year before.64 Today, Newbery is known for creating a permanent and profitable market for juvenile books; however, only one-fifth of the five hundred books he published were in fact for children. Most of his books between 1759 and 1761 were educational material for adult readers. Newbery was the publisher of Johnson’s Rambler and Idler, as well as works by Oliver Goldsmith and Christopher Smart. He was influenced by Locke’s Some Thoughts Concerning Education (1693), which argued that “children may be cozened into a knowledge of letters; be taught to read, without perceiving it to be anything but a sport, and play themselves into that which others are whipped for.”65 In her periodical, Lennox promised to be witty, humorous, and entertaining in her “Course of Female Education” and left out mentioning a religious goal. Advertised most weeks in a number of magazines and newspapers throughout its eleven-month run, the Lady’s Museum would have been well known to average readers, men and women alike. In contrast to her predecessors Eliza Haywood66 and Frances Brooke, the earliest advertisements name Lennox as the author, demonstrating her willingness to be associated immediately with the content she presented. Although her Lady’s Museum was advertised as being “published with the magazines,” she conceived of a new kind of periodical. Not only did she call it a “museum,” but also the absence of dates and continuous pagination would suggest that she and her publisher were already thinking of a collected edition. Unlike the Ladies’ Magazine by the fictitious Jasper Goodwill (1749–53) and the Lady’s Magazine; or, Polite Companion to the Fair Sex (1759–63), Lennox’s “museum,” a collection of artefacts that educate, may have taken a cue from Mark Akenside’s magazine Museum (1746–7), which sought “to become a general Vehicle by which the Literati of the whole Kingdom may converse with each, and communicate their Knowledge to the world.”67 The Lady’s Museum looked different from Goodwill’s and Stanhope’s periodicals, as it was a single-column text with larger font, which began with a message to her readers. The first entry was from the pseudonymous editor the Trifler, who introduced each number. Lennox’s issues were far more visually appealing, with numerous illustrations and a more spacious layout, whereas Goodwill’s and Stanhope’s were two jammed columns of small font. Instead of announcing its date on the front of each issue, a number differentiated one issue of the Lady’s Museum from the next, indicating that it was intended to be long-lasting, a reused and durable part of the reader’s library. It was also bound into two volumes with a title page for each. Although calling itself a magazine, Lennox’s periodical, especially when bound

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together, looked much more like an inviting primer than the typical magazine of the period. The newspaper the Public Ledger noted several important differences between the Lady’s Museum and its competitors. First, this periodical’s author had name recognition. The Public Ledger touted Lennox as a successful author by including laudatory reviews of Henrietta and of her translation of Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, as well as a congratulatory mention of The Female Quixote and Shakespear Illustrated. Perhaps uniquely, however, it emphasized that Lennox presented a wide range of original pieces, unlike many of her competitors, who were borrowing a great deal of material from earlier sources.68 In its attempt to be accessible, entertaining, and not an overtly scathing tract against a male-privileged society, the Lady’s Museum tried to appeal to a potentially large audience of men as well as women. However, its structure, contents, and tone called attention to a different agenda from other periodicals. It did not include the typical current issues or book reviews, and it curiously omitted the frequent and robust influence of religion. Although “Philosophy for the Ladies” notes the contemplation of nature as a reflection of God’s works, and although some of what Lennox includes of Fénelon mentions Christian values and makes references to God, the Lady’s Museum ignores references to female sinfulness, and it also does not proclaim religion as an objective of social reform. In its 868 pages, other common magazine items were also omitted, such as embroidery patterns, enigmas and rebuses, individual advice columns, accounts of domestic and foreign news, as well as lists of births, deaths, and marriages. The Lady’s Museum was not devised to help readers make the right moral choices or to be sensible. Like other editors, Lennox, by replacing prescriptive eidolon essays with letters from readers, actively engaged her audience. This more scholarly structure, content, and tone suggested that the Lady’s Museum, which included Trifler essays, letters, and twenty-six titles, had a different goal for learning. As mentioned earlier, the majority of periodicals at this time portrayed intellect as a means for sociability and as an extension of prior education in Latin and the classics. Thus the assumption was that reading these periodicals could improve one’s social position. Lennox, however, was not as interested in sociability or in helping women become ideal companions for men. In fact, the Lady’s Museum contained minimal content focused on courtship or marriage. Female education here was not simply about learning polite and domestic skills, but rather designed to challenge the reader with new content and debate. While Lennox proposed something akin to a liberal arts education, she also imagined intelligence as primarily internally edifying. As she indicated on the first pages of the magazine, “intellectual pleasures [are] too laudable to be restrained.” Readers who indulge in a life of the mind will experience its intrinsic rewards, rather than the emptiness of superficial pursuits and motivations. As a secondary benefit, as

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the individual improved, both wisdom and knowledge would make a person a better citizen of the world. Lennox offered a vision of intellect that – though still public and aimed at societal improvement – was marked by a curious mind opening up to a wide world, rather than challenging it. In what Iona Italia calls “the periodical’s most daring statement of female intellectual capacity,” Lennox suggested that women might equal and even excel men in the areas of history and natural philosophy because, “[u]ndisturbed by the more intricate affairs of business … which attend on the pursuit of fame or fortune,” women were free “to receive and to retain the regular connection of a train of events, to register them in that order which fancy may point out as most pleasing, and to form deductions from them such as may render their lives more agreeable to themselves, and more serviceable to every one about them.”69 Lennox suggested that women’s intellects had a very wide field in which to range. She added that the reason that women’s intelligence was unique was because of the way society was structured; that is, women did not hold public positions, were not involved in trade, and were thus not subject to the pressures those in power could exert. Her argument is particularly fascinating because it uses the typical argument for the political participation of only independent men and then turns that line of reasoning around. Rather than pursue fame and fortune as men did, women were able to assess events and follow abstract trains of thought from a distanced, disinterested perspective, suggesting perhaps their ability to be more radical … under the radar. Lennox also reminded women that – more important than one’s progeny, one’s domestic skills, or one’s looks – genuine respect from the outside world was the ultimate goal. She was careful to distinguish this from superficial respect, which one was granted simply for appearing virtuous. She suggested a kind of respect that came from those who were not just knowledgeable, but also wise. In Lennox’s model woman, her readers would see someone with extraordinary understanding. She alluded to expansive intelligence in a letter by Anoeta, possibly composed by Lennox herself. Anoeta said of herself and her readers, “unless we should be encumbered by a few brats, can it be said of any of us, when we quit the scene, that we have left any monuments of our existence?”70 Penelope Spindle, another correspondent, tells the editor that her “grand-mother was a country gentlewoman, and has left little behind her except a scented paste.”71 Progeny, domestic skills, and appearance were all fodder for the outside world’s critique. The Lady’s Museum pointed to these constrained aspirations for women and encouraged them to consider how their minds, not their looks or their manners or their sociability, would be remembered by future generations. Far from being confined to domestic concerns, woman’s power – to make connections, to deduce, to judge objectively, to have clarity of mind – was in fact superior to men’s, who were confined to worldly

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pursuits. Women, she believed, were freer to be open – with a fuller range – to a “world of wonders.”72 Lennox asserts her belief in women’s intelligence in numerous ways in the Lady’s Museum. The extraordinary frontispiece set the stage for this magazine. Overtly framing its goals, the illustration was in conversation with Eliza Haywood’s Female Spectator frontispiece, which also featured seated women at a table with books. Lennox’s image presents a young woman sitting with a stack of books and a scroll on a table in front of her. While her hand holds her place in one of these books, she seems to be in mid-thought as she turns her eye upward. She intentionally looks past a scene of Cupid and his arrow set to strike the heart of a maiden, who has her head covered, to focus on Apollo, the god of poetry. In ignoring the figure of romance and setting her eyes on the god of poetry, she is drawing our attention not to love stories, but rather to “the most fitting model[s] of writing and of life” from the past and the present, indicated by the bound books and the scroll side by side. Britannia, the most active figure in the scene, points upward, suggesting that she look even higher, towards the temple of glory and virtue. In this action, the young woman is being encouraged to pursue the classical virtue, phronesis, practical wisdom; that is, to make good use of her study. The ancient Greek scene invokes civic humanism and depicts female readers as having intellectual potential, as individuals who could move the nation forward. They become even more valuable – and virtuous – if they study. In essence, including this frontispiece in a primer for women that combined a wide range of respected texts is an argument that, by raising the intellectual standards for women and discouraging their frivolity, England could, and should, be improved. Lennox’s authorial persona and the inclusion of an influential pedagogical treatise by Fénelon illustrate how the Lady’s Museum specifically promoted “a course in female education,” the phrase used in advertisements.73 The magazine was not interested in social positioning, but was rather committed to a wide range of intellectual topics that had substantive personal and societal benefit. In keeping with her objective of encouraging female participation in society, Lennox employs the fictional persona, the Trifler, demonstrating her awareness of her position as a woman attempting and offering intellectual subjects who can balance pride and deference. Rather than a preface, Lennox began with a disclaimer, which was especially required of women writers, and pointed to her hesitation about embarking on such a bold endeavour as addressing the female mind. She did not want to be placed in the category of other female eidelons, like Mrs Crackenthorpe of the Female Tatler, who was described as “a Lady that knows everything.”74 In the same vein, Mrs Caroline Stanhope of the Lady’s Magazine: or, Polite Companion for the Fair Sex was criticized as affectingly pious.75 In Lennox’s Trifler disclaimer, she strategically downplays her female curriculum and its educational mission, calling

Figure 10 Frontispiece in the Lady’s Museum, 1760. Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University.

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her magazine a “pamphlet” and “a sprightly paper,” and notes that she would provide what she seemed to believe was required: to be “witty,” “humorous,” “moral,” and “entertaining.” However, “as she has too much reason to distrust her power of pleasing,” she will “suffer it into print.” Reason dictated that she must ignore her distrust and was the very quality she would be encouraging in her readers. She also followed her own advice to pursue a goal for one’s own sake and not for worldly rewards. The tone of this introduction perfectly pitched Lennox’s humanist project to promote reason in women while reducing the threat that her ideas would be entirely discounted. After Lennox provided the perhaps requisite disclaimer, she proceeded with the first “Trifler” entry. In Johnson’s Dictionary, published five years earlier, “to trifle” is synonymous with “to play,” which he defined as “to do something fanciful, to practice merriment.” Trifling is also something women are frequently accused of doing with men. Thus, Lennox is co-opting the title given to coquettish women and turning it on its head, to reject the representation of women as focused solely on courtship. The Trifler was reminiscent of Johnson’s earlier persona, the Idler, who, in contrast to being lazy and aimless, wrote in sophisticated ways about salient societal challenges. With her characteristic humour, Lennox used this nickname for her shadow self to invoke irony, thus making her serious subjects more inviting. One can almost see her grinning as she began each essay. Evidence suggests that readers knew that Lennox was the Trifler, and even more interesting, that Lennox wanted her readers to think of her as the Trifler.76 Maria, a potentially fictionalized persona, whose letter to the Trifler appeared in issue 4, pulled back the curtain on the ruse that editors used in taking a pseudonym. It is common for periodical authors to forget their titles; that the Tatler often talks with the most solemn austerity of wisdom; that the Guardian deviates into many topics … I wish for the sake of your reputation as a writer that you would follow their example and sometimes forget your title. If you hope to have your paper read with general approbation, do not dwell so much upon exploded trifles, unworthy the attention of persons of polite education.77

Maria shines a light on the word “trifle,” asking the Trifler to act in opposition to her title, as the Tatler did, and focus on topics worthy of thoughtful people. Immediately following Maria’s letter, a letter from another potentially fictional reader, Perdita, describes “the author of the Trifler” as the moral author of Henrietta (Lennox’s novel published two years earlier), who “gives us so beautiful a picture of female virtue.”78 Rather than address the fictional Trifler, Perdita writes in the following issue “To the Author of the Trifler” and thanks her for publishing her letter.79 Here Lennox models her “darling end,” by including this

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dialogue among women who are asking for content with greater substance. The Lady’s Museum is advocating for women to be socially engaged and in the kinds of nuanced ways that will be effective. Lennox harnesses her own intellectual passions and employs practical wisdom and civic engagement without the taint of a vain pursuit of fame or status. Since Lennox wrote the Trifler essays, and since the “To the Author of the Lady’s Museum” and “To the Author of the Trifler” letters enter into a conversation that progressively adds clues about the magazine’s objective, it is likely that Lennox also wrote some or all of the letters addressed to the Trifler.80 Rather than represent a persona, with each new instalment the “Trifler” letters suggest, almost like a riddle, varied pieces of information about the female mind and challenge the definition of “virtue.” To further confirm the idea that the Trifler essays and letters constitute a sustained conversation, two of the “To the Author” letters are signed with successive letters: A.B. (issue 4) and C.D. (issue 6). One “Trifler” letter is signed E.F. and the following issue has a “Trifler” letter signed E.J.81 Each of these letters offers a study of a famous man, Lord Ferrers, Macduff (from Shakespeare’s Macbeth), “Lord Dorset,” and Castruccio Castracani, to be considered for his virtue.82 Most of the other essays are signed by women and explore issues progressing from how women’s freedom came from the improvement of the mind (Trifler, 2),83 the definition of happiness (To Author, 3),84 how the Trifler should be portraying women (Trifler, but written by Perdita, 3),85 how coquetry is not a joke (To the Author, 4),86 girls’ education (To the Author, 4),87 using reading to think seriously (Trifler 5),88 the value of reading foreign texts (To Author, 5),89 the pain inflicted when a friend steals a husband (Trifler, but written by Perdita, 6),90 the unusefulness of infidelity (To the Author, 8),91 the pleasures of cultivating reason (Trifler, but by Anoeta, 8),92 problems for enlightened women (Trifler, but by Parthenissa, 8),93 and the value of reading Socrates (Trifler, Anonymous woman, 11).94 When considered as a whole, these texts show how personal life and the life of the mind are intimately connected. They challenge readers to be active and engaged and consider complexities, including philosophical debates. A woman sullying her reputation might be bad, but leading a frivolous life, one in which her mind lies dormant, is perhaps even more miserable. Lennox skilfully interweaves these letters and can be credited with a wide range of adroit rhetorical moves. Also, the letters set the stage for the curriculum Lennox places between them. These academic subjects would matter more to readers because they could explore personal experiences of pleasure in valuing the female mind. Having indicated the mission of her periodical with the gaze of the female figure in the frontispiece, established an authorial persona, and set forth the beginnings of a conversation about the appeal of the lively mind, Lennox moved to the real substance of her magazine. In every issue she included instalments of essay-serials

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that specifically addressed the reasons for women’s learning and the content they should be studying. She also mixed her own ideas with those of respected French advocates of women’s education. Four texts are particularly notable. A translation of “Of the Studies Proper for Women,” from a French feminist text, L’Ami des Femmes (1758), by Pierre-Joseph Boudier de Villemert, was the key text in issue 1. “Philosophy for the Ladies,” an overview of the natural world from the cosmos to a drop of fluid, appeared in issues 2 through 6, 8, and 11. “The Lady’s Geography,” ethnographic studies of Amboyna and Ceylon, also appeared in issues 2 through 6 and then again in 9 and 10. And the popular pedagogical treatise, François de Fénelon’s On the Education of Daughters, translated “by a Friend,” began in issue 4 and appeared in every issue through 11. As there was no authorial attribution, “The Lady’s Geography” and “Philosophy for the Ladies” might have been written by Lennox.95 Perhaps only “The Lady’s Geography” was written by her, as it mirrors the periodical’s title. Yet, the author of “Philosophy for the Ladies” shares Lennox’s beliefs when she explains, for example, that the observations her readers made as a result of learning “may be employed with great propriety towards humanizing the heart, and producing the most amiable effects in the general oeconomy of life and government.”96 Those who saw this benefit would automatically respect a woman’s intelligence. “Philosophy for the Ladies” referred to “Of the Studies Proper for Women” with its first line, In the enumeration of these studies which the fair sex may properly be permitted to employ some part of their time in an application to, given in our last Number, it may be remembered that history and natural philosophy stood foremost in the list.

History and natural philosophy provided the substantial content that Maria and Perdita had requested. Similarly, “The Lady’s Geography” repeated Lennox’s disclaimer at the beginning of the Lady’s Museum: “we have before observed that it shall be our endeavour in the progress of this work to render it as interesting as possible, and to reject everything that does not tend in some measure either to instruct or entertain.”97 Placing content she believed useful for women between two respected French works was consistent with Lennox’s ability to mediate, a crucial skill that she used over the course of her career, cleverly situating her ideas where they would be best heard. Here this interweaving sets up a debate in which readers must contemplate the nuances of a more rigorously intellectual curriculum. At mid-century, Villemert and Fénelon were considered more supportive of women’s learning than most of their contemporaries, and they were published together for the first time in the Lady’s Museum.98 These highly learned authors

Figure 11 One of twelve illustrations in the Lady’s Museum. This one appears in “Philosophy for the Ladies,” page 466. Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University.

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complemented one another in their advocacy for women’s minds and in their belief in the centrality of women in society. “Of the Studies Proper for Women” was chapter 2 of Villemert’s L’Ami des Femmes,99 which was published in France just two years earlier and quickly became popular, being reprinted and revised eleven times by 1799. It appeared in English for the first time in the Lady’s Museum. Lennox’s excerpt primarily addressed male readers, persuading them that prohibiting women from learning was foolish. Villemert argued that “learning is not pedantic, nor wisdom severe,” that women had played a large part in history and thus “with reason consider our archives as their own,” that women could “excel us without mortifying our pride,” and that, provocatively, intelligent people were more beautiful. He concluded his treatise by addressing women: “We live no longer in an age when prejudice condemned women, as well as nobility, to a shameful ignorance.” In choosing Villemert, Lennox was working to right this wrong. Including Fénelon’s 1687 treatise was also part of this effort. His text was the most popular, scholarly, and conservative of these four pieces and had a long life in eighteenth-century England. Mary Astell discussed it in her proto-feminist A Serious Proposal to the Ladies in 1694, George Berkeley extensively quoted it in his popular Ladies’ Library in 1714,100 and educational reformist Anna Letitia Barbauld called Fénelon her favourite French author, regularly engaging with his ideas in her own writing.101 While Villemert’s text was secular in nature, Fénelon’s included many religious sections, which Lennox omitted. Yet, by including most of his treatise and by making Fénelon a centrepiece of her magazine, Lennox not only lent more authority to her Lady’s Museum but also made educational theory one of its central issues. While some of his ideas would have seemed standard to an eighteenth-century audience, Fénelon also advocated some fairly radical proposals that were in line with Lennox’s overall project. Lennox and Fénelon agreed on one of his most ground-breaking propositions, that girls be instructed from infancy.102 Towards remedying all these evils, it is of great advantage to be able to begin the education of girls from their earliest infancy. That age which is often given up to the direction of women indiscrete, and sometimes depraved, is nevertheless the age which receives the deepest impressions, and which consequently affects their whole life.103

This understanding that a woman’s “deepest impressions” were formed early, and the fact that he included a curriculum for girls, confirmed that Fénelon was not writing a conduct book. He had an appreciation not simply for what women were taught, but how. This more nuanced sensibility was born out of a particularly rich moment for French women. In fact, the influence of women in society and politics, and thus their participation in salons, had never been stronger than

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at the end of the seventeenth century. A French papal announcement suggested women’s privileged place in society. “En France tous les grands évenements, toutes les intrigues d’importance, dependent le plus souvent des femmes” (In France, all the big events, all the important intrigues often depend on women).104 Fénelon promoted the centrality of women in society and argued for their equality, noting that men and women were the same under God. Women were “half the human race, redeemed like the other half by the blood of Christ.”105 Though he did not advocate for equal education for men and women, he was progressive in his pedagogical approaches. Fénelon was unique for his time (and for Lennox’s) in arguing against exclusively religious education combined with social and polite training for women, which was the common curriculum. He did not emphasize that women were sinners, but rather that literacy would improve their daily lives. Thus his curriculum included teaching girls “to set forth [their] thoughts in an orderly, concise and definite manner,” as well as to “know something of the chief principles of the law”: contracts, legal rhetoric, wills, property law, and the procedures of the court. Women “should listen to men of business, but not put themselves into their power.”106 In fact, Fénelon promoted many of the tenets of civic humanism. Lennox’s inclusion of Fénelon’s more traditional text alongside “Of the Studies Proper for Women,” “The Lady’s Geography,” and “Philosophy for the Ladies” not only provided authority to the Lady’s Museum overall but also presented a debate for readers to engage in. Since secularism was slowly gaining ground in mid-century England, Lennox also used her periodical to offer a legitimate way for her readers to think about women’s education outside the context of religion. A translation of Fénelon’s text proceeded systematically until “How the Principles of Religion Are to Be Instilled” and “Instructions for the Practical Part of Religion,” both of which Lennox omitted from her magazine. There are two possible explanations for this absence. For one, Lennox likely did not want to include remarks about religion from a Catholic cleric, as Fénelon was the Archbishop of Chambray. Second, Catholicism had already been ridiculed in “An Essay on the Original Inhabitants of Great Britain,” which first appeared in the third issue. Thus, she could promote Fénelon’s other ideas beginning in the fourth. On the subject of religion, Lennox did not write much, and when she did it was measured. From later letters it seems that she had some personal doubts, described by others as having “indecencies with respect to religion” and in being “perplexed about the Why and the Wherefore, of divine things.”107 It would have been easy, and perhaps recommended, for her to include more references to the role of religion in a woman’s intellectual growth. However, Lennox avoided the subject, choosing those parts of Fénelon that affirm women and encourage their minds. The first instalment of “The Lady’s Geography” intimates a spiritual realm, not attached to a particular religion: “look on the vast

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universe as one immense machine, whose complicated mechanism bespeaks an artist of almighty power and wisdom – a machine formed for our use, and consequently a most amazing proof of his benevolence and goodness.”108 This suggests a magnificent “artist” without any mention of a religion focused on man’s sinful nature. Here Lennox seems to be promoting a belief in human beings’ natural goodness separate from a deity: “A universe for our own use,” accessible for all genders, and with an “end” inspired from “benevolence and goodness.” In keep­ ing with a more secular and also more affirming tone, Lennox also omitted the next chapter in Fénelon, “Faults to Be Avoided,” a long and random list of imperfections which Fénelon claimed were specific to women. Furthermore, in other places in the Lady’s Museum, Lennox negated several of Fénelon’s opinions about how woman possessed especially corruptible minds. For example, in “Philosophy for the Ladies” she invoked Pythagoras, “who was perhaps the wisest as well as the most humane of all the heathen philosophers.”109 By encouraging her readers to appreciate the intellect of a heathen, she directly contradicted Fénelon’s recommendation never to allow women access to writers who did not believe in the Christian God. Lennox also disagreed about the content to which women’s minds should be exposed. Fénelon believed that women needed to rein in their imagination110 and avoid fiction, as it was the most dangerous form of writing.111 However, just after the first instalment of Fénelon, Lennox included an instalment of her own novel with an intellectual protagonist, “Harriot and Sophia.” This narrative juxtaposes the choices of two sisters, one a frivolous beauty and the other a wise reader. In rewarding the intelligent young woman, the story silently contradicts Fénelon’s concerns about the danger of fiction. In fact, an instalment of “Harriot and Sophia” runs through every issue of the Lady’s Museum and shares with Tobias Smollett’s Sir Lancelot Greaves the distinction of being the first serialized novel published by its author in his or her own magazine.112 As the first novel to use the break “to freeze her action at suspenseful moments,” Lennox can be credited (with Smollett) with inventing the cliff-hanger.113 Lennox shrewdly incorporated those aspects of respected ideas, like Fénelon’s, that would give authority to her project, while subtly manoeuvring the rest of her texts to promote her own objectives. Fénelon’s treatise also gave readers the opportunity to witness a debate between contradictory views about the results of women’s learning. Lennox addressed the heart of Fénelon’s claim, and a common trope, that if women were encouraged to learn more substantial topics without the undergirding of religion they would become vain and thus insufferable. Lennox demonstrated how his categorical thinking relied on faulty logic. She turned this concern on its head to equate pedantry with a greater problem, one that afflicts men just as much as it does women, namely inflated self-importance. She had begun this theme in that first

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passage of the magazine. The desire for fame – in men – and the desire to please – in women – she wrote, were in fact the same thing. This impulse was shared by the statesman, the general, the patriot, the courtier, the orator, and the woman of fashion. Then she pointed to the double standard, which Bernard Mandeville first detailed in The Fable of the Bees (1714): The same instinct that led to men receiving respect left women vulnerable to accusations of coquetry. Lennox turned the argument around and contended that if women found pleasure in learning but not in self-importance, society could in fact greatly benefit from their expanded, and thus wiser, minds. Concluding remarks in her last issue, February 1761 – on pages that she crammed in when she realized she could not continue – confirm Lennox’s overall beliefs about the female mind. With hope that her readers would develop an inquiring intellect, Lennox mused about a future in which the potential subjects for female study were “inexhaustible.” She allowed herself to dream of a time to come when the topics she set forth for women to learn were just the beginning of their knowledge, and she imagined a day when there would be no limitations on women’s minds: Could the prosecution of our plan have been pursued … even to the farthest stretch of time, our researches into the wonders of Nature’s inexhaustible storehouse, would have been no other than the pursuance of an apparent horizon, the boundaries of which are ever flying before us.114

Through the Lady’s Museum, Lennox imagined research that was unlimited in time and space, and intellectual women who were driven to explore it. From Advocacy to Action Producing the Lady’s Museum required a monumental effort. Month after month, for almost a year, Lennox produced eighty pages in a wide range of voices and genres, setting the bar extremely high for herself. She was likely producing this magazine out of her home or room. The pressure must have been tremendous. By the first of each month she had to produce an entire issue: scrambling for material, writing, translating, and then editing under each tight deadline. It is not surprising that her health suffered.115 She likely worked on this magazine both in the city and outside of it, perhaps doing more of the writing and translating work in the country. In October, in the midst of production, she wrote about working the past winter in some unknown destination outside London where “the air, together with proper exercise has restored me to a very tolerable degree of health,”116 suggesting that as soon as she was well she would be back in London.117 Though

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her hard work exhausted her, it did pay off in terms of accolades. At around this time, Tobias Smollett, who also intimately knew the intellectual complexities of periodical writing, named Lennox a “genius” in “The Progress of the Arts and Sciences.” She was listed among Swift, Pope, Garrick, and Carter.118 Still, after seven issues of her magazine, on the heels of a nearly inconceivable writing pace for the past thirteen years, she could not help but complain about her “slavery to the booksellers, whom I have the mortification to see adding to their heaps by my labours, which scarce produce me a scanty and precarious subsistence.”119 Although we do not know how much Lennox earned from this monumental task, it is clear that the work itself did not frustrate her as much as the publishers’ profits from her sweat.120 While she was producing at such a rapid rate, impressive for any author of this period, she also moved house at least nine times between 1751 and 1760. Amidst this peripatetic life, she applied – not just wrote about – the content and pedagogy she had promoted in the Lady’s Museum. Five months after the last issue, she was living in a new location and was instructing young girls. It is possible that Lennox was sometimes employed as a governess. However, evidence only exists of the famous patron, Saunders Welch. We know that in Camberwell, Surrey, a village to the south of London, Lennox was governess to Welch’s daughters, Mary and Anne, who lived with her and her husband Alexander.121 They were perhaps two of what may have been a number of students who experienced Lennox’s tutelage, one that focused on the glories of wonder and personal fulfilment that her own scholarly education had provided. Perhaps Lennox even used the Lady’s Museum as a text. At the time, Saunders Welch was the justice of the peace for Westminster. He had published, just a few years earlier, a sixty-eight-page proposal with the aim of remedying the cruel circumstances faced by orphaned children, who were “turned adrift in a town wicked as this, with minds untutored, and pinched by necessity,” who were forced into theft and prostitution and shunned by society. He noted immigrants, especially the Irish, with particular compassion, and would later help found the Magdalen House for the Reception of Penitent Prostitutes.122 Lennox had a friendly relationship with Welch and corresponded with him in a familiar way in this period. Their high-spirited repartee suggests how others may have also appreciated Lennox’s active, and sarcastic, mind. In a letter to Lennox, Welch casually mentioned his anxiety over a spirited horse he rode back from a visit at her home. “To mend the matter” he ate “an immoderate dinner,” which he blamed on Lennox, teasingly calling her by the aristocratic title “Lady.” He also joked that if he accused her, it “would gain [him] no credit,” and thus he would “bury [his] resentments” in the hope that “there will come a time … for reprisals.” However, he noted that he hesitated to retaliate “to save my bacon,” which he underlined to emphasize his playful attitude with her. Welch acknowledged that

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Lennox could hold up her end in their bantering, and he admired her for this. He called himself her friend and sent “love, respect, and a thousand wishes for the health and prosperity of Mr. and Mrs. Lennox.”123 Welch respected Lennox’s mind, and, unlike some others who might consider her to be testy during a witty exchange, he enjoyed her clever company. The pattern of friendship emerging in Lennox’s life is one of mutual respect. To her, a good relationship with a woman or a man required an equal meeting of minds. She did not suffer fools gladly. But when a person understood her, she or he could count on an empathetic friend. In choosing Lennox as Mary’s governess, Saunders Welch likely recognized his daughter’s need for a less traditional education. Mary and Anne’s mother had died, and previously they had been educated by an “antiquated gouvernante, a French woman of the old school.”124 Laetitia Matilda Hawkins reported that Mary, “who is said to have been the original of Pekuah in Rasselas,” was a particular favourite with Johnson, who valued Lennox’s wit as well as Mary’s mind. The thoughtful, adventurous, loyal, and strong-willed Pekuah would have been an ideal pupil for the content and debates laid out in the Lady’s Museum. Boswell reported that Mary “enjoyed intimate conversations” with Johnson, Lennox, Baretti, an unidentified person named Paradise, Joshua Reynolds, and “the family of Mr Wilton,” another unidentified person. Most of these men were Lennox’s friends, as were the author Sarah Scott and her Scottish husband, royal tutor and encyclopedist George Lewis Scott. In fact, Lennox’s colleagues in the production of Greek Theatre, Walter Harte and Gregory Sharpe, in separate letters suggest that Sarah and George respectively could each be frequently found with Lennox.125 Living with Lennox gave Mary an opportunity for scholarly engagement with intellectuals. When she was older, Mary was reported to have “a tolerable stock of reading,”126 and in 1771 she married a man who could continue this intellectual conversation, the leading sculptor of portrait busts, Joseph Nollekens.127 The parents of Lennox’s pupils appreciated her mind, not her domestic accomplishments, since her household may have lacked the traditional indicators of good breeding and politeness. Laetitia Matilda Hawkins, who did not seem to like Lennox personally, reported that the Lennox household was deficient in “all order and method, all decorum of appearance, and regularity of proceeding,” and that Mary’s more traditional sister, Anne, overlooked this and “endeavoured to extract from the mind of her hostess what was good, and smiled at the rest.”128 Hawkins also recognized that Lennox’s style was unique. She described the author as “too eccentric a genius to render any service to a young person of less than moderate intellect.”129 In this backhanded way, Hawkins acknowledged Lennox’s acute mind, one that required a more enlightened appreciation. As Hawkins’s critique suggests, promoting intellectual pleasure and wider scholarly access for women did not make Lennox popular in some traditional

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female circles. However, Lennox was never soundly maligned, which is particularly noteworthy in an age of strict social expectations. Because of lack of money and time, Lennox could not afford to run in high society. She stayed married to the same husband and free of gossips. Her proto-feminist magazine brought her respect rather than scorn. Although, like most magazines of its day, it did not have a long run, the Lady’s Museum’s success can be measured in numerous ways. The entire magazine may have been pirated two years later by the Irish publisher James Hoey. He maintained the word “Museum” in his title and claimed that three-quarters of his The Ladies Friend, Being a Museum for the Fair-Sex, or Cabinet of Polite Literature and Rational Amusement for Ladies was Lennox’s novel Sophia.130 Also, John Coote clearly considered Lennox’s endeavour a profitable one. As the second owner (along with Newbery) of Lennox’s magazine, he would in 1770 invest in another women’s magazine with a similar title, the Lady’s Magazine; or, the Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex (note the change of only the word “Entertaining” from Caroline Stanhope’s 1759–63 publication), which would be such a success that it was continually published monthly until 1818.131 Lennox’s Trifler pseudonym had an extended life in the periodicals and was regularly employed in the following years as well. Two years later, the Court Magazine, edited by Lennox’s apprentice, Hugh Kelly, included a Trifler eidolon, though the content is quite different from Lennox’s, and the Trifler in the Lady’s Magazine and the New Lady’s Magazine was a man. In terms of content, succeeding women’s magazines interrogated the domestic model of female life. For example, the frontispiece to the 1789 Lady’s Magazine; or, the Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex was modelled after Lennox’s frontispiece.132 The success of not just the Lady’s Museum but Lennox the author is evident in the publication of accolades for her in a popular poem. A year after her educational periodical, the poet and classical scholar Charles Churchill praised her “poetic fire” and “wit” in his poem “The Ghost.” But why should we, [who] If wit into the scale is thrown Can boast a Lennox of our own; Why should we servile customs chuse, And court an antiquated Muse?133

Not only does Lennox suggest to her female readers in the Lady’s Museum that one can find ways to get around traditional understandings of a woman’s place, and to her male readers that only an “old gentleman” would hold such quaint views, but also her life is an example of a woman who was able to dismiss these antiquated opinions with her adroit mind and dextrous pen. Churchill saw

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Lennox as an example of how England had surpassed its classical forebears. She was a modern “Muse” of whom every Englishman could be proud, and she had promoted women’s learning through the popular genre of the periodical to advocate with practical wisdom for civic virtue. Lennox’s “darling end” was accomplished entirely “by different means.”

Chapter Eight

Recasting a Career Ages 32–9 1761–8

People who know how to employ their time well are good economists of it. (Sophia, 55)

In the same year that the Lady’s Museum folded, Lennox sat in Reynolds’s expansive new home at 47 Leicester Square, which was then a square garden with grass plots in a neighbourhood that was described as “agreeably civilized.” A row of late seventeenth-century houses stood regally just to the east. In Reynolds’s large twenty-by-sixteen-foot octagonal studio – with January daylight entering the room from only one window high up on the wall – the great artist was studying Lennox.1 Reynolds had only been in London for eight years, but already his success as a painter was secure. He had recently painted the Duke of Cumberland, the Duke of York, and the Prince of Wales, just before he became George III. In an attempt to limit the number of his sitters, Reynolds had raised his prices to twenty guineas for a head, fifty guineas for a half-length, and a hundred guineas for a fulllength portrait.2 With such company and such prices, Lennox for her part (now thirty-two years old) must have been pleased. Reynolds’s rendering of her head confirmed her success and established her literary reputation even further. In fact, this is the portrait that has carried her good name into the twenty-first century through the engravings of Bartolozzi and Cook.3 Positioned near that sole window, Lennox sat stock still in Reynolds’s rolling armchair on a platform eighteen inches from the ground, conscious of the master artist’s stare. A large mahogany mirror sat next to her so that Reynolds could see her reflection. It must have been a thrill to watch the painter at work.4 This occasion marked the beginning of a friendship with Reynolds, who was six years older than Lennox, one that continued for at least the next fifteen years.

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Reynolds worked with absorbed happiness, painting with vigour as he walked back and forth. Another sitter, Lady Burlington, described his method of painting: “His plan was to walk away several feet, then take a long look at me and the picture as we stood side by side, then rush up to the portrait and dash at it in a kind of fury. I sometimes thought he would make a mistake and paint on me instead of the picture.”5 Such a moment must have felt remarkable for Lennox, as it signalled that she was now publicly revered as a respected female intellectual. Having produced eleven titles, many of which were considered important literary works, in thirteen years was in itself an extraordinary feat. More important, she was receiving critical accolades. For instance, she was the only woman writer featured in An Historical and Critical Account of the Living Writers of Great-Britain, an early anthology of “modern writers” with the intent not to show prejudice, as its author William Rider claimed not to have any personal connection with his subjects. Instead, Lennox was chosen simply for her current merit.6 Her “fine taste and superior genius as an original writer” prompted the virtuous Probus, who was in fact the journalist and translator Charlotte Forman, another even more embattled writer, to name her “the glory of the female sex, and an honour to the British nation.”7 As thrilling as all of this success was, it also brought exhaustion and demoralizing side effects over the next seven years. For one, Lennox continued to face the challenge of simple financial hardship. Not having sufficient income compounded with the labour-intensive task of managing her career and the questionable status of being a published woman author encouraged her to consider abandoning the writing life and finding other ways to spend her time. This bone-weary exhaustion was not simply the result of meeting writing deadlines. These years had also been full of chasing down London booksellers, negotiating publications and payments, and facing mercurial critics. Millar had gone bankrupt, and Newbery, who was known for his charity, insisted upon complete control over his writers. He had locked Christopher Smart in a room so that Smart would complete promised work on the periodical the Midwife.8 The gruelling monthly deadlines for the Lady’s Museum had made Lennox sick, and she could not ignore the sobering reality that her financial security was principally on her own shoulders. The assessment that Lennox was “celebrated and ingenious”9 persisted, but she had to figure out new schemes for maintaining her career, schemes that would protect her from the vicissitudes of power and politics.10 It seems that because of her job as governess to the Welches, in 1761 Lennox lived outside of London, in Surrey, on the road to Camberwell, in “the first house on the right hand on Camberwell Green with a Basket.”11 It was unusual for a governess to be married. However, Alexander and Charlotte were likely separated, and

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her move out of the city might have been motivated by Alexander’s apparent lack of ability to maintain a steady income. Some of his problems could have arisen as a result of failed attempts to associate with the aristocracy. In their circle of friends, navy officer John Clerke was ruined in part because of his relationship with Lord Rochford, Sylvia Brathwaite risked seduction and betrayal every time she went to an opera or dinner party, and “Charles Clerke [also a navyman] landed in prison, if not directly due to his own aristocratic connections, at least indirectly due to his brother’s.”12 Gambling and high rolling with aristocrats was known to frequently result in the ruin of those in the subordinate position. Alexander may have fallen into this trap of card playing, and he could have compounded their problems by living above his means, spending his wife’s hard-earned money on stylish clothes and alcohol. Lennox complains of his troubling “habits of expence.”13 Charlotte had her own complicated relationship to those who were above her in rank and status, generated by her youthful experience as a protégée of Lady Isabella Finch and Lady Mary Rockingham. It left her with an understanding of the need for patronage, but also an intimate knowledge of the privilege and self-interest of those above her in rank, which frustrated her sense of justice. The fact was that Lennox was caught in a double bind. In order to publish and succeed, she had to maintain relationships with those of higher social and economic status, but these very people were a constant reminder of her inferiority. The Bluestockings are a good example of the kinds of social groups to which Lennox would have been exposed. The hostesses Elizabeth Montagu, Frances Boscawen, and Elizabeth Vesey had begun meeting at mid-century as “a more tight-knit and informal gathering of friends” in various homes, including Montagu’s elegant residence on Hill Street west of Berkeley Square, about two and a half miles from Lennox’s Camberwell Green home south of the Thames.14 These women would have in some ways been a natural community for Lennox, as they were fascinated by intellectual issues, from history and politics to art and literary criticism, and were unique in setting aside time to discuss ideas that also interested Lennox. Yet their world was quite different from hers, as their network was primarily formed by fixed and inherited bonds of “dynastic marriage, patron­ age alliances, and kinship ties.”15 Unlike Lennox, who struggled simply to have a roof over her head, they “were so well connected with the established order, and had such a vested interest in it, that they resisted radical change to it.” Rather than making a career of literary production, as Lennox did, the Bluestockings pursued a less commercial “programme of feminisation,” which included “social philanthropy, participation in certain religious positions and practices within the established church, and especially an active role in the broad and complex cultural revolution that was developing by this time.”16 They were civically virtuous in

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the ways that Lennox, because of her limited financial means and social contacts, could only imagine. About ten years younger than the Bluestockings, Lennox may have been invited to their gatherings and may even have attended some of their salons, and she could have benefited from these women’s literary interest and support. In 1752 and 1753 the Montagu house was filled with upwards of one hundred people on some evenings;17 however, the term “Bluestocking” was not used until 1756.18 By the 1780s and 1790s, these gatherings attracted large crowds that flocked to Montagu’s grand mansion in Portman Square19 and had an air of wealth and abundance, reflecting the hostess’s passion for elegance and exoticism. For instance, “Montagu was one of the first women to create a complete Chinese scheme for her dressing room at Hill Street, including not only wallpapers and fabrics but also porcelain and furniture,”20 and she bedazzled her visitors with bright diamond rings and other “glittering appendages of opulence.”21 Yet while Montagu sought to encourage learning and debate within her social circle more generally, Lennox’s activism took the form of publication, an activity from which the Bluestockings sometimes recoiled. Eighteen years after Lennox had published her first work, Montagu’s “apprehensive attitude” towards publication meant that she considered herself “very fortunate that the pert Newswriters have not sneered at the Lady Critick.”22 Not only was publication suspect, but like many readers the Bluestockings embraced the idea of a hierarchy of genres according to moral and literary merit: they favoured history over all other genres and regarded fiction as a guilty pleasure, and thus those who produced it as doing lesser intellectual work. For that reason, Lennox’s translations of historical texts gained their approval. Although they enjoyed The Female Quixote, they criticized Henrietta and “The Art of Coquetry” was condemned.23 Possibly Lennox’s friendship with George Lewis Scott extended past hers with his estranged wife, Sarah Scott. Though they had both socialized with her during the production of Greek Theatre when they had already separated, Lennox’s acquaintance with George Lewis, whom some of the Blues detested, might have caused friction. Furthermore, Lennox’s clothes were likely not of a calibre necessary to visit their sitting rooms, and she probably simply did not have the time to pay calls. Lennox had struck out on her own path, and near continual writing deadlines consumed her waking hours. Even if she had been invited or welcomed, it is not hard to imagine that Lennox’s professional pride would have kept her from being accepted into, or allowing herself to be enveloped by, these intellectual women’s circles. Lennox clearly succeeded in relationships with the social world in so far as they helped her publish, such as the ones she had with Samuel Johnson but also with Giuseppe Baretti, Joshua Reynolds, and Saunders Welch. Extant proof of her female friendships included other writing women who encouraged her career: allies like Mary Jones and Charlotte Forman. But evidence of close relationships

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with women, such as those her younger publishing contemporaries Anna Letitia Barbauld and Hannah More had, is sparse. These women grew up outside London at their fathers’ schools and in expansive religious communities. In 1760 Barbauld was seventeen, living in the market town of Warrington and teaching at her father’s school. By 1775 she was living in retreat outside London in bucolic Hampstead. More was fifteen in 1760 and attending her father’s school in Bristol. By 1775 she was living on a two-hundred-pound-a-year settlement from a past wavering suitor, which allowed her to travel to London and get to know the literary elite. Lack of evidence, though, does not mean that Lennox did not have intimate female friendships. Similar circumstances to Barbauld and More might have allowed her more time not only to maintain, but also to leave evidence of, friendships. Although she was regularly writing about the complexities of women’s lives, only a few letters survive to paint a picture of how Lennox interacted personally with women. This dearth of correspondence should not be considered proof that Lennox did not have female friends during this period. What we can know is that maintaining her career had to be her top priority. Redirecting Efforts Throughout the 1760s, Lennox was still well regarded in the world of letters and praised for the role she played in the development of the nation. However, the political and cultural climate was radically shifting, and she could see that changes were necessary. Lennox’s imaginative surge of the 1750s was followed by what some say was the beginning of a decline in her career, though she did not give up on her profession. In an attempt to change pace, she reimagined her authorial self and spent the next decade quite differently from how she had passed the last fourteen years. Now, she produced fewer original works but still maintained a high level of engagement. These new strategies proved to be successful, as numerous references to Lennox in comments from readers and booksellers show. With this popularity to sustain her, she set to work recasting her career. Lennox’s identity as a brand-name author meant that she had more options than ever before. In the first decade of her career she was superficially, for all intents and purposes, on the side of government, as this was where she found patronage. The dedicatees of five of her first six publications were all part of the circle around the Duke of Newcastle,24 who became the First Lord of the Treasury in 1754 and remained the leading minister in the government and “one of the most important men in English public life” until his death in 1767.25 Surprisingly, considering this source of her patronage, Lennox’s publications were subtly

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oppositional. Outright opposition would obviously not have served her, and she did not show blatant support for any particular issue or faction. However, many of her decisions illustrate her skill in manoeuvring between members of the powerful elites. After refusing to join the court as a lady-in-waiting in 1747, she published a birthday poem in 1750 for the Princess Amelia, suggesting that she still wanted to maintain some contact with the court of George II, though her novel published that same year, Harriot Stuart, had no dedicatee and was still successful. Between 1752 and 1756 she had found support from the Newcastle circle, but from 1757 to 1759 she had avoided this group for dedications. Yet this did not mean that they were not still supportive of her. Then, after another run of obtaining dedications from members of the Newcastle circle, her dedicatees became the apolitical Countess of Northumberland and the Irish statesman Lord Viscount Charlemont, who would soon be advocating Irish independence. Lennox was finding backing outside her traditional supporters. She also courted and gained favour from the eventual king, now the Prince of Wales, who later rejected Newcastle. In effect, Lennox was receiving patronage from those supporting the pro-Whig agenda, while simultaneously showing proTory sympathies.26 By mid-century, religious-based politics had all but died, and even consistent ideologies were no longer the main factors in political allegiances. Individuals were choosing, usually because of their constituencies, either to side with the government or to embrace the beliefs of the opposition, which decried corruption in the government. In fact, 1760 arguably marks the beginning of key radical contests, of “populist efforts to emancipate” the people from “the forces of oligarchy.”27 In that year Lennox lived in the heart of the city and had, for that year, taken up residence on Bury Street, between St James Square and St James Street. She managed to capitalize on recent developments in politics, partly motivated by a cultural revolution that sought to comprehensively critique court government, society, culture, the systems of patronage, and paternalism.28 These developments occurred at the same time as crises such as the Seven Years’ War, the Wilkes riots and working-class protests, the debate over imperial administration in India, the beginning of the ferment that led to the American Revolution, and Dissenters’ campaigns for full citizenship. In fact, arguments over the French Revolution would force many of these issues to the precipice of national and imperial disintegration.29 Living in London, the seat of imperial expansion from the East to the West Indies, must have felt alternately volatile and exhilarating. One author writes, “New buildings and bridges were being constructed, roads were improving to accommodate sleeker, more stylish coaches, gambling was flourishing and the streets could from time to time go wild.”30 In 1760 George II died, and the Prince of Wales was subsequently crowned George III, which threw England into a period of profound political instability

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and party realignment. Now that George III was king, much was changing, and Newcastle was losing power. Lennox’s political sense kept her from associating too closely with him. For the first time in half a century, the role of the monarch in politics became a central concern. This reassessment began a move in the direction of a parliamentary system. The disintegration of one-party Whig rule, the crumbling of the old Tory party, the integrity of the British Empire, and Protestant ascendancy were important contributing factors. George III was no longer as worried about Jacobitism as his predecessors had been, and he hated the Whigs (the party with which Newcastle was associated). At the dawn of this new era in British culture and politics, Lennox was paid the highest compliment she would ever receive in terms of political and social recognition, not simply for her contribution to the world of letters but for her contribution to the nation. What had been mentioned five years before was now materializing. King George III, through the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, offered her a life-long pension.31 Considering others who were offered pensions in these years, support probably would have amounted to two to three hundred pounds per year. Offered after the publication of Sully, dedicated to Newcastle, this sustained income could have established Lennox financially until her death. However, the money was associated with various problems. For one, Lennox may have worried about how royal favour would have bound her politically. It also did not necessarily ensure a secure financial future, since pensions could be revoked, given changes in the political tides. Furthermore, exchanging her slavery to the booksellers for slavery to the particular political interests she had already rejected early in her life was not an arrangement that Lennox was prepared to make. In Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary, published just one year earlier, he unequivocally declared that in England a pension was “understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country” and that a pensioner was “a dependant” and “a slave of the state hired by a stipend to obey his master.” That is, Johnson described a pension as a kind of bribe offered to authors in exchange for writing favourably about or for the grantor. Still, the offer of the pension was an extraordinary honour. Lennox, however, had another plan that she hoped would secure her and her husband a more stable future and would allow her more freedom. She “very politely declined” the pension and instead negotiated a position for Alexander as Tidewaiter in the Customs, a place “of considerable employment,” instead.32 It was not uncommon to request a place rather than a pension. With the heightened instability of a new king, Lennox had to think carefully about her alliances. Now was the time not for emotion, but reason, and the decision she made may have altered her career for the worse. However, it is equally possible to view her decision as the best possible one, when no good opportunity was really available. Alexander is recorded to have held several minor places in the 1760s and 1770s.33

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Lennox may have seen the offer of a pension as her chance to use her influence to find a solution to their constant financial troubles, even though Alexander’s earnings would have been significantly less than she would have likely received from the pension. The average salary for a Tidewaiter, the lowest-paid of the Customs staff, was twenty pounds a year. However, considerable supplements were possible, as they were based on half the realized amount if Alexander seized illicit goods,34 and over time he could hope to advance.35 In declining the pension in 1761 and soliciting work at Customs for Alexander, Lennox put her husband in a position that required his allegiance to the government, rather than subjecting herself to the stringencies of potential, albeit subtle, censorship. Newcastle was known to have “established complete control of political patronage, civil, military, and ecclesiastical, down to the lowest levels: ‘he made certain that the meanest government official in the Customs and Excise, or in the service of the Admiralty or the Post Office, had to use his vote, if he had one, in accordance with instructions or lose his job.’”36 In these developments, Lennox proved herself to be savvy. Since she was a successful author, she could earn money on her own, but Alexander had already attempted the life of a tradesman and failed.37 Thus, Lennox may have believed that employment for her husband was a better gamble than a pension that was only as secure as the political party that granted it. In other words, she capitalized on her literary reputation to manoeuvre herself and her husband into the best situation she could imagine, providing an example of the “practical wisdom” she had explored in the Lady’s Museum, and again demonstrating that she preferred an independent mind to one that might have to serve political loyalties. To add to the mystery of their relationship, Charlotte and Alexander did not, yet, have children. The prospect could not have been far from their minds, since most married women in their early thirties were already mothers. It was generally assumed that to marry was to become, or to anticipate becoming, a parent. It is curious that Charlotte and Alexander were childless after eighteen years of marriage. Marrying young and with minimal income, Alexander and Charlotte – like others with limited resources throughout time – may have intentionally restricted their fertility. Several birth control practices were available to them, including charting women’s cycles, herbal recipes and douches that functioned as spermicides, and coitus interruptus. (Almost all references to condoms in the period concern their use for men to protect against venereal disease.) Still, restricting pregnancy would have been condemned. One author in 1724 censored married couples who “think children come too fast, and distrust the capacity of maintaining them.” He called it “a very great Crime, which every one ought to avoid.”38 Other explanations for not bearing a child could include temporary infertility or miscarriage, perhaps caused by insufficient nutrition.

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Alexander’s employment before he assumed the post at Customs is unclear, but there is no doubt that they struggled. He may have worked in the publishing industry, in printing – after having assisted Strahan – and then later gone out on his own to ply his own trade (unsuccessfully). As we have seen, he helped Charlotte with various writing projects by looking for an Italian tutor for her, negotiating contracts, and even serving as her amanuensis. At least in small ways, Alexander had contributed to bringing Charlotte’s projects to fruition, but in her weary state and with the prospect of political ferment, steady work for Alexander seemed a better choice than securing a pension for herself. As luck would have it, Alexander’s service may have also helped them weather the political storm that immediately broke. Accusations of corruption were rampant: the king’s friends, such as Lord Bute, were being given top positions. In 1761 Bute, George III’s close confidant, a Scot and a Stuart, was blamed for the war with Spain. As a result, popular hatred for Lord Bute was widespread. The king’s reaction was to spread his own propaganda, and his administration chose Tobias Smollett (also a Scot) to edit a periodical called the Briton to support his causes. Opposition took the form of the enormously popular weekly newspaper the North Briton (begun 5 June 1762), under the direction of the poet and classical scholar Charles Churchill (who had praised Lennox in the poem discussed in the previous chapter). English radical John Wilkes also played a major role. For his part, Wilkes, who was supported by Lennox’s friend, the police magistrate Saunders Welch, consistently attacked the Bute ministry. Since the king’s propaganda outlet, the Briton, was not proving effective, Bute’s group enlisted Arthur Murphy to start the Auditor, and “the bitter struggle to capture public opinion had begun.”39 However, this periodical did not save Bute, and ultimately Wilkes’s torment forced Bute to resign on 23 April 1763. Wilkes did not stop there and began to direct his criticism at the king, resulting in his arrest. During these uncertain times in which loyalites were unclear, Lennox was wise to redirect her efforts. She slowed her rate of publication, recovered from the intensity of the breakneck publishing of the last fourteen years, republished, revamped, and resolicited. Dedicating herself to fine-tuning her work and negotiating a new political landscape, she stayed engaged in the literary marketplace while she navigated this recalibrated partisan climate and regained her energy. She shifted from constant production of new material to a plan that relied on Alexander earning the majority of the family income. This shift in roles left her more freedom concerning what (and how quickly) she wrote. As she recast her career, Lennox drew on previous efforts and republished two of her popular novels. These publications mark the beginning of a reduced rate of production, which she maintained throughout the rest of her career. The first title to appear was a second edition of Henrietta on 20 March 1761, dedicated

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to the Duchess of Newcastle. Since the Newcastles valued their association with Lennox, Lennox’s dedication was part of the deal she struck with them for Alexander’s post.40 For the first time, Lennox’s full name appeared on the title page of her work: “Mrs. Charlotte Lennox,” rather than her prior moniker, “The Author of The Female Quixote.” Her fourteen years of constant literary success meant that her name had enough recognition to be invoked as advertisement alone. Soon after, “The History of Harriot and Sophia,” her serial novel for the Lady’s Museum, appeared in 1762 as a stand-alone novel under the shorter title Sophia. Highlighting the merit of the intelligent and wise young woman over her frivolous and vain sister, the novel embodies, and in fact reasserts, ideas of female independence without advocating women’s political involvement. Sophia centres on a thoughtful, bookish, and open-minded protagonist. Again “Mrs. Charlotte Lennox” was printed on the title page. Notably, this novel appeared with no dedication, perhaps marking the fact that Lennox was beginning to emancipate herself from powerful and wealthy individuals. As a matter of fact, all of her future publications eschewed dedications. Striking out on her own, as both Henrietta and Sophia had, was part of Lennox’s own style. Perhaps it was her fatal flaw. Not aligning herself closely with the elite and connected, having a bristly personality, and not maintaining an expected level of sociability might have condemned her career. However, the patterns in her writing indicate an author who prized autonomy and challenging the status quo. She also valued her ability to craft narratives that incisively critiqued inequalities and injustices, including the double bind that young women experienced when they were subjected to patronage relationships.41 Yet Lennox also had to keep those people in mind who had helped her along the way. If she made enemies, existing documents do not reveal them. Even as she rejected circumstances that inhibited her physical and intellectual freedoms, she found friendship among the powerful, some of whom were in the publishing industry but many of whom were formidable aristocrats. At this juncture, Lennox was looking for a more sustainable way to manage her career, while continuing to promote thoughtful female characters and provocative storylines. Readers’ responses to Sophia exemplify this new phase of Lennox’s career. One reviewer acknowledged the fickle nature of the profession of authorship, suggesting that although Lennox was “a veteran practised in great atchievements [sic], and repeatedly crowned with laurels,” Sophia was not a better novel than those Lennox had previously published. However, he defended her: “the current of a living Author’s reputation is … ever on the ebb or flow,” and it is natural that every new work may not be superior to the last.42 The novel itself still received many favourable reviews. Critics said it “exemplified the triumph of wit and virtue over beauty,”43 had “well executed characters,”44 was “ingenious,” “interesting,”45

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“natural,”46 “elegant,”47 and represented “a perfect knowledge of the human heart.”48 Thus, early in the 1760s Lennox was finding a path to publication that better suited her without losing critical acclaim. Rejecting a pension and recasting her career may have played an important part in setting her free to advocate more honestly. Although she did not publish numerous new titles, Lennox flourished during these years of political ferment, and reprints of her works were advertised nearly every month for over a decade.49 To prove how successful she had been in the 1750s, in 1766 the exceptionally successful booksellers Millar, who had shrewdly used the bankruptcy to protect his assets,50 and Thomas Cadell teamed up to advertise Harriot Stuart, The Female Quixote, Shakespear Illustrated, Henrietta, and Berci in one block advertisement. Booksellers saw that writing by “Mrs. Charlotte Lennox” sold and that their readers wanted not just her novels, but her criticism, translations, and poems. “Why Silent Now?” Although Lennox was praised for her writing from many quarters, for the first time there was cause for her readers to complain. They were disappointed that she was not producing original works. After having published, on average, a title every year for over a decade, in 1764 she had not created anything new in three years. On 28 June 1764, one such reader, C.M., published a poem in the London Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser lamenting Lennox’s lull. In fact, this fan may have been Catharine Macaulay, who had recently produced her first work, the initial volume of The History of England from the Accession of James I to that of the Brunswick Line, which became an impressive eight volumes published over twenty years.51 Macaulay was just one year younger than Lennox and shared a similar willingness to publish that contrasted with the expectations of the Montagu circle. In 1764 she would have been looking for inspiration from the few other successful female authors to continue her enormous project. Macaulay was also engaged in politics, and both she and Lennox were among the small number of women historians. Macaulay had arrived in London in the same year that the Lady’s Museum was being published, and her interest in English history would have led her to Lennox’s translation of Paul Rapin de Thoyras’s 1726 History of England (in which Lennox gives far more attention to Boadicea than does Rapin), to her “Original Inhabitants of Great Britain,” and to her other historical entry in the Lady’s Museum, her biography of Joan of Arc.52 Lennox and Macaulay had many literary friends in common, including Samuel Johnson and Alexander Strahan (the bookseller William’s son), who regularly gathered his friends around his table for meals.53 The Macaulay table was also open to their extensive circle of friends, including the native Scot, English MP, and secretary to the Treasury George Rose,

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who would be a loyal friend to Lennox at the end of her life.54 In addition, it may not be a coincidence that both of Macaulay’s husbands and many of her friends were Scots.55 Lennox’s admiration for her Scottish father may have played a role in the number of Scottish friends she had. It would seem likely that Lennox and Macaulay had close associations, even a genuine friendship. Their known meeting was reported by Ezra Stiles, an American academic who was friends with Macaulay. He described witnessing Macaulay make a point of stopping and speaking with Lennox in Marylebone Gardens.56 As if part of this conversation, the female Gazetteer poet, C.M., writes to goad Lennox. She urges her to get back to regular publication in part because Lennox, who had found a way to “please” in her own way and had easily commandeered impressive literary laurels, now seems no longer interested in keeping up her literary productions. The poem, titled “To Mrs. Charlotte Lennox,” reads: While Ladies from our sex usurp the bays, And some write histories, and some write plays; Where’s now the elegant, the moral vein, The soul of wit, that breathes in Charlotte’s strain? Oh happy genius! that so oft has shown Each power of fancy, judgment, wit thy own. Why silent now? to fame, preferring ease; Careless of pleasing, ’cause thou’rt sure to please. Fame, by all others courted, thee pursues, And thou, thou only, does her smiles refuse.57

Whoever this author discussing women’s usurpation of the literary world was, it is clearly a woman (“from our sex”). In this popular newspaper she complains that Lennox, who writes in a vein simultaneously “elegant” and “moral,” is slowing down just when she is on the brink of even greater fame. This sort of sisterly encouragement shows an understanding of the specific difficulties for women, and could be an allusion to Lennox’s discussion of the problem of pleasing readers in her first entry in the Lady’s Museum. There, Lennox argued that women are blamed for being proud the moment they seek “to please.” Here, C.M. assures Lennox that her authorial efforts will not be in vain. Though “all others” might not admit it, they long for fame, while Lennox is studiously avoiding it. This author is perplexed at Lennox’s timing. “Why silent now?” she asks, insinuating that Lennox could have been providing an important (and little heard) female voice as their country struggled to right itself. There may very well have been a political component to C.M.’s poem as well. The widely circulated Gazetteer was known for favouring commercial London58

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and for exploring the politics and manners of the age.59 Beginning in 1762, “political controversy was … the most outstanding feature of the paper,” which was distinctive for its large section dedicated to description and commentary on court and opposition. In the past, partners of the newspaper had been required to apologize for printing parliamentary proceedings, but now the Gazetteer was managing to critique the government without repercussion.60 The popularity of John Almon (1737–1805), the newspaper’s editorial assistant, among leaders of the opposition was considered a valuable asset to the Gazetteer, as it attracted important voices and inspired his regular column “An Independent Whig.”61 Soon after the political furore over John Wilkes’s activities heated up in May 1762, Almon took a house in Piccadilly, converted the lower part into a bookshop, and continued to write about his favourite themes, “the defense of Wilkes and Chatham and attacks on Bute and the Scotch nation,” possibly under the pseudonym B.X.P.62 Beginning in March 1764, the publisher had to appear at the bar of the House of Lords several times to explain what was described as “gross and insolent” breaches of privilege. One of these summonses was required when the Gazetteer ran a message from the Lords to a group of weavers rioting in support of John Wilkes.63 This was the forum, then, where C.M.’s poem in praise of Lennox was published in 1764. As a matter of fact, the Gazetteer was not only interested in “policy, commerce, and matters important to the Nation,”64 it also prided itself on promoting high-quality poems. “Imagination, description, justness of thought, strength, dignity of expression, and harmonious cadence must all unite to make any piece of poetry acceptable to the public.”65 In this vein, Almon was responsible for creating a new department at the newspaper, “Articles of Literature and Entertainment,” which contained summaries and extracts of publications and plays described in other papers. By receiving praise in this venue, Lennox might have been linked to the Wilkite cause – in which Macaulay and her brother were also deeply involved, and which friends Charles Churchill and Saunders Welch supported. Another poem in the Gazetteer (just six months after C.M.’s) also linked Lennox and Macaulay (though here as literary celebrities) and requested that Lennox allow her recently painted Reynolds portrait to be made public, just as Macaulay had.66 And Lennox too, form’d as she is to please, With native softness, elegance and ease; Whose eyes the triumph of her wit begin, And shew the riches of the soul within. Lennox, than whom, no brighter female name, E’er help’d to fill the long records of fame; But fair example may prevail, and she Whose works we all have read, we all may see.

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Indeed, this author notes Lennox’s beauty, but the depth of her thought is what her readers long for. The fact that the Gazetteer was expressing a desire for Lennox to return to print and promoting her visibility through her portrait suggests that her voice was still considered important not just in the literary world, but also in the more political world of journalism. Silence for Lennox could have been necessary for many reasons. Association with Wilkes was problematic, but so was the simple reality of Lennox’s gender. The problems concomitant with being a publishing woman may have simply worn her down. While some authors celebrated a woman’s presence in print, men were still expected – even according to the progressive Wilkes – to “maintain the superiority which nature, revelation, and the laws give him” within the family, and “any woman of understanding” would accept that her husband should direct her actions and not apologize for whatever tyranny he deemed necessary.67 Thus, for Lennox, being celebrated in the newspapers was a curse as well as a blessing. Johnson, Lennox’s friend and ally, understood the circumstances to which intellectual women were daily subjected. During this time he wrote a short story called “The Fountains” (1766), which does not refer specifically to Lennox, but represents in general the potentially fatal plight for thinking women in general. His story begins with two women chafing at the constraints of social control and thus working for justice. A fairy grants the protagonist, Floretta, the power to control the rest of her life. A female version of Johnson’s protagonist Rasselas, Floretta seeks the best life possible, assuming that particular qualities will bring her happiness. She begins with beauty, but trades it for fidelity, then money, then wit. However, even wit – which first feels pleasurable – means that she “saw almost every thing as wrong.” Having this critical perspective means that she is scorned by her community, since “the vehemence of a woman’s mind … procures detestation.”68 While Lennox was not subjected to such public derision, her relationships would certainly have felt at least some strain. Her experiences might not have been that different from those of Floretta, who also has many male friends and does not embrace traditional female social customs: With the most unpolluted purity of mind, [Floretta] was censured as too free of favours, because she was not afraid to talk with men: With generous sensibility of human excellence, she was thought cold or envious, because she would not scatter praise with undistinguishing profusion: With tenderness that agonized at real misery, she was charged with delight in the pain of others, when she would not condole with those whom she knew to counterfeit affliction. She derided false appearances of kindness and of pity, and was therefore avoided as an enemy to society. As she seldom commended or censured with some limitations and exceptions, the world condemned her as indifferent to the good and bad; and because she was often doubtful

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where others were confident, she was charged with laxity of principles, while her days were distracted and her rest broken by niceties of honour and scruples of morality.

Floretta sees people too clearly and values sincerity too highly. Her “unpolluted purity of mind” means that although she is lonely, she finds it impossible to give up her new-found knowledge and understanding. Instead the narrative ends with her acceptance that these qualities make her a social pariah. Tragically, her only relief is death. Since Johnson points not only to the human condition but to the particular difficulties of being a woman who possessed “dignity of mind,” this tale is discouraging for the (female) mind inclined to think critically. Speaking to men, scorning flattery, being sincere, and seeing the complexities, rather than obvious wrong and right – like Johnson’s protagonist – Lennox had to negotiate the balance between pointing out social injustice and remaining passive about it. Johnson’s letters of this period show that he recognized that Lennox did not fit the traditional feminine mould. In one instance, he wrote that she was not “elegant and ladylike” like the “Great Ladies” of mid-century, presumably in reference to the Bluestockings.69 However, where others did not appreciate Lennox’s ambitious spirit and forthrightness, he was confident that her “powers” were “acknowledged”70 because she was so successful in the publishing world. This had not been easy: even Samuel Paterson, a successful bookseller and Lennox’s first publisher, acknowledged: the fate of the living Author, in these abused and hard times, depends much upon the caprice of this tasteless confectioner [the bookseller]. The causes of salvation and damnation to authors, are various – arising, in a great measure, from the petulancy of this set of men, and the jealousies and distractions which subsist among them.71

Lennox had shown herself to be extraordinary in her ability to negotiate these men’s “petulancies,” “jealousies,” and “distractions.” However, the cost, in addition to her health, was her inability to find friendship with more powerful literary women such as the Bluestockings; the benefit, her ability to earn her living (and likely some or all of Alexander’s) by her pen. Undoubtedly the experience of fame/celebrity was also thrilling, and the admiration of women like Macaulay would have been gratifying. Yet, for all of the hopes of Lennox’s supporters, she was realistic, knowing that if she wrote in a more directly critical manner she would have no chance of being published and would only end up in even greater poverty. Lennox would have known this from the experiences of some of her predecessors and contemporaries. Though Lennox was not producing writing at the same rate as she had in the previous decade, in the 1760s she continued to be held up in newspapers and

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literary circles as a respected author, one who not only had genius but was original while appealing to current tastes. In 1761, the same year that Lennox was painted by Joshua Reynolds, Smollett wrote in his Continuation of the Complete History of England that Lennox had distinguished herself by her “Taste and Ingenuity” and that she and Elizabeth Carter were the only women who had “signalized [themselves] by many successful Efforts of Genius, both in Poetry and Prose.” This declaration was immediately reprinted in the Public Advertiser, along with the passage in which it was written. The larger passage focused on a long list of eminent authors and began, “Genius in writing spontaneously arose, and though neglected by the Great, flourished under the Culture of a Public which had Pretensions to Taste and piqued itself on encouraging literary merit.”72 Lennox’s favour with the public continued. Two years later, the Scottish military surgeon, scholar, humanist, and contributor to Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, James Grainger, who strongly believed in the importance of the Caribbean to the British empire, wrote the famous pastoral-topographical poem “The Sugar Cane,” a seminal work in the history of Anglophone Caribbean literature, while he was in St Kitt’s. The Scoto-Britannus,73 as he called himself, proudly presented this poem to his friends, among whom were Johnson, Richard Glover, Percy, Reynolds, and ­William Shenstone. Grainger wrote wistfully of Lennox, with whom he had a close friendship.74 He complimented her, noting that in her “green years / True genius blest her with benignest gifts.”75 Perhaps he had also been recently impressed with Lennox’s attention to Amboyna and Ceylon in “The Lady’s Geography” of the Lady’s Museum. Yet his was also a backhanded compliment, since in his frustration with her refusal to publish he assumed her “green years” were over. At mid-century, Lennox was regularly associated with Macaulay and Carter. They were the English triumvirate that could outshine the French. Carter, whose reputation was secured with her 1758 translation of Epictetus, was praised as a great scholar because of her ability to read Greek.76 Carter and Lennox were the only two women allowed to mark the state of learning, “the powers of the human mind” resulting in literary fame, “from the Revolution to the Conclusion of the Peace in 1763” in Thomas Mortimer’s A New History of England. Lennox is described as having “signalized herself by many successful efforts of genius, both in poetry and prose.”77 In describing the best British women writers, who served to fan the fires of patriotism in these troubling times, another journalist proclaimed that Lennox’s “elegant” writings “displayed the greatest variety of talents that ever enriched a female genius.” He went so far as to assert that Lennox’s knowledge and skill were superior to Macaulay’s: “I will venture to maintain, that there is more knowledge, more sentiment, greater power of thought, and elegance of stile, in a few pages of Mrs. Lenox’s original compositions than in a whole volume of Mrs. McAulay’s work which she is pleased to call a history.”78

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The critique of Macaulay’s knowledge and skill was undoubtedly politically motivated, since her History explicitly criticized the monarchy and was accused of “emphatic Whiggism.”79 This further emphasizes Lennox’s wisdom in restricting her greatest critical powers to the literary realm and steering clear of overtly writing about politics. Being “silent now” proved safe, that is until 1767. Her hiatus did not result in ending her career. Family: The Real and the Represented During these years in which Lennox’s work was constantly before the public, she worked steadily but slowly. Alexander’s new post at the Customs House seems to have meant that Charlotte was able to work less. His steady income may have allowed them, for a time, to purchase more nourishing food more frequently. In fact, this new arrangement may have produced a particularly surprising side effect. On Saturday morning in Covent Garden, on 23 March 1765, Charlotte heard the cries of her first child. Becoming a mother at age thirty-six undoubtedly transformed her world, though how exactly her work would continue with little Henrietta Holles Lennox in the house was still left to be determined. Life on King Street was suddenly bustling with the needs of a baby, rather than those of the printing presses. In fact, this event was proof that female intellectual activity, even the public kind, did not make a woman barren. Henrietta’s birth announcement in the newspapers again noted Lennox’s esteemed status in London, as she was described as “a lady well known in the literary world.”80 One month later, the baby was baptized at the prestigious St Paul’s cathedral. Lennox’s publications gave her important connections, and thus a network that might benefit her child, who was also given the name Holles, which can be assumed to come from the duke and duchess, Thomas and Henrietta Pelham-Holles. Harriet, the frequently used shortened version of the baby’s name, was enveloped into the traditions of midcentury English society in the pre-eminent church in England.81 Her godmother, and her namesake, was Lady Henrietta Pelham-Holles, the Duchess of Newcastle. The duchess’s willingness to be the godmother of Lennox’s first child is especially touching, a gesture that went far beyond the typical patronage relationship. Harriet’s birth did not slow her mother’s literary engagement, and in fact it may have motivated her further. The sale of so many of her titles and her continued fame in the literary world should have given her a stable financial base from which to raise a child, but it seems that finances were still tight, or at least that was how she represented her circumstances to publishers. With a baby in arms, Lennox continued to ply her literary connections. The Lennoxes named their daughter not only after the Duchess of Newcastle, Henrietta, but also after the Duke, Holles, perhaps as a type of insurance policy. The duke had briefly returned

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to office as Lord Privy Seal during the administration of his supporter Rockingham. Unfortunately, the next year the duke was forced out of power for the last time.82 Unsurprised, Lennox turned to another of the powerful in her network, Sir William Musgrave, Customs Commissioner, who was a dedicated public servant and bibliographic scholar to whom she sent some of her own writing in hopes of procuring his support, perhaps in the form of a higher position and thus increased salary for Alexander.83 Charlotte was the one in the family with influence, and this had to have been evident to Alexander as well. Musgrave spoke of the “intrinsic merit” of Lennox’s writing, but that did not equate to his helping them. He did, however, acknowledge Alexander’s good character, which is the only affirming reference to Lennox’s husband that has survived. While Lennox maintained a productive career, 1765 shook her sense of herself in another deeply personal way. It is not known whether Charlotte had contact with her mother, who had stayed in New York after her father died. However, five months after Lennox herself became a mother, her own mother, Catherine Ramsay, died in New York. As the Gazetteer explained in August 1765, By a private letter from New York we are informed of the death of Mrs. Ramsay, widow of Colonel James Ramsay, some years ago Commander in Chief at Albany. This lady was mother to the celebrated Mrs. Lennox.84

Once again, news about “the celebrated Mrs. Lennox” appeared in the London papers. Up to this point, mother figures in Lennox’s works (superficial in Harriot Stuart and Sophia; cruel in the Trifler’s writings, absent in The Female Quixote, and loving but rash in Henrietta) were women who could not properly nurture their responsible and precocious daughters. In fact they were far more interested in their own concerns than in their daughters’ well-being. If this is any indication of Lennox’s relationship with her own mother, who scorned her interest in books and writing and sent her across the ocean soon after her father’s death to her unstable aunt in the big city of London, this loss must have invoked complicated emotions. Gazing into her own baby’s face, Lennox, like most new mothers, undoubtedly imagined how she would parent differently. At the same time, in keeping with her commitment to her literary career, Lennox was soon publishing a new novel with her old friend, the successful bookseller James Dodsley.85 In October of 1766, with a one-year-old at home and the loss of her mother still fresh, Lennox had completed a new novel, The History of Eliza, after her longest hiatus of six years.86 This novel is a digression from Lennox’s earlier narratives, as it presents a more cohesive picture of marriage. The novel begins with the beautiful Eliza, who also has natural wit. In addition, she has applied herself through useful study and “proved at once the force of her genius.”87

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The precocious Eliza is in financial straits, subjected first to a spendthrift guardian and then to a husband who loves her deeply. However, he is overly emotional and loves city life and all its extravagancies, possibly not unlike Lennox’s own husband. Even in his rashness and extreme sensitivity, Lennox’s Eliza finds companionship with her husband. Their love for one another and the psychological exploration of financial pressures before and during a marriage combine to create a complex picture of marital life. Although they are subjected to numerous trials, their story ends happily, with a baby on the way, a ten-thousand-pound inheritance, a title, and an estate. The novel’s meta-narration reveals that Lennox felt obliged to provide, or make an excuse for, a joyful conclusion. The narrator reminds the reader that she cannot leave Eliza until “I have conducted her to happiness … according to the custom of the romance writers.”88 Yet even up until the penultimate paragraph the narration gives the sense that – as it has in the rest of the novel – Eliza is still in danger. The final twist rewards the love between this wise wife and her overly sentimental husband. The most interesting aspect of Lennox’s Eliza (1767) is that it is in dialogue with an earlier anonymous tale, also called Eliza; Or the History of Miss Granville (1766), and with a major character called “Charlotte Lenox.” Although the author of this Eliza has not been identified, the title page reads “By the Author of Indiana Danby.” This unknown author also published The History of Indiana Danby (1765) and The History of Pamela Howard (1773),89 which is the most extended intertextual reference to Clarissa and includes the character Sir Charles Grandison, who appears to nurse the aristocratic libertine back to health.90 Clearly the anonymous author enjoyed intertextual narrative play, which is also central to Eliza; Or the History of Miss Granville. This novel consists of letters written by Eliza and addressed to her dear friend, Charlotte Lenox, whom she describes as having “pretty arch smiles and dimpled cheek”91 and as being “a little siren”92 who wooed her husband with her guitar and taught him how to play. (In other intertextual references, Charlotte Lenox is compared to Richardson’s Pamela and to Sidney’s Philoclea.) Charlotte’s “pretty, bashful timidity” and her “soft and gentle” way are attractive to her friend, perhaps because they are the opposite of her own character, which is “lively and gay.”93 This earlier novel is a compelling story about the eponymous protagonist, who detests marriage and loves her liberty. It begins with a compelling proto-feminist diatribe spoken by Eliza to her friend, railing against the chains of marriage. Eliza “collects daily fresh arguments … against the state [that Charlotte] embraces”94 and likes to flirt; however, this does not last long before she is detailing her cure from coquetry, while a married libertine is trying to seduce her. This earlier protagonist attempts to keep her female friendship free from the distraction of men; but to her great sadness, her dear friend Charlotte falls in love. She thus loses hope of

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maintaining a female connection, and Charlotte’s marriage eventually convinces Eliza to consider the decent man, Essex. Since female friendship is fleeting, Eliza is drawn to Essex’s conversational skills. However, married life is not devoid of problems, nor are the marriages around her. Thus the novel ends, in medias res, with all marital relationships that Eliza has witnessed in a tenuous state at best – if not doomed to failure. The last line of the novel is a call for Charlotte Lenox to come with her husband and be at Eliza’s side. In a sense Charlotte does arrive, as “the friend,” in the form of her own narrative, Lennox’s The History of Eliza, Written by a Friend. Lennox’s novel is comparable to the story of the prior, anonymous novel, since Eliza is described as having a similar countenance and character: “bright eyes” and a personality that is “full of fire.”95 Like the first Eliza, she is at the mercy of an irresponsible guardian and has a number of women around her who let her down. In fact, women threaten both protagonists’ marriages by causing jealousy between each Eliza and her husband. However, in Lennox’s account, women are less loyal to one another. As a panegyric on the glories of a healthy marriage, Lennox’s novel contrasts with its predecessor. In these years, perhaps, Alexander and Charlotte were happy together. Although nearly all accounts describe Alexander as a good-fornothing husband, Lennox does not complain. In a letter to a friend she says that he stays with her “as often as his business will permit,” and she is compassionate towards him even though “the American War has greatly reduced his income, while it has left him the same habits of expence.” At least at one point in her life she was comfortable with the fact that Alexander could provide for them, reporting with equanimity that Alexander was “suppl[ying] [her] expences.”96 Given that throughout most of their marriage they struggled financially, the drama of financial vicissitude may have, at least during some periods, drawn them closer, rather than pushed them further apart. Lennox’s Eliza is also noteworthy because Charlotte and Alexander were able to play a more prominent role in the novel’s production by sharing the investment with the bookseller. Thus, they took a tremendous financial gamble. Owning half the copyright for Eliza meant contributing twenty pounds to divide the risk of publication with Dodsley. Printing a fairly large run of one thousand copies, they agreed to share not only the copyright but also the profits of all future editions.97 Although they hoped for significant sales, for some reason the proprietors did not capitalize on Lennox’s past successes by adding “Mrs. Charlotte Lennox” or “By the Author of the Female Quixote” on the title page. Instead, “By a Friend” appeared. This marketing is not consistent with Lennox’s earlier strategies and perhaps can only be explained by the destabilizing trifecta of exhaustion, urgency, and grief from Charlotte’s mother’s passing. Unlike all of Lennox’s other novels, Eliza was not reissued in a second edition. In some ways this short novel is

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formulaic, lacking some of the vibrancy and complexity of her earlier works. It endeavours to be “a useful lesson for her sex,” as the preface states; but, unlike Lennox’s other novels, it is neither inventive nor entertaining.98 In fact, the preface suggests that Lennox was coerced by “a Lady” into making this woman’s story public. Although this is a trope of the period, Lennox does not employ it in any of her other novels. Also, her narrator claims that she is “not used to throw my thoughts on paper.” This could be seen as Lennox’s disclaimer. Without personal inspiration, this is all an author can offer her readers. Eliza did not sell well, which not only stung, but it may have precipitated Alexander’s dramatic decision to go to Scotland. Alexander’s position in Customs would have offered the couple a basic life, if they were frugal, and it even seems to have allowed them enough to save up for the investment with Dodsley. However, the loss from Eliza was significant. Internalizing the pain of a vanished year’s salary, Alexander left town in search of another solution for their financial straits, leaving Lennox and three-year-old Harriet at Somerset House, a kind of almshouse for the poor that the duchess had arranged and where Lennox was a housekeeper, a job for which she (and others) did not think she was particularly well suited. Alexander’s “birth misfortunes” may have prompted him to think he had a chance of petitioning the Scottish House of Lords for the earldom of Lennox, as he believed he was a descendant of Donald, the illegitimate son of Duncan, Earl of Lennox.99 However, this petition did not result in a title or property, and Alexander returned to Charlotte and Harriet with the same financial difficulties he had left behind. In fact, it would not have been surprising if he ended up in debtor’s prison. Although this decade had begun hopefully with Joshua Reynolds’s portrait, royal recognition, deep and public admiration from other authors, and many successful new editions of her earlier works, Lennox must have begun to feel more hopeless towards the end of the 1760s. She had gambled on greater intellectual independence, but now she was living at her eleventh London address in seventeen years.100 Although living in a wide range of communities from the City to Westminster would have contributed to Lennox’s knowledge and ability to represent people of varying social classes, identities, and motivations, moving house regularly would also have strained her mental and physical abilities. Alone in London with her small daughter, living in an apartment offered by a patroness, albeit a benevolent one, Lennox may have doubted her decision to turn down that royal pension. She was undoubtedly licking her wounds from the failure of Eliza, and she was clearly still not free of outside influences. No longer under the thumb of relentless deadlines that had never given her real financial stability, Lennox may have felt some consolation. Unfortunately, literary fame and being known did not pay the bills. So once again Lennox embarked on a new plan.

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Chapter Nine

“The Law of Custom” … or of “Fools”? Ages 40–5 1769–74

The law has no power over heroes. (The Female Quixote, 128)

On Saturday night, 18 February 1769, one of the two premier theatres in London, Covent Garden, was full of visitors from far and wide. It was a remarkably large audience for an unknown play. Lennox’s plan to reorient her career was under way. She had conceived a new form for her successful novel Henrietta,1 and it was now appearing to this heaving crowd as the play The Sister. It earned an extraordinary 234 pounds 5 shillings, making this – along with four others – one of the highest-grossing plays of the thirty-seven performed that month.2 However, a portion of the audience was clearly not interested in seeing the play succeed. They proceeded to sabotage the performance by organized and continual catcalling. Without knowing anything about The Sister, part of the audience engaged in the common practice of “damning” or “hissing.” Lennox’s most immediate predecessor as a female playwright, Elizabeth Griffith, had experienced this kind of organized damning on the opening night of her first play, The Platonic Wife, four years earlier,3 and Frances Sheridan’s The Dupe had been hissed at the year before. On this Saturday night in 1769, the audience’s attention was broken by the noise of the rabble-rousers. First, the play was interrupted briefly several times, but it went on. However, at the beginning of the fifth act, the noise forced the performers to stop entirely. One of the lead actors, William Powell, who played the role of brother to the protagonist Miss Courteney, came out and requested the crowd’s patience and promised that the play would never see the stage again if the audience still did not approve at

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the end of the performance. This seemed to quiet the house – but the highly entertaining dialogue and winning humour of The Sister was not enough to prevail. In spite of Oliver Goldsmith’s epilogue, the audience loudly condemned Lennox’s play.4 This scene was exactly what Lennox and the manager of Covent Garden Theatre, George Colman, had feared. They may have heard rumours of this potential disruption. Colman, one of the most successful playwrights of the era, had composed a clever prologue that he hoped would calm the audience and even put them in a good mood. As the curtain was drawn, the illustrious actress Mrs Mattocks delivered Colman’s prologue, which drew attention to Lennox’s gender and questioned traditional roles. The law of custom is the law of fools – And yet the wise are govern’d by her rules. Why should Men only prologue all our plays, Gentlemen-Ushers to each modern Bayes? Why are the Fair to Epilogues confin’d Whose tongues are loud, and gen’ral as the wind? Mark how in real life each sex is class’d! Woman has there the first word and the last.

The Sister critiques the status quo, “the law of custom.” Those, the supposedly “wise,” who set their beliefs based on tradition are mocked, and the privileges of men are challenged. To illustrate this, Mrs Mattocks inverts the trend and recites the prologue, rather than the epilogue, as is the usual law of custom. In addition, Lennox was contesting convention not only in writing about but also by embodying the critique that only fools abided by instinctive habit. Through the voice of Mrs Mattocks, Colman’s prologue entreated the audience’s sense of fairness, asking them not to condemn the play merely because it was written by a woman, and one who has invoked the unconventional Don Quixote before. Boast not your gallant deeds, romantic men! Tonight a Female Quixote draws the pen. Arm’d by the Comic Muse, these lists she enters, And sallies forth – in quest of strange adventures! War, open war, ’gainst recreant knights declares, Nor Giant-Vice nor Windmill-Folly spares: Side-saddles Pegasus, and courts Apollo, While I, (you see!) her female Sancho, follow.

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This “female Sancho,” Mrs Mattocks, asks male authors to be humble, while a woman playwright strives to entertain. She reminds the audience that in print Lennox had often “courted your smiles” and found favour. Now Mattocks is begging for the audience’s empathy, since Lennox “still dreads the perils of the stage.”5 There was plenty for Lennox, now forty years old, to worry about. England was experiencing significant changes to the Whig party. In 1768 the country under Rockingham was quite different from what it had been when the Newcastles were the political leaders.6 These were vexing and uncertain times for all political alliances, and navigating them was treacherous for everyone involved. Political instability and probably losses from Eliza forced Lennox to look for income from new sources, and the next five years proved tumultuous. In that period, Lennox took advantage of changes in the guard in the theatre, audiences’ desire to read drama as much as watch it, and a growing interest in public women with complicated stories. Successes were followed by defeats, which were followed by intriguing calls to engage more publicly. Continuing her strategy of recycling earlier material, Lennox ventured again into playwriting for the first time since Philander. Henrietta was her most recent novelistic success, and its satiric, stage-worthy scenes meant that the novel was a natural choice to rewrite as a play. The Sister failed on the stage, but it was an enormous success in print. In these years, Lennox sustained herself and baby Harriet by strategically maintaining a middle way, one that was challenging enough to be interesting to audiences, but not political enough to be flagged as a threat. In fact, throughout her career she would continue to ask: Was England’s deep devotion to the law of custom actually foolish? To make social critique more palatable, for The Sister Lennox extracted from Henrietta a particularly humorous setting at the estate of Lady Autumn, who dresses like a fifteen-year-old and believes young men regularly fall deeply in love with her. In contrast to her novel, Lennox’s drama reversed the roles of the central sibling relationship, giving the young, intelligent sister a stronger voice and highlighting her tenuous circumstances at the whim of her self-interested brother. Changing the focus of the narrative to illustrate the potential peril the sister could face because of the self-interest of her brother was particularly timely, since at mid-century daughters were being denied inheritances because marriage ties were increasingly given precedence over blood bonds. The wife of a married son stood to gain much more than his sister.7 Thus, sisters were increasingly even greater victims than they had been in a system in which a brother was legally responsible for his sibling. The Sister’s rousing dialogue emphasizes how quickly men were forgetting about their sisters by illustrating wealthy men’s condescending attitudes not only towards women but also especially towards those with little money. Harriet, the protagonist, sarcastically calls men’s behaviour “acting upon principle” and bitterly names the problem: “It is

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not surprising that persons, who hold riches to be their greatest good, should think they are more than an equivalent for virtue.”8 Although the play criticizes those with financial advantages for their lack of morality, it does not advocate for a strident corrective in women’s favour. Rather, Harriet is able to lead her brother slowly towards a happy ending for both of them, and the play concludes with love and laughter. The Sister possessed a number of elements that should have ensured its success. In addition to the topical nature of a sibling plot, the “ingenious” Lennox was praised (in a review of the printed version of the play) for “natural, lively and elegant” dialogue as well as “incidents [which] are uncommon, yet within the pale of dramatic probability.”9 Lennox understood the need to moderate her critiques to make them agreeable for the majority of audience members. Just a year earlier, Catharine Macaulay had been satirized in Samuel Foote’s play The Devil upon Two Sticks in the character of Margaret, a proto-feminist learned woman who is made the object of ridicule.10 Through comedy, both in the classical sense of a happy ending and in its humour, Lennox’s play found a way to avoid ridicule from the likes of Foote by depicting a female character who was outspoken but not strident. Her play even inspired one reviewer to produce a tirade against any father who would insist that his child marry for money, and against any man who would wed a woman for riches rather than for love. [I]t is as absurd to suppose it a man’s duty to take a woman’s fortune whom he cannot love, because a father commands it, as to suppose it his duty, at a father’s command, to pick a pocket. No man has a right to a woman’s fortune but he that can feel for her the tender affection of a husband; and perhaps there is more baseness and more guilt in forming such an alliance, than in the violation of it.11

As this reviewer recognized, the plot of The Sister was incisively critical of current social structures that were prejudiced against women, and in another review it was accordingly described favourably, as having “refined” sentiments and “elegant” language.12 After her failed play Philander in 1758, Lennox was determined in her second attempt to find success in this highly public and potentially lucrative arena. Though she had been an actress and a Shakespeare critic, Lennox had little training in writing for the stage. She also did not have the advantage that other successful women playwrights of the era had, as they were offered help from various sources. Frances Sheridan, whose play The Discovery saw seventeen performances at Drury Lane in the 1763/4 season, had the support of her actor and theatre-manager husband, Thomas Sheridan. Frances Brooke learned playwriting by managing operas and music programs. Elizabeth Inchbald worked on the provincial stage first.

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Hannah More, Hannah Cowley, and Elizabeth Griffith were coached by David Garrick.13 Griffith’s The Double Mistake was performed fifteen times in 1766/7 at Covent Garden. In contrast, aside from Garrick’s suggestions, Lennox received little assistance. Still, she drew on her vast writing experiences, worked to refine her playwriting skills, and continued to court the powerful in the literary world so that her play would reach the largest audience. Before The Sister had even been staged, Lennox was planning for its print publication. Thus she went looking for powerful people who could aid her in gathering subscriptions. At this time, the Wilkes affair was causing problems for the current administration,14 and the Duke of Newcastle, her ally and her daughter’s namesake, had recently died.15 Lennox’s career had certainly benefited from the support of the Newcastles and the Rockinghams,16 and, just three months earlier, she had been shown royal patronage with accommodation at Somerset House granted by the queen, a sponsorship that continued for the next five years.17 This patronage, facilitated by the Duchess of Newcastle, shows that at least to some extent the court valued Lennox. At the same time, the situation was also reminiscent of that moment around the age of eighteen when she might have gone into service with the help of Lady Isabella. However, this time Lennox had a solid literary reputation, as well as a daughter who was worryingly sick. Because of the favour shown to her by the royal couple, and because of the king’s close friendship with Bute (the new prime minister), Lennox may have decided it would be a good idea to capitalize on the connection and make a request to the Bute faction for help with subscriptions for the Sister. She also may have hoped that her Scottish connection to Bute would be beneficial. In addition, she wanted to dedicate the publication to a member of the Bute faction, Lady Susanna Leveson-Gower.18 With this in mind, Lennox wrote to the wealthy Scottish land owner and MP James Murray with a plan that she pitched as a provision for her little daughter.19 The scheme was for a subscription edition and a dedication of The Sister; however, it is unclear how that would have helped Harriet Holles. Lennox asked Murray if he would talk to his wife, Catherine, or her sister, Lady Leveson-Gower, who was currently woman of the bedchamber to George III’s sister, Princess Augusta.20 Lady ­Leveson-Gower was active in helping procure advancements and was well liked. Unfortunately, the Wilkes affair was just beginning to heat up in February when Murray replied; thus, the timing was unfortunate.21 Murray ultimately declined to help Lennox and even suggested that such a dedication might not in the end benefit her because of the current political tensions. In his opinion, this petition was not worth the trouble.22 His own wife would not have been helpful, and the Gowers were part of the anti-Newcastle faction. Even though Murray declined to help secure a dedication for Lennox, he was still encouraging of her work. He insisted that “with pleasure” he would attend the performance of The Sister, “with

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Figure 12 George Colman, by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Wikimedia Commons.

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as many of my acquaintances as I can prevail upon to go,” and wished it “a favourable reception.” In the end, The Sister did not require subscription but was quite successful in print on its own merit. However, reaching that success was only due to an enormous effort on Lennox’s part. Though she had worked on The Sister during the extremely hectic years of the late 1750s and received some support from Garrick,23 she had let it sit for quite a long time. When her daughter Harriet was no longer a toddler, Lennox wrote Garrick again, about ten years after their first conversation about the play. She explained that this was a better moment for her play, particularly because she thought, or perhaps hoped, that audiences were becoming favourable towards woman playwrights. She reasoned with Garrick: “The success which has lately attended Writers for the Stage, and some of them too, of my own Sex, has encouraged me.”24 Lennox had changed the prior version of the play she had discussed with Garrick to a comedy. In her pitch to him, she took care to underscore his importance to her writing process, pointing out that she had taken a suggestion he had given her earlier, “which has furnishd me with one of the most interesting incidents in the whole piece,” and emphasizing her willingness to make whatever corrections he deemed necessary.25 However, Garrick did not act on this request, perhaps because he was about to take a leave of absence in the following season. While he was away, Lennox found an advocate in the succeeding manager, George Colman. Colman seemed to be Lennox’s entrance into a new arena. Getting one’s play performed on the stage offered the potential for greater earnings than novel writing or translation. However, she was again caught in the politics of the moment; that is, the politics of the literary world. What happened to produce the cruel damning will never be entirely clear, but the most plausible explanations involve literary politics. One detractor was the playwright Richard Cumberland,26 who saw women playwrights, in fact women in general, as potential threats. He was not only known for “spiteful behavior” but for his concern that “the market, because it was artificially limited by the patent system, could not expand indefinitely to accommodate the women who wanted to write without some eventual loss to the male incumbents.”27 Hester Thrale, who sympathized with Lennox, wrote in her diary that “his Envy [was] very hateful.” Lennox herself believed that he “made a party against” her play, and Johnson came to see that explanation as a possibility (Johnson also couldn’t understand why Cumberland despised Frances Burney).28 Although some women had succeeded, their sex was still a problem. If Cumberland was the instigator of the damning, Lennox’s play was subjected to literary forces that consciously tried to block women in order to protect established male networks. Aside from gender prejudices, several other factors may have caused problems for the premiere of The Sister. Apparently, the acting was inferior, which

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would of course have irritated the audience. The St. James’s Chronicle29 refers to The Sister as being “half-acted,” suggesting that the actors’ incompetence may have contributed to its defeat. The wife of William Powell complained of the acting too. Yet, George Colman tried to defend the actors in a letter to Lennox after the events: Some deficiencies there always are in performers at a first representation; but I still think notwithstanding my deference to Mrs. Powell’s sentiments, that if the play had been continued, it would not have been ill sustained by the Actors, whom I shall inform of your candid construction of their effort in your Service.30

Lennox was apparently quite direct with Colman about her disappointment in the actors, but this was only one of several marks against her play’s success. In addition to potential bad acting, putting on the performance in the first place was a source of contention between Colman and Garrick, the owners of the Covent Garden Theatre, who had been quarrelling for years. Colman felt it would be a success, but he did not have the support of all the other owners, and The Sister was named in a lawsuit between them.31 Critical Memoirs of the Times suggested that Colman was actually the one at fault, not preparing Lennox for the “trickery of the modern stage,” and blamed his “mere want of that foresight, for which he has been frequently complimented, of knowing what would go down with the publick.” The reviewer also remarked that, in the future, Colman should “take better care as well to order his house as to cast the parts of the drama.”32 Two main reasons for the failure of The Sister may therefore have been a bad cast and bad managerial preparation. A third possible reason that the audience may have been set against Lennox’s success was her criticism of Shakespeare in Shakespear Illustrated. Goldsmith, who supported The Sister by writing the epilogue, later claimed that her lack of respect for the literary icon precipitated the “damning.”33 Even sixteen years after the publication of Shakespear Illustrated, her irreverence may have cost her the dramatic world’s support. As discussed in chapter 5, David Garrick, a great lover of Shakespeare, had supposedly nicknamed Lennox “Mrs. Lauder,” since she attacked Shakespeare’s use of sources in what he thought was too pious and arrogant a manner – as William Lauder had attacked Milton.34 This may have also been the reason that he rejected The Sister nine years earlier. Regardless of the play’s purported offences, the Monthly Review reported that the “disapprobation d[id] not appear to be justified.”35 The Critical Review similarly begins its discussion of The Sister by explaining, “That this performance has been in the theatrical stile, damn’d on the stage, does by no means influence our judgment with regard to its merit,”36 and another declared that the play “will be

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more indulgently received at future representations.”37 Although the play’s production was a failure, it was immediately published without needing subscription or dedication. The reviewer in the Gentleman’s Magazine pointed specifically to Lennox’s strong literary reputation, which made the damning incomprehensible and the demand for the printed text strong: “She has published it without either remonstrance or complaint, and those who read it in the closet will probably wonder at its treatment on the stage, especially considering the merit and the sex of the writer.” The play’s “sentiments are just and refined,” the reviewer wrote, and Lennox’s “familiar acquaintance with the stage” offers a desirable “intermixture of light scenes.”38 Booksellers Dodsley and Davies, for their part, knew they would be foolish not to seize the moment and did not hesitate to publish The Sister just two weeks after the failed performance. A mere two weeks later, a second edition of the play was necessary.39 In total at least fifteen hundred copies had been quickly printed.40 Perhaps readers were interested in the connections between the novel and the play it inspired, but certainly the fact that it had been hissed and then favourably reviewed drew attention. After what appeared to be an enormous disaster on the stage, Lennox’s writing was on the rise again, and her work was gaining the attention of other booksellers. In the wake of the successful publication of The Sister, which was regularly being advertised by Dodsley, Thomas Lowndes took advantage of Lennox’s success to advertise Henrietta from March 1769 through June 1770,41 and at least two more times in January 1772.42 The Sister was also published in numerous other cities and languages, including Dublin (1769), Hamburg (1776), Vienna (1776), Munich (1776), Frankfurt and Leipzig (1777), Frankfurt (1778), Moscow (1788), and Hanover (1796). Lennox had made a name for herself around Europe with her previous writing, and now The Sister was also garnering attention outside of London. However, the highest critical compliment The Sister received was its long life. In 1776 the play was not only printed in Germany and Austria but was also performed in both countries. Although Lennox’s play could not get an accepting audience in England, it found numerous audiences abroad. A cast list that includes a number of characters in a Hamburg acting troupe was published in the Hamburg edition; in Gotha, Germany, a translation of the The Sister, Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl, was performed at least five times in 1776 and 1777. Also, the Munich edition mentions a performance there around 1776.43 That same year Was seyn soll was performed three times at the Imperial Royal National Theatre in Vienna.44 These shows occurred around the time of their respective publications and would have served to promote the print versions. There were likely more editions and performances in Germany, but these could not be irrefutably confirmed. However, this energy around the play indicates another way in which Lennox’s narratives reached international audiences.

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In England, dramatist John Burgoyne used Lennox’s play as the primary source for his highly acclaimed 1786 play The Heiress,45 which was reprinted ten times through 1871.46 In fact, Burgoyne declared The Sister “one of the cleverest works of its class that had appeared.”47 Burgoyne is best known for his role as a commander in the American Revolution; the failure of his operation was a significant turning point for American victory.48 Later he became an accomplished playwright who excelled on the stage with The Heiress, which was praised for its brilliant use of humour. Burgoyne was careful to pay tribute to The Sister, which was not just The Heiress’s inspiration but its blueprint. An 1823 critic said that The Heiress should “be called the last real comedy produced on the English stage,” making clear that it was, “in fact, little more than a judicious alteration of a former obscure, but by no means despicable comedy, The Sister.”49 Some audience members preferred The Heiress to Richard Sheridan’s 1777 The School for Scandal, and in contrast to Lennox’s play it “attracted vast sums of money for the east, as well as the west part of the metropolis.”50 The success of Burgoyne’s play spread all over London. Perhaps the success of The Heiress led to a reassessment of Lennox’s playwriting abilities. When Lennox was celebrated near the end of her life for her scholarly work and dramatic criticism, the play was declared to have been “written with a considerable degree of good sense and elegance.”51 Praise of The Sister continued into the 1830s, when John Genest, author of History of the English Stage, declared The Sister “well written and deserv[ing of] a better fate.”52 Also, Colman’s prologue and Goldsmith’s epilogue “received uncommon applause from the very considerable share of merit they possessed”53 and were frequently reprinted in the weeks following the play’s premiere.54 Goldsmith himself declared that the epilogue he wrote for The Sister was the best he ever composed,55 and it was “widely regarded as … one of the best Epilogues of the period.”56 Clearly, Lennox’s name and her writing held prestige, and perhaps this celebrity helped with the sale of The Sister. In the two decades leading up to its publication, she shared the limelight with only two other female novelists, Eliza Haywood and Sarah Fielding, in terms of number of editions published.57 In the same vein, the literary marketplace found it useful to invoke “Charlotte Lennox” in advertisements for new literary ventures. For instance, her once-hissed play was used to promote an anthology of the best writing of the age: just one month after The Sister was staged, Critical Memoirs of the Times: Containing a Summary View of the Popular Pursuits, Political Debates, and Literary Productions of the Present Age, Vol. IV advertised itself by listing Lennox’s play, along with “Different Views of the Present Ministry,” “An Excuse for the Mob,” and “Conversation between Mr. Wilkes and Mr. F – ,” in numerous newspapers.58 The association with the ministry, the mob, and Wilkes suggests that some booksellers, critics, and readers may

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have discerned a connection between The Sister and the political opposition. The prologue to Critical Memoirs addresses a “polished and literary age” and claims that the anthology has selected “all the real information and entertainments our public prints afford.” It names as its goal “facilitating the communications between the metropolis and most distant parts of the kingdom” and insists that it is more independent and impartial than newspapers, which are the property of interested parties. Thus this type of publication claims to be “as necessary to the reputation of individuals as to the honour of literature in general.” In addition to current information, it highlights recent literature, rather than “a medley of stale tracts,” as has been the custom. As a contribution to “the honour of literature in general,” Lennox’s The Sister was classified as valuable literature and considered worthy to sit beside such patriotic literature as Dr Joseph Warton’s “Ode to Liberty.” Not for the Tender Following the publication of The Sister in 1769, and echoing C.M.’s 1764 request that Lennox be more public, the name “Charlotte Lennox” was invoked in even more political ways, and perhaps as a potential aid in improving the current state of England. Lennox was being separated, or distinguishing herself, from the political establishment. Cut off from access to the powerful Bute faction – despite the royal housing – she may have even had a role in choosing to lend her fame and skills to the opposition. What is sure is that her name was listed with other popular authors like David Garrick, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and, most notoriously, John Wilkes in the prominent position of the title page for The New Foundling Hospital for Wit in 1769. Lennox and her contemporaries were juxtaposed with an eye-catching and provocative frontispiece59 “which mercilessly satirizes a blindfolded George III, tethered to a nose-ring, being led by his mother, who is making a sexually provocative gesture to the Prime Minister.”60 This popular and satiric miscellany, which also declared on the title page that it was “Intended for the Reception and Preservation of such Brats of Wit and Humour as Parents Chuse to Drop them,” was founded by the previous editor of the Gazetteer, the radical bookseller John Almon. Almon was now “the most successful publisher of anthologies of ‘fugitive’ works”61 and “deployed his title pages rather like a list of club members, intended to lure newcomers … in the hope of getting them to sign up for the duration.”62 Unlike earlier political parody that supported the monarchy by authors like Dryden, The New Foundling Hospital specialized in commentary that attacked the establishment during the years leading up to the American Revolution. It could be compared to today’s political satirical publication the Onion. During the 1760s, six prime ministers were deposed, and this ministerial instability “offered new hope for satirists,”

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who ultimately “helped shape the modern era: global expansion of the British empire, freedom of the press, [and] resistance to imposed taxation without representation. The causes of the American Revolution had taken root.” Liberty was on the minds of every one of its readers.63 In the case of Lennox, “The Art of Coquetry,”64 written when she was a young woman, was the chosen “brat.” In addition to his promotion of Lennox through C.M.’s poem in his earlier newspaper, Almon now with his own publication promoted Lennox’s titles. He had become a diligent campaigner for freedom of the press and was London’s premier radical bookseller. He and Lennox shared a similar childhood, as they both had Irish parents (Lennox’s mother and Almon’s father) and each faced an orphan’s plight (Almon’s parents were both dead by the time he was seven). Almon’s most significant contribution to print may have been his series of pro-colonial titles, like The Grievances of the American Colonists Examined, Justice and Necessity of Taxing the Colonies, and The Examination of Dr. Franklin, on the Subject of Repealing the American Stamp Act.65 The New Foundling Hospital for Wit was “chronologically nestled” between the Seven Years’ War (1756–63) and the American Revolution (1775–83), thrived on the “scandalous, salacious, and outrageous,”66 and could be carried in one’s pocket and perused at the pub. This “early example of exposé journalism”67 began life in Almon’s new shop at 178 Piccadilly, “which was much frequented about the middle of the day by fashionable people [and] used as a lounging place for political and literary conversation.”68 It was a twenty-minute walk from Lennox’s residence at Somerset House. As The New Foundling Hospital for Wit was enlisting Lennox’s name to promote itself, John Wilkes, whose name now symbolized liberty and whose popularity was staggering, had just returned to England after a four-year spell as a fugitive and was immediately elected as MP for Middlesex. Parliament overturned this vote and imprisoned him for two years, a decision that resulted in mob violence. However, by 1774 he was named Lord Mayor of London and then took up his rightful place as Middlesex MP. The New Foundling Hospital for Wit supported his efforts, albeit discriminately by taking in “opposition offspring which no one else wanted – or dared – to print,” and thus exposing readers to unauthorized texts, including by members of the Nonsense Club.69 This informal group, which included Colman, Charles Churchill, and Bonnell Thornton, was intent on fomenting political debate by engaging in a distinctive brand of satire that included vivid and sometimes malicious literary and theatrical battles. As we have seen, Colman and Churchill were Lennox’s supporters, and we will learn in chapter 11 about the details of the Thornton family’s significance in her career. Churchill was perhaps the most radical, having edited the opposition newspaper the North Briton, mentioned in chapter 8. Thornton was vital to Wilkes because of his work, and influence, in the press.70

Figure 13 Frontispiece of The New Foundling Hospital of Wit, part 3, 1769, in which Lennox’s name appears directly opposite this image on the title page. Here George III’s mother leads him by the nose, while making a rude gesture. Folger Shakespeare Library PR1101.A5 1768 Cage v. 3.

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As proof of Lennox’s wide-ranging influence after recasting her career, her writing was regularly anthologized in The New Foundling Hospital for Wit. Not only was Lennox in this decade recycling her work herself, but also others were now finding her words useful for their own purposes.71 “The Art of Coquetry,” for example, was altered from its original 1749 version to fit the agenda of the miscellany. Originally, the poem counselled young women in the “art” of monitoring their own emotions in order to control men. Therefore, it was an empowering poem telling women not to accept that men were naturally superior and advising that “what’s theirs by Nature may be yours by Art.” Lennox’s poem was originally written for women who value their own minds, and thus their own freedom: Not for the tender were these rules design’d, Who in their Faces show their yielding Mind: … But for the nymph who liberty can prize.

However, much had changed in the twenty-two years since Lennox had first published the poem. Britain’s power was more secure in North America, India, and part of Africa, and individual human agency was discussed frequently among politicians, philosophers, and authors. In The New Foundling Hospital for Wit, Lennox’s poem had several changes to wording, but the last line is especially important to the goals of the magazine. Lennox’s original had read, “And what they lost by Nature, gained by Love,” meaning that women, though considered inferior, at least have love as a consolation prize. In the new version, these lines make a stronger statement, “And unsubdu’d control the world by love,” pointing specifically to women’s real potential. Rather than the victim “by Nature,” she gains victory, or control, by using love.72 In addition to “The Art of Coquetry,” The New Foundling Hospital for Wit included numerous other poems from female personae and by women poets of the previous decades, including Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Elizabeth Carter, and Anne Ingram (Viscountess Irwin).73 With this authorship, The New Foundling Hospital for Wit was clearly committed to a fairer representation of women’s potential,74 and even Jane Austen is known to have read at least parts of this miscellany, as she alludes to it in her novel Emma.75 The New Foundling Hospital for Wit promoted the idea that it was conceivable for a woman to control the world, or at least not be subdued by men, which was part of a larger project to promote a society in which power was not solely in the hands of a few. In so doing it was advocating for “peace everlasting” among a population that was rallying for a greater voice in politics. Preceding Lennox’s poem was a potentially blasphemous parody of the Apostle’s Creed called “The Courtier’s Creed, Written in the Year 1731 and Never Before Printed,” which

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begins, “I believe in K.G. II, the greatest captain and wisest monarch between heaven and earth” and continues by drawing a parallel between Christ and Sir Robert Walpole, who was convicted, expelled, and imprisoned; he went down into Norfolk the third year; he came up again … and now sits at the head of the Treasury, from when he shall pay all those who vote as they are bid. I believe in Horace’s treaties, the sanctity of the bishops, the independency of the lords, the integrity of the commons; and I look for restitution from the Spaniards, discharge of the public debts, and peace everlasting.

“The Courtier’s Creed” cleverly mocks the worship of a corrupt monarchy. Placing Lennox’s poem about female independence directly after it confirms the anthology’s mission of using sharp satire to engage in the political realm. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s “A Man in Love,” which was also written about Walpole (although whether or not the editors knew this is unknown), appeared a few entries after Lennox’s poem76 and continues a message of female agency. It counsels young women on the qualities they should look for in a man who truly loves them – men who prefer to be out of the spotlight – and condemns the “false affected wit of coquets.”77 According to this poem, young women have the capacity to be wise and advocate for themselves. Lennox’s name was also invoked in The New Foundling Hospital for Wit three years later in the poem “The Petticoat Administration” by “Molly Machiavel.”78 This irreverent proposal takes its title from a modification of “turncoat administration,” implying that England would be better off if its current leadership was rejected and women set up their own government. The poem begins with an epigraph that sets the tone: “Peace, idiot man, woman shall ever rule; / How oft to her you’ve proved yourself a fool.” This anonymous poem expresses frustration with a nation run by men who are simply trying to maintain their positions at the expense of both the law and truth. In this poem, women of all walks of life are chosen for various positions. Macaulay, Lennox, and Carter, described as wiser “than any men in store,” are chosen as secretaries of state, with the implication that they would handle foreign affairs with far greater aplomb than the current appointees. It was around this time that Lennox was seen talking with Macaulay in Marylebone Gardens. Machiavel concludes with the claim that women in all the leadership positions “will calm this frantick nation.” Although this could be seen as satirical, implying that these women would make the nation even worse, the fact that their writing was promoted in The New Foundling Hospital for Wit suggests that they were the primary representatives of the English female mind. Undoubtedly women authors were considered an important asset in the radical cause, and, whether because of her own beliefs or in the interest of

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the opposition, Lennox was at the forefront of this campaign. Almon’s New Foundling Hospital for Wit ended in 1773, and from 1781 to 1784 he retired to a quieter life in Hertfordshire, living on his profits.79 However, the popularity of his miscellany lived on in reprints, revisions, and copies, and Lennox’s name advertised future editions and was regularly used until 1795.80 Perhaps because of Lennox’s presence in The New Foundling Hospital for Wit, her name continued to be invoked as representative of the opposition. The Independent Chronicle employed a character from Samuel Foote’s 1765 The Commissary and published a clear and insightful letter in which Margery Minnikin suggests a solution, which included Lennox, to “the decline of England.” She complains of “the still increasing Aristocracy interfering with elections” (as well as other problems) and that the king “has exhausted every measure which the most consummate prudence could suggest for the good of his subjects.”81 “In plain terms, the powers of the men are the worse for the wear, and must be permitted to lie fallow till such time as they are judged capable of reassuming their places.” For that reason, Minnikin concludes, His Majesty should enlist the following women, who are “unexceptionally qualified to serve their country.” Here Lennox will be secretary of state with Frances Brooke, since “[i]t is presumed they will be as careful of national secrets as they have been of their own.” The real secret to which Minnikin refers is that neither Lennox nor Brooke was subject to personal scandal, despite considerable and even controversial literary fame.82 Of course, invoking Lennox with the opposition could also have been intended to ridicule her and other women authors. A parliament of women was normally a trope used in mockery (of women, of the current parliament, or both).83 This possibility cannot entirely be ruled out. However, regardless of the intention, Lennox’s presence again attests to her pervasive celebrity. Her name had clout, and using it in a political way, even if satirically, showed her public importance. The Middle Way In a world where political liberty could easily be associated with sexual libertinism (as in Wilkes’s case), especially where women authors were concerned, Lennox’s career depended on maintaining a certain level of neutrality. Too strong a connection with excessively rebellious individuals could cost her not just her dignity and her financial security but also her ability to offer her voice to the public. Rather than take up a post in the metaphorical “Petticoat Administration” in 1771, Charlotte had another child. She and Alexander named him George, perhaps to make it eminently clear that she would not challenge the monarchy directly. It is notable that both of their children seem to be strategically named after Lennox’s most powerful patrons. When George was born, Lennox’s daughter Harriet was already six.

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In this year, seven apartments in Somerset House, where she was living and working (likely) as a housekeeper, were used by the newly founded Royal Academy, an entity that included schools, a library, and the central administration.84 Within this rich environment of resident artists and writers, Lennox could continue to write, translate, and pursue new ventures while being inspired by other like-minded people who lived there. However, when George was two years old, Lennox was forced, as she had been so many times before, to look for new housing because Somerset House was being rebuilt.85 In 1773, right in the midst of her work, with several projects half finished, homelessness threatened her, eightyear-old Harriet, and little George. Alexander, who was then working at Customs House, may not have been living with them. “Less favoured by fortune than most about her,” Lennox was, needless to say, in distress.86 One of her plans was a new illustrated edition of The Female Quixote. For this project, Lennox enlisted the help of Joshua Reynolds and the author and book editor John Hawkesworth. The portrait that Reynolds had painted of Lennox twelve years earlier could now be engraved for the frontispiece. However, this project did not go as planned. Instead of Reynolds, his assistant Cipriani painted the illustrations for this edition, and unfortunately the clothing and hairstyles were not appropriate for the period. This mistake caused a major delay. Eventually the problems were remedied and engravings were made, but despite all the effort, this edition did not appear. Still, Lennox’s name was not far from the pages of the London newspapers and the minds of their readers. She was praised for her genius, and her work was continuously anthologized.87 In August 1771, a new edition of Harriot Stuart came out with Cadell, who had taken over Andrew Millar’s business. At the same time, an abridgment of The Female Quixote appeared. In the Monthly Review, Lennox was placed among a group of women writers who had superseded the Greek muses. Lennox, now a “strong genius,” was included in the project to inspire the neoclassical in England. To Greece no more the tuneful maids belong, Nor the high honours of immortal song; To MORE, BROOKE, LENOX, AIKIN, CARTER due, To GREVILLE, GRIFFITH, WHATELEY, MONTAGU! Theirs the strong genius, theirs the voice divine; And favouring Phoebus owns the BRITISH NINE.88

Now it wasn’t just Samuel Johnson declaring her a British muse in private, but a highly regarded periodical giving her this illustrious distinction in public. And it would not be the last time that she was placed among the nine muses of Great

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Britain. This select group of women were valued contributors to Britishness, a new identity that was finally embracing the voices of both genders. As part of this new national project, Lennox’s writing was thought worthy of canonization. In 1774, her name was invoked – along with Aphra Behn, Elizabeth Griffith, Sarah and Henry Fielding, Miguel de Cervantes, Tobias Smollett, Samuel Johnson, and Oliver Goldsmith – in numerous newspapers to advertise the upcoming twelve-volume collection The British Novelist: Or, Virtue and Vice in Miniature.89 This anthology of “celebrated authors” highlighted these writers’ ability to “engage the attention, interest the passions, warm the imagination, improve the understanding and amend the heart.” A more marketable ninety-page version of Lennox’s The Female Quixote was published in volume 2. Also published in this multi-volume anthology were Roderick Random, David Simple, Joseph Andrews, Pamela, Peregrine Pickle, Amelia, Sir Charles Grandison, and Clarissa. Lennox’s parody of Cervantes’ classic picaresque novel, Don Quixote, was placed alongside the abridgment of Alain-René Lesage’s Gil Blas, which was completed in 1735 and considered by some to be the most recent masterpiece of the picaresque genre.90 Publishing Lennox’s novel with Lesage’s showed that England had joined ranks culturally with France and Spain and suggested that an English author not only dominated the seventeenth-century picaresque form but gave its disjointed tales the eighteenth-century improvement of narrative continuity. This abbreviated version of The Female Quixote was produced again as a standalone publication three years later by the Paternoster Row (1774–5) and Fleet Street (1775–6) bookseller R. Snagg. This time Lennox’s popular novel was in a format that suggested an audience of children and indicated the value of the title for education.91 Snagg published a slate of titles similar to those appearing in The British Novelist. This abridgment of The Female Quixote, which quickly went into a second edition, is largely a plot summary and likely not done by Lennox.92 Dialogue is omitted, along with long histories and discourses. However, Lennox’s ironic tone, nuanced criticism of her society, and subtle allusions to the inconsistencies within established “truth” are still evident. The narrative focuses on the arbitrary nature of societal expectations for young women, but also prepares them to cope. At the end of the novel, Arabella is admired not for having changed her mind – as Lennox’s novel suggested – but rather for her “good sense and inlarged notions.” This abridgment remained an important text at least into the next decade. It was advertised five years later in a more elegant edition, which included “an entire new set of cuts, from designs done on purpose,” that was promoted as “a valuable present … for the youth of both sexes” to be used for their “instruction and entertainment.” What made these reduced narratives valuable was how they offered “curious, comical, diverting, pleasing, humorous, surprising, and remarkable histories and adventures” for a growing audience of readers.93 Lennox’s novel

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was thus not only canonized but was also thought a treasured story for boys and girls. Yet although we see here another example of how Lennox’s works were valued, she earned no income for most of them. She lived in a bookseller’s market. While she might glory in fame, Lennox would struggle to earn a modest income only if she kept writing and publishing in the strategic formats of the period. “A Flexible Mind” Establishing an English canon was a crucial aspect of nation building, and by all accounts Lennox was ideally suited to promote particularly English interests. At the same time, she needed monetary compensation for her service. The primary theme in Lennox’s writing was the complexity of women’s experiences, and specifically the pressures placed on young women, regardless of their national context. Lennox’s own life was complicated not only by financial and familial stresses but also by health problems. As we have seen, she struggled with eye difficulties; and at some point she was also afflicted by smallpox and had evident pits in her face in 1772.94 Lennox’s appreciation of how women’s lives were minefields was evident in the next project that was coming to fruition: a biography and translation of Meditations and Penitential Prayers by the charming and intelligent Duchess de La Vallière, Louise de La Vallière (Françoise Louise de La Baume Le Blanc, 1644–1710). Needless to say, Lennox hoped this would prove profitable for her. Given her literary reputation and her long relationship with James Dodsley, he gave her a ten-pound advance.95 This current project, published in 1774, was not a financial arrangement with Alexander, such as she had made eight years earlier when the same trio published Eliza.96 Perhaps Lennox was not living with him anymore, and she may have used this advance to move with her two children to 14a Great Tower Hill Street on the corner of Muscovey Court, off Trinity Square, where they lived for several years. This area was surrounded by East India Company warehouses, and America Square was just a few streets away. Lennox, now in her forties and the mother of two children, had a vast amount of life experience to draw on. Her interest in La Vallière may have stemmed from the fact that the latter was also a mother and a public woman who from a young age had not been able to avoid being drawn into politics. In Meditations,97 which was advertised with Eliza when it was published, Lennox provided the first English translation of a work by an even more famous mistress of Louis XIV. Like Madame de Maintenon, the Duchess de La Vallière entered her affair with the king as a virgin and ultimately expressed deep repentance. The significant difference was that La Vallière was a young woman when the relationship began, while Maintenon was around forty years old.98 Lennox did

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not blame Maintenon for being a mistress, and she resists shaming La Vallière as well. Instead, she explores their plights as vulnerable women seduced by royalty, and the theme of power relationships is again interesting to her. In addition to her work on La Vallière and Maintenon, Lennox had published biographies of regal sixteenth-century mistresses in the Lady’s Museum: Gabrielle D’Estrées, mistress to Henry IV, and Bianca Capello, mistress to Archduke Francesco de Medici. Lennox believed that these women’s stories needed wider, more kind-hearted attention. It was a particularly propitious moment for publishing a sympathetic biography combined with the religious meditations of a young mistress of the seventeenth-century king: in 1774, Louis XVI, who had reportedly only recently consummated his marriage with his wife of three years, was just taking the throne. In a period of deep conflict with France, Dodsley may have seen an opportunity for high sales by amusing English readers with the sexual faults of the past French king, whose reforms were thought to have established the modern French state. Lennox for her part may have taken the opportunity to tell her version of the story of a young, seduced woman. Lennox’s beliefs about cultivating the intellects of young women were shared by other tough-minded, but more conventional, women. By the mid-1770s even the Bluestockings had become more open to the idea of publishing their works, but only in traditional genres. Hester Chapone and Elizabeth Montagu were perhaps influenced by the message of the Lady’s Museum and ventured to put their thoughts about women’s education into print. Though they scorned novel writing and the stories of mistresses, they were motivated to educate young women who were close to them, in this case Chapone’s niece, under the guise of a conduct book. Chapone dedicated her educational treatise Letters on the Improvement of the Mind; Addressed to a Lady (1773)99 to Elizabeth Montagu. Many of the chapters were devoted to typical conduct-book topics, such as “On the Regulation of the Heart and Affections” and “On Politeness and Accomplishments.” However, the last two chapters delved into matters of the mind, “On Geography and Chronology” and “On the Manner and Course of Reading History.” Chapone’s conclusion echoes ideas promoted in the Lady’s Museum, suggesting that young women must learn material that will benefit society. She wrote in her dedication to Montagu – who must have countenanced the dedication, thus endorsing its message – that women should develop “a candid and liberal way of thinking. A mind well informed in the various pursuits which interest mankind, and the influence of such pursuits on their happiness.” Their learning would not only “improve the public” but would also serve the young woman’s well-being and her ideas, since a more open mind would make her happy. Thus, when she was forty-five, Lennox’s ideas were being embraced by more traditional members of society. These ideas are also explored in the Meditations,

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which consider important aspects of a woman’s life: study, writing, and independent thinking. Lennox highlights these qualities of mind in a thirty-threepage biography of La Vallière that introduces her translation. According to Lennox’s biography, La Vallière wrote Meditations after the drama of her life had subsided. Louis XIV’s mistress for six years (1661–7), La Vallière repented and retired to a Carmelite convent where she was celebrated for her piety.100 By studying Lennox’s own narration of La Vallière’s life, we see Lennox directly intervening in the project of giving women’s lives equal importance to men’s. In choosing to highlight the unique value of learning about this heroine and the unjust cards stacked against her, Lennox shows how a woman’s innocence can in fact result in her disgrace. La Vallière’s early life was not unlike Lennox’s: their fathers were both officers whose early deaths changed the course of their lives dramatically. In both cases, by happenstance and because of a lack of financial resources, they were put forward as maids to princesses. La Vallière’s story must have made Charlotte wonder what this life would have been like for her. Instead of Charlotte’s experiences with and rejection of the English court, Louise became a maid and was catapulted at the age of sixteen into the French courtly world. In spite of the fact that Louise was not self-interested, nor a flirt, she and Louis fell in love. She also was a loyal friend. However, these bonds did not protect her from the betrayal of a supposedly devoted friend, Madame de Montespan, who usurped her as mistress to Louis XIV. He ended their relationship by granting Louise the title of duchess, legitimizing their daughter, and giving her the estate of Vaujours. To Louise these “honours” felt like insults, a kind of retirement present given to a loyal servant.101 She was forced to be a screen against the rumours of an intimate relationship between Louis XIV and Montespan until Louise finally convinced the court to allow her to retreat to a convent, where she behaved gracefully later in life towards both Montespan and the queen, who had always hated her. In order to hold up a female as a model citizen effectively, Lennox knew that she had to emphasize typical feminine qualities. Thus, she began her biography by describing La Vallière’s modesty, humility, and determination not to get politically involved. Yet Lennox also emphasized the need for female heroes, and her biography was written to evoke sympathy for La Vallière’s unfortunate situation. She pointed out that La Vallière’s naivety was actually her downfall: “Lulled into security by the innocence of her own thoughts, she strove not to repress this growing inclination. He was the only object of her meditations, the only subject of her conversation; – she praised him with the enthusiasm of a lover, yet thought she only spake of him as every other person did or ought to.” To reinforce the fact that Louise’s fate was almost entirely out of her hands, Lennox quotes Voltaire, who calls Louise’s downfall “eminent.”102

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Lennox showed the fundamental flaws in this relationship, explaining how the unequal union between the lower-class Louise and the royal Louis contributed to the problem. Also, he was attracted to her because she loved him so purely, but he continued the relationship out of spite against his mother’s wishes. Thus, the very quality that their societies held up as valuable – submission determined by gender and class – was the characteristic that precipitated her downfall. Still, since Louis XIV was already married, La Vallière felt remorse from the beginning. Even as she was a victim of the circumstances of low status and financial insecurity, Lennox points to La Vallière’s “wit, tenderness and bewitching grace” that contributed to her “flexible mind.” It was her intelligence that helped her “find resources” from the most unexpected place, passion. La Vallière’s love for Louis XIV was sincere, but his for her was not sustainable. Lennox illustrates the painful shift in their relationship by citing her directly: “Formerly he came himself to fetch me, now I go to him.”103 Her passion for him dissipated as she realized that he was no longer fully devoted to her. Instead, she took control of her emotions and channelled her feelings for Louis into an ardour for God. She renounced “several splendid” marriage proposals, and Lennox describes how she resolved that “God alone should fill up that place in her heart which the King had so long possessed.”104 Fortunately, retreating to a convent was the most socially acceptable way to escape this cruel environment. Lennox shows how the encouraging words of a friar, who told her that one day she would edify the world, would change her life. “God, who at first seemed but slightly to touch her heart, rewarded her obedience to those faint motions of his grace, by giving them at length power enough to triumph over all the allurements of sin.”105 Encouraging words about her own potential had given her the strength to stand up for herself. Soon after, La Vallière became dangerously ill and finally had to face her predicament. Lennox provides the tongue-in-cheek observation, “she had leisure to perceive the probable inefficacy of a death-bed repentance; and deeply vowed, if a little life was lent her, to employ it wholly in acts of penitence.”106 As we have seen, Lennox often dodged religion, but here we witness her God expecting action, not idle assertions of belief. Her heroines do not behave in the overly melodramatic way of French romances, but prove their sincerity through their deeds. Lennox strongly emphasizes Louise’s humility and how suffering in the convent gave her peace. She also specifically points out the need for equal moral judgment among men and women by invoking a favourite story. If the biblical hero David’s proud and lustful crime can be forgiven, so can Louise’s. Lennox was a master at illustrating how women’s lives were not just complicated, but deep and sustained trials that needed to be overcome. Working within the establishment, yet finding a way to maintain one’s own values and survive, was essential. That is, for Lennox an independent mind and a flexible mind were

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synonymous. Lennox was all too familiar with how often women faced no-win propositions and simply had to make the best of circumstances that could only end in societal judgment and misery. But at least she would take action. Lennox lived out her belief in action rather than victimhood. By avoiding any severe violations of the laws of custom, she proved that a savvy author, even a female author, could challenge her readers, show them where foolishness lay, and provide a new voice to comment on age-old concerns. Personally, she knew this path between Scylla and Charybdis far too well. In slowing her pace, reformatting her original works, and timing her publications for their particular cultural moment, she shrewdly negotiated the new political climate, maintained a challenging level of societal critique, and continued to see her career and reputation flourish. Proof of her success, along this carefully crafted middle way, although not in the form of a stable income, came by way of her status as a celebrity, a status that was far from foolish. It was the way she could continue to promote her ideas, and it was entirely welcomed.

Chapter Ten

“Work upon That Now!” Ages 45–51 1774–80

Flattery is always mean; but to flatter folly, is, in my opinion, criminal. (Henrietta, 176)

For Lennox and for the literary marketplace, 1774 was a momentous year. On the heels of La Vallière’s Meditations, she promoted the value of action in the midst of impossibility in concrete ways. This year was also pivotal in the history of English ideas. Foment against England that would spark the American Revolution was at its peak, John Wesley published his argument against slavery, and highwaymen robbed the prime minister.1 The common man was slowly rising up in protest against unjust class and status hierarchies. It was also the year that forever changed the relationship between booksellers and authors, who would profit now more directly from their labour. Although Lennox had twelve publications to her name at the beginning of this year2 and had experienced a great deal of success, she was discouraged. Philander had never seen an audience, and five years had passed since the Covent Garden débâcle with The Sister. Despair about her potential for success on the stage had taken hold of her. She wrote, “having once faild … my self, and several others whose judgment I relied on more than my own, I am grown diffident, so diffident that if I have any genius, I dare not trust it.”3 She longed for the thrill of pleasing an audience, but the damning of her play had shaken her confidence. In addition, the reality of having no rights to her work made the effort of composition seem too great for the little return she might receive. As soon as her copy was sold to a bookseller, she lost all rights to it. This situation is best exemplified in a 1769 transaction between booksellers Thomas Lowndes and Andrew Millar over her Henrietta, where Lowndes bought a one-third share of the novel for two pounds five shillings and sixpence. With this sale, he would have

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the right to reprint it, and “if it is sold to any other person it shall be on the same conditions.”4 Lennox herself would receive no remuneration. The reality that she had no rights as an author, along with her growing self-doubt, meant that she was even more reluctant to attempt producing another title. However, an important legal decision in 1774 altered Lennox’s outlook and motivated her to embark on new projects. This decision was a triumph for authors throughout England, as now they could make a living more easily. On 22 February 1774, Donaldson v. Becket allowed that “an author of any book or literary composition, had the sole right of first printing and publishing the same for sale and might bring an action against any person who printed, published, and sold the same, without his consent.” After much debate, this decision had been made to “rescue the cause of literature and authorship from a few monopolizing booksellers.”5 As Lord Camden, who had a deep contempt for booksellers, succinctly said: “Knowledge has no value or use for the solitary owner: to be enjoyed it must be communicated.”6 This new copyright law was a giant step for intellectual property rights and is thought to have also resulted in literature becoming more affordable. This new-found independence duly animated Lennox. The change gave her ownership of all ten of her works published prior to the Lady’s Museum.7 Before this, booksellers paid authors an initial sum for their copy, while the author herself gave up all rights to her work. Thus the bookseller earned the profits from sales of the book, reprints, and new editions. With the Donaldson v. Becket decision, which more strongly enforced the idea that “an individual’s ‘person’ was his own property,”8 authors were allowed greater agency with their own products in that copyright reverted to them after fourteen years, allowing them to renegotiate terms for successful works. In this situation, Lennox was in effect released from her “slavery to the booksellers” and could embrace her literary career more fully because she was more in control of the earning potential of her works. At the same time, Alexander was finally earning a steadier income at the Custom House, perhaps for the first time. For three years now, Lennox had been receiving mail at the same address, Great Tower Hill, Muscovey Court, across the street from the Tower of London and about a block away from the Custom House.9 From here we have evidence of her writing legal documents related to her work to James Dodsley, suggesting that she, rather than her husband, managed her literary income.10 At forty-five, mother to ten-year-old Harriet and three-year-old George, Lennox did not have to retreat into an entirely domestic existence; emboldened by the legal situation, she embarked on her literary career with renewed vigour. Animated by Donaldson v. Becket, Lennox engaged in a wide range of literary activities in the second half of the 1770s that demonstrated her interest in

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becoming independent and in embracing her own agency as an author. As she now stood to profit from republication of her earlier works, she not only pursued publication of a luxury edition of The Female Quixote but also sought to publish the works she was most proud of under one title, The Original Works of Charlotte Lennox. She also advocated more strongly for reprints and translations of her works in Edinburgh, France, and Germany. Pursuing Profit Lennox wrote to friends explaining that the new legal situation would allow her to publish a New and Elegant Edition, Enlarged and Corrected, of The Original Works of Mrs. Charlotte Lennox.11 Her friend and supporter Samuel Johnson drafted the proposal to solicit subscriptions and bring this idea to life early in 1775.12 Another old friend, Joshua Reynolds, socialized with her13 and expressed sympathy for her earlier difficulties, writing in May 1775 to show his support of a reprint of The Female Quixote, as well as Original Works. To emphasize his enthusiasm for Lennox’s literary career, Reynolds offered his generous services. He knew others had set out to help her, and he hoped to contribute to her career in any way that “lyes within my province.”14 Although Reynolds allowed Lennox to use his portrait of her for the frontispiece of Original Works,15 neither the Original Works nor the edition of The Female Quixote ever came to fruition. As the subscription proposal details, Original Works was projected to be three large quarto volumes, on fine paper. Reynolds would design the frontispiece from his portrait of Lennox, and Francesco Bartolozzi, one of the most important engravers living in London, would engrave it. These lavish volumes would include The Female Quixote, Shakespear Illustrated, Henrietta, Sophia, Eliza, The Sister, Philander, “and other pieces never before printed”16 and would thus emphasize Lennox’s wide-ranging abilities as novelist, dramatist, and critic.17 Samuel Johnson was extending his friendship and his influence by crafting a proposal for this subscription publication, in which he emphasized both the popularity of Lennox’s works and a sense of financial justice. He emphasized that Lennox had been unfairly treated and not properly remunerated by the booksellers, and his argument appealed to subscribers’ integrity, implying that they were able to remedy this injustice. Johnson tried to forestall any accusations that Lennox was publishing merely to gain fame and fortune, writing, “She hopes, therefore, that she shall not be considered as too indulgent to Vanity, or too studious of Interest, if, from the Labour which has hitherto been chiefly gainful to others, she endeavors to obtain at last some Profit for herself and her Children.” The proposal assured potential subscribers of the requisite selflessness and humility in a female author

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and noted that the new copyright act would make it possible for this elegant collection of her works to redeem the injustice of the past and finally allow Lennox to provide adequately for her children.18 The prospect of renewed independence, combined with the possibility of economic gain, meant that Lennox was eager to see the subscription edition of Original Works succeed. She had “been advised by my friends to publish proposals for a Subscription,”19 and an advertisement promoting it appeared in at least five newspapers between late February and March 1775.20 The proposal was also distributed beyond the London audience to Oxford, Cambridge, Bath, Dublin, and Edinburgh. According to one source, Thomas Percy, Lennox’s friend and the chaplain to George III, had a copy of the proposals in his papers.21 In addition to friends and acquaintances, Lennox seems to have reached out further, soliciting subscriptions from individuals with whom she had not previously been in contact. For instance, she appealed to Dr William Hunter, a Scottish obstetrician, the queen’s personal physician, and an author himself. She wrote that she hoped he would promote her new venture “among [his] acquaintance.”22 Whether Hunter ever responded to her letter is unknown. Lennox did have the support of Queen Charlotte, to whom the edition would be dedicated, and she was again animated by this royal support, knowing that subscribers, whom she, perhaps disparagingly, referred to as “the vain and the gay,”23 would be proud to be in the company of Her Majesty. Although her friends encouraged this venture, her attempt at a subscription edition in 1775 did not succeed. Although many women still did it, Lennox was perceived to be badgering her friends. Apart from the complicating developments in literary publishing, personal matters may also have played a role. Dustin Griffin points out that Hester Thrale claimed that “nobody liked her” and wonders if this supposed dislike might explain Lennox’s difficulties with securing subscribers.24 Lennox had an abundance of literary friends, and she also had a prickly side. Still, she clearly was savvy at negotiations during her long career. One begins to wonder if in 1775 anyone knew the successful formula for book publication. The books that became bestsellers seemed to have a good measure of luck on their side. Perhaps Lennox’s experience is simply evidence of the uncertain times for authors. Johnson did not seem to understand her concerns. Several months into the project, in May 1775, he reminded her not to allow anxiety to get the best of her. “[T]oo much eagerness defeats itself,” he points out. This suggests that some of Lennox’s potential subscribers had complained to Johnson that she was putting too much pressure on them. In the same letter, he urged her to consider that “by telling your friends how much you expect from them you discourage them, for they finding themselves unequal to your expectation, will rather do nothing

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and be quiet, than do their utmost, and yet not please.”25 Johnson acts as an honest friend, knowing that even he would have difficulty finding people from whom he could request money. He also notes another latent problem for Lennox. Questions had been raised among these would-be subscribers about her religious conduct. Johnson explains: “Your powers are acknowledged, and your character must be respected, if it be not that by some indecencies with respect to religion, of which I have heard complaints.”26 Perhaps Lennox was not attending church, or perhaps she was speaking more openly against church doctrines. Whatever the case, Johnson reminded Lennox of a fact of which she was already painfully aware: her public identity was an essential part of her literary career. Johnson was not alone in his support of Lennox. As a matter of fact, he had written at the behest of Alexander, who hoped she would stop “desist[ing]” and “despair[ing].”27 This is the third time we see Lennox’s husband showing support for his wife’s writing. Sensing that she would ignore his certainty about her eminence and esteemed character, Johnson repeated his belief in her literary abilities: “Once more, I think you will succeed.” While Johnson was wrong regarding the success of Original Works, which never moved beyond the proposal stage, his prediction of her success was prophetic, though not with the project about which he was thinking. Fortunately, Lennox succeeded to such an “eminent degree” with her next endeavour that she was able to become more independent and establish herself as a permanent fixture in the minds of the London literati. Back to the Stage Lennox’s good fortune and an acknowledgment of her “powers” came by way of a significant figure who in the past had been a great source of discouragement: David Garrick. Now, Lennox tried her luck once again as a playwright, although the stage may have seemed a foolish venue to pursue. She had been deemed a very bad actress in The Mourning Bride, her first play Philander had never made it to the stage, and The Sister had been rejected on the first night. However, perhaps because of newly affirmed authorial rights and the prospect of real profit, perhaps because she wanted to be publicly engaged, or perhaps because twenty-seven years of experience had helped her better understand the climate of the theatre, she proceeded energetically. Lennox knew that Garrick sought a big hit, a play that already had the benefit of a famous dramatic name. Successfully reinvigorating a well-worn story had a greater chance of success. Indeed, although there was still disappointment ahead, Lennox’s return to the stage ultimately reignited her literary career. In selecting her next literary project, Lennox was apparently thinking of political and international concerns. She first proposed adapting Racine’s Bajazet, a

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play set in the Ottoman Empire and glorified by the French as central to their national superiority. In pitching this idea to Garrick, she shamelessly appealed to his literary skill (or vanity). The first line of her letter to him on 4 August 1774 praised him for being “so good a critick in the French drama.” Lennox noted that, in her “own humble opinion” and that of “all good judges,” Bajazet was “one of the best of [Racine’s] tragedies.” However, she would not just do a word-for-word translation of it. Instead, she proposed “hazarding a few alterations [to] adapt it to the taste of an english audience.”28 Racine was to France what Shakespeare was becoming to England. Since Garrick was a big proponent of Shakespeare, this was a wise route. Before writing to Garrick, Lennox plotted her own version of Bajazet. She had translated some of it and proposed specific alterations in the fifth act because it “is not busy enough for our taste.” She explained to Garrick that she would radically revise the first act “by one of those sudden revolutions common enough in the turkish government” and put Bajazet on the throne, rather than allow him to be murdered. Lennox was employing an orientalist stereotype rather than responding to actual historical events,29 since each of the four Ottoman sultans between 1730 and 1789 came into power through regular succession and reigned until his natural death. As for the heroine Roxana, Lennox was not inclined to kill her off. However, “if the general plan of the play makes it necessary,” she intended to make her death “more affecting.” Thus her goal was to inspire more “terror and pity” in the audience, “which are not found in the original.”30 This time, she thought, her critique of a national hero would certainly be praised – since that hero was French. In hindsight, Lennox’s project seems either remarkably brave or ignorant. For one, she does not seem to have been aware of the fact that there were earlier translations of the play into English.31 Second, the persistent popularity of Nicholas Rowe’s 1701 Tamerlane, in which Louis XIV is denounced as Bajazet, may have meant that staging Lennox’s translation of Bajazet would have invoked too direct a reference to Rowe’s play, which had been used as an argument for William III’s war with France. Also, Lennox’s choice is surprising given the play’s unique qualities. The 1991 English translator, Alan Hollinghurst, calls Racine “a famously intractable author to bring into English,” and Bajazet specifically is the “most complex and unusual play,” owing in part to its verse-form – the alexandrine couplet – which was Racine’s usual metre and “has no ready equivalent” in English. Hollinghurst continues, “the static, concentrated austerity of his neo-classicism is bewilderingly alien to English taste and tradition.”32 However, Lennox may have pursued Bajazet anyway simply because the name Racine would have been easily recognized by London audiences. Similarly, she tried to capitalize on celebrity culture to make her project a success. Garrick

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believed that the playwright should choose the actors,33 and indeed Lennox had a particular actress for the part of Roxana “in my eye in every line that I translated.” “The haughty, the impassion’d, the beautyful Roxana, seems drawn expressly for” Mrs Yates, Lennox explained. Mary Ann Yates, Lennox’s friend,34 was a popular actress at Drury Lane. “She is in her look, and acting the very image of the poet’s thought,” and Lennox told Garrick that she always maintained that Mrs Yates was “superior” to “her theatric rival, Mrs Barry.”35 To demonstrate how serious she was, Lennox included a second letter, either strategically or because she had additional thoughts. In it she denounced any “flight[s] of flattery” that Yates might assume from reading her first letter to Garrick. Lennox proclaimed that, though she might not always “[follow] the rules of politeness,” she saw herself as a “bold, and daring schismatic” and claimed her “own reputation for candour, which I do not think I have yet forefeited” and that her life was one of “habitual sincerity.” “When I praise it is with warmth and a kind of enthusiasm, such is my natural temper … I mean what I say.”36 She wanted to be eminently clear that she was not afraid to admit her passionate personality, or her literary ambition. With her signature audacious approach, Lennox sent her translation of Bajazet to Garrick and asked him to “give it a reading, and if you think it may be made fit for representation, I will be guided by your advice in every alteration to be made in it.” She also declared that Mrs Yates would “alone ensure its success.”37 And in another letter responding to Garrick’s invitation to visit him at his home at the Adelphi (a short walk from her residence at Somerset), she reminded him that she was not so headstrong as to refuse his help: … you wrong me if you suppose I did not take pains – it is true I depended upon your assistance – you permitted me to do so, and I well know how easy it is for you to make that piece as pleasing as any we have had for a long time – I am not indifferent to theatrical rewards; could I obtain them …38

Lennox often took this tone of both utter confidence and calculating deference with Garrick, the manager of one of only two theatres in London.39 However, despite her efforts, her Bajazet was not staged. Although Garrick thought the play “so beautiful and enchanting to read,” he might have discouraged Lennox because he thought it so full of dialogue that it “leaves the actor nothing to do.”40 This failure was particularly hard on Lennox, perhaps because it confirmed her inadequacy in the theatre. Although The Sister had had such a mixed reception, she had actually been satisfied with the play itself, but now experiencing the rejection of those she trusted and meeting compounding failures were taking their toll. Although Lennox was not afraid to admit her ambition, at least in some circles, she still realized how being an ambitious and independent woman could embarrass her.

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When Bajazet was shelved, Lennox again resorted to invoking her poverty and need to support her children in her appeal to Garrick for support, as it “would assist me to bring up my little boy, and my girl.”41 Even in the midst of this depression, her mind imagined a possible future as a well-regarded author of a play. Her new plan was another adaptation of a seventeenth-century play, also by a renowned (though English) writer. This play was Eastward Ho, written by Ben Jonson, along with George Chapman and John Marston, and first performed in London in 1605. Ben Jonson was almost as important as Shakespeare as an English national literary hero, and Eastward Ho was considered “one of the most sparkling comedies of the age.”42 This city comedy centres on William Touchstone and his two apprentices, the rash and ambitious Francis Quicksilver and the dutiful and loyal Golding. The didactic prodigal son story ends when Golding, who becomes a city alderman, pardons Quicksilver after he serves jail time and repents of his opportunistic crimes.43 On its original production, the play “caused something of a sensation”44 because the authors were accused of writing a satire against the Scots,45 and Jonson and Chapman were arrested and thrown into prison in London. In addition to invoking the tension between England and Scotland, the play “may have been an indictment against greedy, drunken, unprincipled [American] colonizers,”46 as it satirized two inebriated characters who put in place an elaborate deception to get enough money to sail to the New World. When Lennox told Garrick that she intended to appeal to the “taste of an english audience,”47 she was expressing a desire to make a play, designed for a Renaissance English audience, timely and provocative to 1775 London theatregoers. Lennox had been attempting to stage a play with Garrick for seventeen years, and finally he agreed, in part because it was his idea. In the 1740s Garrick had developed an interest in Eastward Ho. Robert Dodsley “altered” it in 1744, and Garrick had that alteration performed in 1751 on Lord Mayor’s Day.48 Garrick considered the play to be highly moral49 and perhaps also saw it as a dramatization of Hogarth’s extremely successful satirical print series Industry and Idleness, which appeared just four years before Dodsley’s version and featured the outline of the Eastward Ho plot in twelve images. In both plays, as well as in Hogarth’s prints, Golding becomes a partner with his master/employer, Touchstone, and Quicksilver – along with his ne’er-do-well partners in crime, including Sir Petronel Flash – ends up in a tempest on the seas and ultimately in jail. There Quicksilver’s fate is determined by the good apprentice, now the mayor. Dodsley’s prologue indicated that “decency” had “moralize[d] the Scenes.” It also suggested that the language had been cleaned up and characters made to behave in a more civilized manner: “Here’s no loose Jargon now, no ill-bred Sneer.”50 In fact, Dodsley only slightly modified the play, and it was not successful on Garrick’s stage.51 According to “Wilkinson,” likely the actor-manager Tate Wilkinson, this performance was not

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liked at all, and it was “driven off the stage.”52 However, Garrick must have kept Eastward Ho in the back of his mind, realizing that it needed careful adaptation in order to be successful. Lennox’s Old City Manners presented a similar plot, though it simultaneously constituted a parody of the past and a celebration of better days to come. It also added a few characters, offered more nuanced analyses of their actions, and gave an altered conclusion, with the objective of addressing an audience who were beginning to be aware of fundamental debates about the responsibility of individuals in their society. This adaptation engaged with individuals acting in society more directly and emphasized the importance of personal responsibility. The play rejected birth as an indicator of personal value and highlighted status based on meritorious behaviour instead. Lennox had the attention of Garrick, and she was confident in her ability to turn this early modern narrative into a play that would appeal to a 1770s London audience and earn greater accolades than Dodsley’s version. However, she knew that in order to have a voice in her society, she needed to be clever. Whether Eastward Ho was chosen by Garrick or by Lennox, adapting a successful and respected literary masterpiece that inspired the audience’s historical imagination was strategic. Lennox, a woman with no formal education, could again illustrate her intellectual engagement with national identity. Unlike Robert Dodsley, Lennox did not simply “moralize” Eastward Ho; instead, while retaining most of the narrative, she incisively inserted a social agenda into her own critical adaptation, which she titled Old City Manners. Lennox’s adaptation reveals her interest not only in her own country but in international issues. In indirect ways, she critiques the effects of British oppression, and the subjection of women, by inserting into her work themes of personal responsibility, citizenship, and economic independence for everyone, male and female. She even went so far as to hint at support for the independence of the American colonies. As we saw in chapter 6, in a pre-modern world translation and adaptation were part and parcel of what it meant to be an author. In fact, the work of translating and adapting was held in higher regard in the eighteenth century than it is now, and it was often considered a “true” labour of authorship.53 Professionals regularly took on projects originally written by others, and, even in court rulings, translators and abridgers, whose efforts required invention, learning, and judgment, were considered authors, with the same rights as authors of new works. However, as literary history has progressed and originality has come to the fore, the skill of adaptation, much like translation, has been denigrated. It is not uncommon for readers to assume that adaptation is an inferior form of authorship, a more passive, less creative, derivative endeavor. Real authors write original works, the story goes, while hack authors adapt. This attitude may be born out of an “anxiety of influence” with which we imagine all authors are troubled by their forebears.

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Yet, even today, the act of altering another’s narrative is not infrequently seen as a useful litmus test of a writer’s skill, and a successful alteration can be taken as a sign that the author should be considered “mature.” Consider contemporary rewritings of Greek drama and Shakespeare, such as Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad and Jeanette Winterson’s A Winter’s Tale.54 Rather than induce anxiety, source works are often seen as fonts of inspiration. Their narratives in some ways promote further creativity in their successors, as they attempt to bring a narrative designed for one particular cultural and historical moment into a new moment with different values, interests, and obsessions. In fact, an author in some ways reveals herself through adaptation.55 As we have seen in Shakespear Illustrated, Lennox had strong opinions about originality. Her critique was that in Shakespeare’s case, he did not give due credit. Instead he declared his plays his own. For Lennox, the fact that she fully acknowledged her source material – the playbill put Ben Jonson’s name front and centre – gave her the credibility that Shakespeare lacked. Changing the title of the play from Eastward Ho to Old City Manners marks the beginning of Lennox’s engagement with these debates. The 1605 title mocks the opportunistic desires of the slothful and pretentious, who thought going east56 into the English Channel and towards foreign lands that the British were beginning to occupy and plunder would bring them massive wealth. Lennox’s title, on the other hand, suggests a play that studies, and thus critiques, the traditional behaviours and beliefs of the City of London itself. She shifts the audience’s expectations away from the misguided idea of leaving London to make their fortune, and towards a reflection on the behaviour of its citizens. What could London be if Londoners were more sincere, not so caught up in self-interest? The title Old City Manners encourages her audience to meditate on how Londoners should live. In effect, it asks (and then answers) the question, “What is good citizenship?” At the same time, Lennox herself struggled with where the artist could be found within an adaptation. In The Female Quixote, she too had borrowed from another author. Her narrative was a recreation of Cervantes’ Don Quixote, but it centred on a female reading protagonist, who did not have the liberty, like the Don, to travel the countryside. Arabella’s reading causes her troubles within the walls of her own home and gives Lennox the opportunity to demonstrate the intellectual, not simply the physical, constraints her society imposed on women. Thus, The Female Quixote nods to the idea of quixotism, but then radically transforms the Quixote story in numerous ways. In her next work, she had risked censure from a literary world that revered Shakespeare by criticizing him for blatantly appropriating his predecessors’ plots. However, Lennox was not a hypocrite. Unlike Shakespeare, she had borrowed only the basic premise from her Spanish predecessor, rather than use his story as if it were her own, and her title acknowledged her debt.

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Twenty-three years had passed since Lennox had made these accusations against Shakespeare, and in the meantime she had become a prolific adaptor and translator – and even a scholar herself of translation and adaptation. She aptly called Old City Manners an “alteration,” a more modern term to signal her thoughtful method. In her version, the majority of the storyline remains as in the original, and she makes light changes to phrases, wording, and occasionally to full lines and scenes and only deviates in a few plot details. However, her adjustments reveal patterns, issues to which she clearly felt allegiance. When her play was published it even announced itself as an “alteration”: “It is with great satisfaction that Mrs. Lennox, takes this opportunity to acknowledge her obligations to Mr. Garrick, for recommending to her the Alteration of Eastward Hoe.”57 By noting the word “alteration” as if it were part of the title, this advertisement indicates that Lennox was not hiding her use of another’s narrative. The original title, Eastward Ho, invoked “the Thames waterman’s cry of ‘Eastward Ho!’” which had a double meaning. The term had become synonymous with pursuing favour at court, since during the spring of the year it was staged, London was full of “would-be gallants flocking to the court of James I.”58 In the play, the potential gallant Quicksilver takes up “the cry, and likewise the ambition: ‘I’ll to the Court, another manner of place for maintenance, I hope, than the silly City!’”59 But the term “Eastward Ho!” also alluded to Quicksilver and his partner in crime Flash’s failed plan to go west to Virginia,60 which ends with them getting shipwrecked on the Isle of Dogs, east down the Thames.61 Touchstone, “the spokesperson for medieval order, hard work, thrift, and honesty … pillars which support the just society”62 and father of dutiful Mildred and selfish Gertrude, whom the apprentices pair up with, notes, “‘Eastward Ho’ will make you go Westward Ho!”63 Sailing down the Thames meant leaving England behind, in Quicksilver and Flash’s case on a journey to the New World. But the gallows of Tyburn were at the western end of the city, and thus their overreaching might result in a grim fate. Eastward Ho thus emphasizes the perils of ambition. Lennox was interested in improving what was on offer in the theatre, and a message about the liabilities of aspiration did not satisfy her own belief system or the atmosphere on the streets of England in the 1770s. In Greek Theatre, the Earl of Cork and Orrery had referred to “old plays” in the preface, which appealed to “the primitive dramatic taste” of earlier audiences. He prophetically referred specifically to Ben Jonson and his “ancient dramatic barbarism [which] revived with double force of ribaldry and absurdities.” Orrery explained that that “age loved nonsense, grave, formal, canting nonsense … Thus was chaos come again, and universal darkness reigned over the stage, til the restoration of Charles the Second.” Today, he explains:

Plate 1 Young Charlotte’s first view of America. “A View of Fort George with the City of New York from the Southwest,” possibly by William Burgis, 1764. Albany Institute of History and Art, 1995.30.8.

Plate 2 The city of Albany around the time that young Charlotte lived there. “Plan of the City of Albany about 1770,” after Robert Yates, 1800. Albany Institute of History and Art, MAP 7d.

Plate 3 Lennox’s “The Birthday Ode to the Princess of Wales” was written in 1750 in honour of Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, Princess of Wales. By Charles Phillips, c. 1736. National Portrait Gallery, London.

Plate 4 Samuel Johnson was Lennox’s friend for over thirty-seven years. By James Barry, c. 1778–80. National Portrait Gallery, London.

Plate 5 “Old Somerset House from the River Thames.” Lennox’s residence from 1768 to 1773 with her daughter and son while she wrote. Later, in 1779, the painting “The Nine Living Muses of Great Britain,” which featured Lennox, would be displayed here. By Canaletto. Dickinson Gallery, London and New York, Public Domain.

Plate 6 Catharine Macaulay was a friend to Lennox, was also critical of social norms, and may have publically encouraged Lennox to keep writing. By Robert Edge Pine, c. 1775. National Portrait Gallery, London.

Plate 7 Comparable scene in London on the day Old City Manners debuted. “Westminster Bridge from the North on Lord Mayor’s Day, 1746–47,” by Canaletto.

Plate 8 Painting best known as “The Nine Living Muses of Great Britain.” Lennox appears on the right with a lute. “Portraits in the Characters of the Muses in Temple of Apollo,” by Richard Samuel, 1779. National Portrait Gallery, London.

Plate 9 “James Boswell and His Family,” who were friends of Lennox near the end of her life. By Henry Singleton. Scottish National Portrait Gallery

Plate 10 Bennet Langton, a loyal friend to Lennox at the end of her life. By Johann Zoffany. Samuel Johnson Birthplace Museum.

Plate 11 Lennox’s poem was featured at the base of the statue of Linneaus at the beginning of New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linneaus, 1807. Her poem reads: “All animated Nature owns my sway; / Earth, Sea, and Air, my potent laws obey: / And thou, divine LINNEAUS! trac’d my Reign / O’er Trees, and Plants, and Flora’s beauteous Train, / Prov’d them obedient to my soft Controul. / And gaily breathe their aromatic soul./Charlotte Lennox.” “Aesculapius, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus,” by James Caldwall, after John Opie. New York Public Library.

Plate 12 Lennox is also invoked in “Cupid Inspiring the Plants with Love,” which included the first four lines of the poem from “Aesculapius, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus,” at the bottom of the image. By T. Burke, after P. Reinagle, 1805. From New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linneaus, 1807. New York Public Library.

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Our chief want is genteel, sensible, modern comedy… [Yet] most, if not all, of our comedies are indelicate to a degree that reflects shame rather than honour on our nation. Let the booths of Bartholomew-fair abound with low wit, trite jests, and vulgar thoughts; but let the regular, the royal theatres be patterns of delicacy, elegance, and ease. Comedy is a mirror in which the prevailing characters of the age are represented to the view. It may be considered an expressive historical picture of the manners of the times, and becomes as valuable from the just resemblance, as from the colouring.

That is, in 1759 Orrery was calling for a new form of theatre that was valued because it enriched audiences, and Lennox responded in turn. She represented the English more accurately, offering nuance through a more refined retelling of a seventeenth-century story. But Orrery was also critical of the current mode of sensibility: “Exaggerated distress leaves a melancholy impression upon the mind, and seldom excites those fine transient emotions that spring from compassion and generous humanity.” In that respect, Lennox was particularly interested in giving a “picture of the manners of the times” that invoked on the stage a more useful image of humanity. Again, Lennox was part of a national project of improvement. Invoking an earlier age also allowed her to subvert it for her moment in history. Altering for Independence Garrick was pleased enough with Lennox’s adaptation that he was finally willing to take a risk on one of her plays. Old City Manners was performed for the first time at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane on 9 November 1775. The plot itself was quite familiar to an eighteenth-century audience, and similar themes about the value of hard work, disruptive gallants, and the temptations of quick financial gain were still in vogue. However, Lennox’s alteration made the comedy more satirical than the original or even Dodsley’s version. In that vein, the prologue – once again supplied by George Colman – suggests that Lennox, who was well known for her humour, and William Hogarth shared a talent for “glean[ing], the comic stubble of the moral scene /… turn[ing] ridicule ’gainst folly, fraud, and pride / [and fighting] with humour’s lance on virtue’s side.”64 Colman connected Lennox with this visual master, who was well known for his ability to instruct and delight simultaneously in his satirical scenes of London life. This prologue also hints at the way in which Lennox adapts Eastward Ho, changing it from a play that encourages economic prudence to one that more strongly highlights personal merit and excoriates the “folly, fraud, and pride” of the individual. The timing of the performance of Old City Manners was one of its more remarkable features. The premiere took place on a particularly political occasion,

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Figure 14 Playbill for the debut night of Old City Manners, 9 November 1775. The Huntington Library, San Marino, California, Campbell Collection, Drury Lane 1775–6.

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the annual Lord Mayor’s Day, an ancient event designed to formally introduce the new London mayor to the king. In the eighteenth century this event included a parade replete with fanfare. This year, 1775, the “urban radical”65 John Sawbridge, Catharine Macaulay’s brother, was replacing John Wilkes as mayor; Wilkes was then ally and leader in the opposition to war with the American colonies. During her manic work mode in 1758, Lennox had imagined sitting down at the Lord Mayor’s Banquet, which occurred the Monday after the parade. However, she compared this meal of the elite to reading an excellent book. Hers was an intellectual world, where power lay in commentary about events of national, and personal, importance. It would have been difficult for Lennox not to have been thinking of this politically tense atmosphere under Wilkes’s leadership, with thoughts of the moment he would be succeeded, as she modernized the play. Also, one cannot help wondering if Catharine Macaulay had played any role in helping Old City Manners to the stage. In his prologue, Colman, who had remained loyal to Lennox after the failure of The Sister, pointed to her innovation, noting the old-fashioned practice of having only boys perform on the stage, which had been usurped by female actors more suitable to playing women’s roles. As Colman said, not only could women now act on the stage but also a woman was improving on eminent male authors such as Chapman, Jonson, and Marston. He noted, “Their sketch by time, perhaps, impair’d too much, / A female hand has ventured to retouch.”66 Colman also suggested that Lennox’s work was essential to making Old City Manners speak to an audience who was daily witnessing growing opposition to English government at home and rumblings of a potential American revolution. Lennox was not just altering but updating Eastward Ho in significant ways. One critic described the goal of the play as “a review of the city manners in Charles the Second’s days and those of George III.”67 By drawing a comparison with the period of the Restoration, Lennox satirized the present and imagined the new by “rubbing off the rust of antiquity.”68 Her version was far more streamlined, sentences and entire scenes were synthesized, the overall pace was improved, money references were adjusted for inflation, and a number of long songs were omitted. Lennox offered a kinder treatment of women in the marriage market by condensing a long and convoluted passage to two short independent clauses. In this early scene, Mildred’s father Touchstone describes her to Golding, a potential suitor. In Eastward Ho the long passage makes her appearance seem very unattractive, but Lennox’s alteration becomes “thou art sensible, she is modest.”69 In addition, Lennox pays greater attention to the staging by moving the action to more domestic spaces, perhaps in an effort to create a more intimate story. Rather than four characters “sitting on either side of the stall” in Goldsmith’s Row, a parlour becomes the scene in which Touchstone rebukes Quicksilver for his drunkenness and then

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proceeds to grant Golding his “freedom, and with thy freedom my daughter” and a generous dowry.70 In act 2, instead of situating illegal deals in front of the old usurer Security’s house, Lennox moves them to a room inside it.71 This domestication of the drama also invokes a stronger sense of individual interiority, a strategy that Lennox had employed in her novels. In adjusting this play for her audience, Lennox altered the original slapstick tone to one that was more ironic or sarcastic. One example is when Gertrude requests that someone hit her so that she looks as if she is blushing when she first meets her pseudo-gallant suitor Flash. Lennox changes this violent suggestion to a subtler, more humorous scene that parodies sentimental fiction, in which Gertrude immediately refers to Flash as her knight and instead tries to will herself to blush, as she “ought,” but finds that she cannot: “Oh! that I could but blush a little.”72 A long banter in Eastward Ho that emphasizes Quicksilver’s drunkenness is omitted, while the reality of his being inebriated is still made perfectly clear.73 In another instance Lennox turns a long string of Touchstone’s taunts at Flash into a dry one-liner in which the superficial Flash boastfully proclaims that his imprudence always wins over wisdom: “Go on Sir – where folly is triumphant, wisdom is silent.”74 This comedic shift suggests a more sophisticated kind of humour, one that appeals more to the intellect of the audience. Despite Lennox’s sardonic tone, she tempered vulgar language and omitted numerous instances of sexual innuendo. For example, rather than call Mr Touchstone an “ass,” Mrs Touchstone only calls him a “fool,” and Golding’s accusation of Quicksilver’s “whore hunting” is entirely deleted,75 while Quicksilver’s supposed keeping a “whore” becomes more tastefully a “mistress.”76 Lennox entirely expurgates Gertrude’s suggestion that she and Flash “play at Baboon in the country,”77 as well as Touchstone’s graphic references to the “nuptial night.”78 Lennox’s updating and tempering is what might be expected of an “adaptation.” However, these more superficial modifications appear not to have satisfied her, since she also made changes that allude to deeper ideological leanings. Most importantly, Lennox’s alterations examined how individuals functioned within the state and promoted a society where the rule of law was ultimately vested in the people rather than in the monarchy. This slow but fundamental shift towards more democratic ideals “made it possible to imagine a non-empire: a single people sovereign over a single empire.”79 Historian James Bradley notes that in the 1770s “the populace increasingly turned to such unsanctioned and potentially seditious forms of protest as the public petition.”80 Asserting independence and taking personal responsibility was an increasingly important topic in the London streets. Paul Langford claims that in this decade “English liberty had migrated away from England and across the Atlantic, leaving behind it only monumental hypocrisy to conceal its absence.”81

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Lennox seems to be responding to this hypocrisy. Specifically, she inserted into her adaptation ideas about early conceptions of meritocracy. Three significant plot changes point to Lennox’s interest in such ideas: adding a meritorious character, modifying the criteria for redemption, and revising the dramatic order to prove the merit of another character. The notion of merit-based civil service originated in China, which imported the concept to Mughal India in the seventeenth century and then to Europe in the eighteenth century.82 In a meritocratic system, reward or advancement is given based on personal qualities, including intelligence and work ethic, rather than on class privilege or wealth. These kernels of a new way of imagining governance were a reaction against a monarchical regime that had the power to impart “rights,” and they suggested a new concept of citizenship. Competently serving one’s country was later part of the impetus for Thomas Paine83 and Thomas Spence.84 As early as 1775, Spence advocated for “the rights of man” in England and preceded the now more famous Paine. This set the stage for the Napoleonic code, established in 1804, which was the first modern legal code that had a pan-European range and constituted a fundamental change in the civil law system throughout the world. It prohibited privileging birth, wealth, or status in favour of merit and was ultimately secular in nature. While Lennox was writing before these momentous developments in civil society, her alterations to Old City Manners in 1775 embodied the ideas that enabled such changes decades later. Her deviations encouraged human agency and personal responsibility, including women’s agency. In line with these beliefs, her more secular play encouraged insightful and egalitarian justice over simplistic mercy. Lennox’s insertion of Fig, the honest grocer, marks a distinct change in the thrust of the play as a whole, as he is an honourable character introduced in the first act to represent the merchant class. Unfortunately, Fig, a highly meritorious man, genuinely loves Gertrude, who for her part values a society in which birth and social status matter. The cruel manner in which Gertrude rejects Fig demonstrates her base character in complex ways. Not only is she obsessed with marrying for status and for money, but in Lennox’s version she has in front of her an ideal mate, someone who reveres her and will offer her true friendship. However, she cannot see these qualities and is intensely cruel to Fig, thus revealing her character to be not only greedy and superficial but also malicious. She detests him because he is a tradesman like her father rather than an aristocrat like Flash, the suitor she plans on marrying. She even admits to being aware of her illogical nature and considers it entertaining: “They say fine ladies always laugh at the men that love them.”85 Lennox’s first song in the play has Gertrude sing to Fig, in a mocking tone that deplores his fate of “ill-requited love.”

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While you, in most pathetic strain, Of ill-requited love complain, Your fate I thus deplore; If lovers could on pity live, That alms with liberal hand I’d give, But Damon ask no more!86

Here Gertrude alludes to the hierarchy that dominates her life, one that “liberal[ly] gives alms to the pitiful” while simultaneously “deplor[ing]” them. This short song powerfully emphasizes how disgusting “old city manners” – which care more about status and wealth than individual value – actually are.87 Fig’s existence in the play raises the bar of good behaviour and increases the audience’s condemnation of bad behaviour even more. In contrast to the honourable Fig, Lennox adjusts Flash’s fate, choosing not to redeem him. In Eastward Ho, Flash is light-hearted in a way that is entertaining, but in Old City Manners he is a more despicable character from the beginning of the story. Later it is discovered that he has a secret wife. In Eastward Ho, Flash becomes part of the mercy narrative, being let off the hook and allowed to stay with Gertrude, who seems to overlook his bad choices for the sake of her own position and wealth. However, Lennox does not tolerate rakes and thus leaves him unredeemed. To further punish Gertrude for her rejection of the virtuous Fig, Lennox does not allow her the pleasure of a mate. Thus, Lennox’s conclusion offers a clear message that personal responsibility will win out over preordained position. Quicksilver, the idle apprentice, is the character who is now allowed to be redeemed. However, this only comes because Lennox inserts unguarded moments as proof. The last scene of the play takes place in the prison. While Eastward Ho breezes quickly through Quicksilver’s repentant attitude and describes him as expecting to be forgiven, Old City Manners paints a picture of a humbled Quicksilver who expects to suffer for his sins. Only by happenstance is he discovered to be truly repentant. Lennox begins the scene with Golding overhearing the turnkey talk about how the contrite Quicksilver has proven he has reformed because he has no hope of living and has given away all of his fine clothes to other prisoners, a clear sign of his rejection of the material world. Lennox also inserts scenes in which Touchstone overhears Quicksilver. This emphasizes Quicksilver’s sincerity and worthiness to be forgiven, while Eastward Ho highlights his inability to discern. Lennox also adds the dramatic touch of inspiring sympathy when Touchstone accidently catches a glimpse of a “wretched creature” whom he barely recognizes and who he later discovers is Quicksilver.88 In this instance of eavesdropping, Quicksilver admits that he “deserv[es] to suffer.”89

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The most poignant moment of Quicksilver’s contrition is when he reads his poem to Bramble, a lawyer. In Eastward Ho, this poem confirms Quicksilver’s shame; however, in Old City Manners remorse cannot be proven without penance. Lennox first demonstrates Quicksilver’s sincere regret by having him read the poem in which he admits to the “fatal” consequences of his mistakes while thinking Touchstone is not nearby. “The simplicity of these poor verses will shew; but to those, for whose use they are design’d, they will be good enough, if they paint my vices, and the fatal consequences of them.”90 He does not expect his poem actually to gain him forgiveness. Indeed, Lennox changed the last two lines to emphasize how Quicksilver finds wisdom and accepts personal responsibility and the need for a society that rewards merit, not factors of birth. A patent dismissal of social status over honourable action is confirmed with an exchange that Lennox adds between Flash and Golding. Flash claims that his appearance and his status as a knight should caution a constable against condemning him. Golding’s reply emphasizes Lennox’s meritocractic theme: “Justice is blind to appearance.”91 According to Golding, as well as to the play as a whole, being a knight does not excuse him from good behaviour. Lennox’s attention to honourable action and justice extends to the women in the play as well. Just like men, they are fairly rewarded and punished depending on their behaviour. The two primary female characters in the play are Gertrude and her sister Mildred. Lennox notes Gertrude’s lack of wisdom when her father adds this characteristic to his sarcastic praise of his errant daughter.92 Here, he is overtly pointing out that she is not being wise in her pursuit of a life that sacrifices those who love her for title and riches. As much as Gertrude is impetuous and selfish, Mildred is temperate and generous and shows her own alliance with the ideology of meritocracy when she suggests that many will think that marrying a tradesman is not natural, but that she will not “blush” to do so.93 Her father in Eastward Ho describes Mildred as having “a modest humility and comely soberness.” However, in Old City Manners the list of descriptors begins with “wise” and is followed by “gentle” and “humble.” “Comely soberness” is omitted entirely, and Mildred’s humility does not require the added emphasis of being “modest.”94 Old City Manners is thus casting a much stronger, and less gendered, Mildred. Free of modesty, she verbalizes her resistance to societal judgment and demonstrates the courage to do the right thing. Lennox’s emphasis on merit over birth also suggests that gender, a result of birth, should not sideline a person. For example, she omits crass talk about ordering women around,95 which would not fit with the more proactive role of women in her version. To reflect better the growing belief that women should be able to choose their own husbands, Golding explains to Mildred his hope that she and her father will both consent to his marrying her: “Might I but hope that your father

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and you would vouchsafe to bless me immediately with your hand …”96 To reinforce Mildred’s agency, only Golding explicitly submits to Touchstone, whereas in the original version Mildred also joined in this promise.97 And Lennox’s Golding is also interested more in her emotional well-being and less in her social position: “I cannot make you great but I will make you happy – your contentment shall ever be the end of all my endeavours.”98 In Eastward Ho, he promises that he’ll work hard so that she “shall want nothing fit for your birth and education.” This exchange further illustrates Mildred’s intelligence in choosing such a wise man who values happiness over materialism. Gertrude, the selfish and superficial daughter, is the obvious foil to Mildred. In the conclusion of Eastward Ho, she blames her mother for not stopping her from marrying a corrupt man.99 She prays for Flash, who ends up asking her father’s forgiveness. In turn, he asks and receives Gertrude’s forgiveness too. Although she has been harsh with her mother, her last words are a request for forgiveness only from her father, ignoring the possibility that her mother also deserves an apology. Lennox omits Gertrude’s mistreatment of her mother and the prayer for Flash. She does not use prayer as a solution, but instead Gertrude acts. Lennox deepens the sincerity of Gertrude’s request for forgiveness by accentuating her father’s kindness; “my offence was greater than that of your prentice; I sinn’d against a father, yet you forgave me.”100 Not only is Gertrude more genuinely repentant, but she also learns from her mistakes. This is clear when she is thrilled to hear that Flash has another wife, exclaiming, “Another wife! Then I am free – Oh! sister … how shall I thank thee for this good news.”101 However, even in Lennox’s alteration, Gertrude has not reformed to the extent of her sister, Mildred. Fig and Mildred strive to be economically independent – one of Lennox’s most cherished values. In contrast, Gertrude will not accept the possibility – even when it is presented – of supporting herself financially. In this rare literary instance, a female character is given suggestions about what an unmarried woman can do to earn an income. Gertrude’s waiting woman Syndefy, in an effort in fact to defy sin, comforts her with offers from her old acquaintances for employment. “One offer’d to employ you as a mantua-maker, if you wou’d learn the business – another said, you might gain a pretty livelihood by washing point laces, and she wou’d recommend you to customers; and a third – ”102 But Gertrude interrupts with, Ah! no more of this – I am justly punish’d, I confess – I wou’d be a Lady, but I am not the only tradesman’s daughter who is born with that appetite – many in the city have the same longing, I believe – What is now to be done? Shall I sue humbly to my sister Golding for protection, and live a dependant upon her bounty? that sister whose decent manners and modest ambition I despis’d – Ah! Syn. Syn. pride, as I just now read in a book, is ever producing its mortifying contrary.103

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In Lennox’s version, Gertrude is not willing to stoop to manual labour or to depend on her sister, who aspires to a satisfying life without glamour. She considers Flash’s betrayal enough of a punishment. Being a “tradesman’s daughter” has given her “city” “appetites” that cannot be satisfied with the income of a mantua-maker or by washing point laces. Lennox’s dishonourable characters are not simply confined to class, but also to strict gender expectations. Lennox alters her play in ways that promote a loosening of these gender and class boundaries, restrictions that had led to greater corruption and inferior living conditions for the majority of citizens. If humans, even women, can have agency, then they must also accept the consequences of their acts. Individual responsibility was a theme in Lennox’s own life, as she was not able to rely on her parents or her husband to provide for her. In fact, it must have resonated with her interest in gaining the rights for her publications. She underlines this theme by inserting a song sung by Gertrude.104 The audience knows that she will soon be betrayed by Flash, but she is still celebrating the “blind chance” of meeting him and shirking economic responsibility for herself. All she hopes is to be transformed from a “citizen” to someone with a title. Now from trade, dust, and smoke, Which the citizens choak, To fresh air, and new titles I’ll hie, Tho’ blind chance plac’d me here, To a still higher sphere, My genius has feathers to fly. Then I indeed shall be bless’d, Shall be flatter’d, caress’d, And out of the sound of Bow’bell. Your servant, my lady! A chair for my lady! I hope that your ladyship’s well! Then good-bye to papa, To sister – mama, And all the good friends of Cheapside; For the mind truly great, Will spring up to its state, Upborne by the spirit of pride! This, this is indeed to be bless’d, To be flatter’d, caress’d, &c.105

This satirical song emphasizes Gertrude’s vapid character as she boasts of her “genius” and her “mind truly great.” Lennox mocks the religious idea of being

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“blessed,” since Gertrude sees it as synonymous with being “flatter’d” and “caress’d.” The audience knows that her refusal to accept responsibility, a sign of lack of intelligence, has led her into Flash’s trap. Her pride, veiled as God’s blessing, will only bring about her destruction. Thus, Old City Manners highlights punishment for those who deserve it and insists on strict judgment for those who are not contrite. It endorses frugality, sobriety, industry, and simplicity. In addition, Lennox also advocates mercy for the genuinely penitent. After Quicksilver proves his heartfelt repentance, Golding says to him, “Now, Sir, you act like yourself. We should try and judge a criminal indeed with impartial strictness, but penitence, if it is sincere, tho’ it ought not to alter the balance, may stop the sword of Justice.”106 The sober penitent proves his merit. An American Subtext In promoting incipient ideas of meritocracy through her adaptation of Eastward Ho into Old City Manners, Lennox also spoke to highly political and international concerns. In fact, hers was an innovative way of engaging with politics. In 1775 only 10 per cent of the population were entitled to vote, so in her marginalization from the political process she was not unlike most men of the period. The kind of distance necessary to evaluate her own society, and in fact be publicly critical as a woman, had in part been motivated by Lennox’s interest in societies unlike her own. Three years living in Albany and Schenectady between the ages of ten and thirteen had enabled her to question the strict class boundaries still controlling English society. Social reform, a concern displayed in her first and last novels through large sections devoted to American settings, had settled deeply into her imagination, and thus critiques of English manners were inevitable. Two weeks after Old City Manners was performed, an “American correspondent” complained in the London newspaper the Public Advertiser107 about the indecorous behaviour he witnessed among the “rebel colonists.” The criticism centred on those given positions because of birth, not merit, who then abused their power. The list was long. Priests frequented places of public diversion in masquerade. Judges practised the “mean Arts of stock-jobbing.” Senators destroyed villages by pulling down small cottages and renting out the land to wealthy farmers. “Representatives of the people” ignored taxes, which might ruin whole colonies. Justices of the peace were in league with gamblers and “gained fortunes by nocturnal indulgences to riot, lust, and unlawful gaming clubs, whose members are persons above the vulgar, but not above the law.” This correspondent explained that the result of this behaviour was that “an innumerable host of tradesmen and mechanics, the would-be fine gentlemen of the town, who ape their superiors,

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politely turn the frugality, sobriety, industry and simplicity of old city manners out of doors” (italics mine). This correspondent was disgusted with the behaviour of those who should have taken personal responsibility but instead were simply acting out of self-interest and their own financial gain. To this American correspondent, “old city manners” – frugality, sobriety, industry, and simplicity – had been corrupted. Priests began the list of people in high positions, obtained by either birth or social connections, who didn’t take personal responsibility for their actions or experience any repercussions from their irresponsible behaviour. In fact, they modelled bad citizenship. The term “old city manners” was not common in eighteenth-century London print.108 The timing of its invocation, just fifteen days after the performance of Lennox’s play, and the shared critique of the abhorrent behaviour of those who were born into occupations rather than earning them is striking. There is no evidence that Lennox wrote this letter, yet the description of unsavoury behaviour of the British on American soil, while invoking her term “old city manners,” could reveal her sympathy for the cause of the American Revolution. Lennox’s personal experiences in America, the setting of the two novels that bookend her career, indicate a thoughtful interest in the colonies’ fate. The letter’s introduction explains: “a correspondent gives the following picture of a certain Mother Country and desires some able hand would delineate that of her Rebel Colonists.” This Public Advertiser correspondent is asking, rhetorically, how the “rebels” are any different from the English and uses “old city manners” to invoke a romanticized past. People in high positions (usually by birth) are not taking responsibility in their positions of power. Lennox’s critique might be best demonstrated by looking at how she entirely changes the final moments of Old City Manners to engage her audience with their own agency. This conclusion suggests more thoughtful and honourable individual pursuits. The last lines of Eastward Ho presented the moral of this early seventeenth-century play quite clearly: that is, repentance allows for mercy. The virtuous and honest Touchstone accepted the miraculous conversion of the fraudulent and deceptive Quicksilver in a manner that one scholar criticized as “ridiculous [and] childishly naïve.”109 Touchstone’s last words in Eastward Ho were, Thou hast thy wish. Now, London, look about, And in this moral see thy glass run out: Behold the careful father, thrifty son, The solemn deeds, which each of us have done; The usurer punish’d, and from fall so steep The prodigal child reclaim’d, and the lost sheep.

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The ending summarizes the moral in relation to each character’s role in the narrative and invokes religious language, the prodigal son and the lost sheep, to make its point. People are bound by a natural order. In discarding the prodigal son story and the sheep metaphor, Lennox rejects this final conclusion, subverting the didactic message of Eastward Ho. In line with incipient notions of meritocracy, birth is replaced with merit and the religious becomes secular. In the same vein, Lennox advocates justice over mercy. Where Jonson and company ask their audiences at the end of the play simply to “behold” the character and actions, Lennox is more specific. Life is about choices – make your own way towards disgrace or well-regarded status. Lennox’s adaptations, underlined by this conclusion, diminish the controlling hand of fate in order to highlight individual agency and disregard religion. As in a glass, let citizens this day, Behold the plot, and moral of our play; See the two ways, which lead to shame or state, Chuse Ruin or fair fame – work upon that!

The play is thus a mirror, a glass, held up to the audience. Lennox has “worked upon” Eastward Ho in such a way that it is a more incisive reflection of current society, in part by altering the frequently repeated phrase “Work upon that now,” which in Eastward Ho was a sort of mantra. It continually signalled to the audience “Think about this!” but, surprisingly, the play did not end with this refrain. Lennox drastically reduces the number of times this phrase appears throughout the play, and instead concentrates its import by using it as the final phrase. By ending her adaptation with Touchstone’s epilogue, concluding with “work upon that!” Lennox changes the subject in the imperative “Work!” Rather than characters throwing the phrase back and forth between themselves, Lennox emphasizes that “citizens,” the audience, must choose, just as she has done. They should not just think, but act. Status is awarded not by birth, blood, loyalty, or land, but by individual right action. Lennox drives home the point then that the audience should act rather than accept their fate. Audiences praised Old City Manners. On opening night it “received the greatest applause,” and Lennox was again noted not only for her literary prowess but also her popularity: “a Lady well known as a favourite attendant in the train of the muses.”110 At least nine performances over two seasons111 and strong reviews prove that the play was a success. It was judged “very much improved” and an “entertaining and well-constructed comedy.”112 Lennox’s vexed twenty-nine-year relationship with the theatre – failed actress, rejected playwright, and hissed play – ultimately ended in a hit. Dogged persistence, her own version of “work upon

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that!” paid off, as she earned at least eighty-four pounds for this play, and probably takings on both the sixth and ninth performances as well.113 Although she had experienced numerous setbacks, she finally was distinguished on the stage and rewarded for it significantly. In response to this success, the daughter of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Mary Stuart, Countess of Bute, wrote just five days after the first performance to congratulate Lennox on her success and confirm her own eagerness to be associated with Lennox’s future work, proclaiming that she “wou’d be Glad to be of any service” to Lennox. She assumed that Old City Manners would be printed, as successful plays usually were, and hoped that Lennox would send her a copy when it came out.114 This support from the Bute faction was a notable shift from 1769, when Lennox failed in her attempt to get Bute’s support for the publication of The Sister. Even George III apparently agreed that Lennox had proven herself as a playwright: in addition to owning her highly regarded translation of Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully, he would end up owning all of her plays.115 For an audience sensing changing notions of individual agency and how these ideas might be contributing to the tensions between England and America, Lennox made relevant a play crafted nearly two centuries earlier. The letter from the “American Correspondent” shows that at least somewhere in the political discourse of the day people were encouraged to think in the same terms that Old City Manners set out to explore. What we see is not just Lennox’s agency in adapting this classic text, but that her efforts were attuned to both British and American concerns and show her even greater sustained lifetime interest in America. By addressing a national concern, Lennox spoke to a wider audience than critics have previously given her credit for. As an adaptor, and thus more covertly than traditional authorship would allow, Lennox publicly promoted personal responsibility, reward only for meritorious action, and economic independence. These concepts add up to the incipient notions of meritocracy that would shape not only England’s future but the future of much of the Western world. A Muse for the Nation Meritocracy not only resonated on a national level but also spoke specifically to Lennox’s experience. Lennox’s writing about individual agency was not simply an idea she promoted, but a belief born out of mistreatment, not being adequately valued for her ideas and her labour. Lennox and her contemporary Sarah Scott strongly disagreed on women’s role in society. Scott valued philanthropic work but criticized women’s involvement in political causes, for example the French Revolution:

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We must indeed be the maddest of all people to aim at innovations; yet there are numbers who are extravagant in their praises of the conduct of the French. Some even Women, who I suppose envy the glory of the Poissardes [market women]. They make me wicked, for I wish to send them to Paris, tho’ I think it must be rather a worse place than les Enfers. That sounds less offensive to polite ears than the English name, by being less familiar to us.116

Scott is confused by women who “aim at innovations.” She does not approve of the fact that the English, “even women,” glorify women’s contribution to the March on Versailles. She is so offended by this veneration of a new way of being that she suggests that those who believe such things should be sent immediately to France, a place even worse than hell. Lennox, in contrast, was not content with the present state of affairs. She had developed her own set of values that relied on financial independence. Philanthropic work was for women who did not have to labour for their bread. While Lennox was not a free agent in terms of literary property, she still advocated for herself. Alexander had been promoted to one of nineteen Deputy King’s Tidewaiters, but Lennox was not relying on his income.117 Instead, she was taking advantage of the new situation, specifically “The late decision with regard to literary property,” which she celebrated for “having given me a right to reprint my original writings for the benefit of myself and my children.”118 She had begun trying to publish Original Works in February of 1775, nine months before Old City Manners first premiered, and she was still “working upon” the rights to her works two years later in 1777. Although her titles were still Alexander’s property, she took action for her own benefit. She wrote on her husband’s behalf, indicating that he had given her free rein to pursue whatever she considered proper: “Mr Lennox is so desirous of recovering his property out of the hands of the booksellers, that he gives me leave to take any measures that shall be judgd proper.”119 Sometimes, on the other hand, he seems to have made the decisions: for instance, “Mr. Lennox thinks a hundred and fifty Copies [of Original Works] will be sufficient,”120 as Charlotte asserts in a letter to Johnson. Of course, since she was such an active manager of her own career, it is possible that this was just a formal way of saying that this is the decision that they had made, or perhaps she had decided that it was best to assert herself under her husband’s name. Also, it is possible that she published Old City Manners with Thomas Becket because booksellers Millar, Newbery, and Dodsley were refusing to release her titles, even though she had worked with Dodsley for twenty years. In 1776, Lennox still had ideas of a large print run of Original Works, and she was ready to enlist a printer, with Samuel Johnson assisting her. She urged Johnson to speak with William Strahan: “it is of great consequence to me to have

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[Original Works] presented to Her Majesty, before I am quite forgot, the sooner you begin to treat with Mr. Strahan the better.”121 Even after she had earned a good income for Old City Manners, she was still determined to be appreciated as a gifted author. Agitation in the the newspapers indicates that either Lennox or her friends were “laboring hard”122 to accuse Hannah Cowley of plagiarizing Lennox’s The Sister and Henrietta in her play The Runaway, which appeared at Drury Lane on 15 February 1776. Five days later at Bedford Coffee-house, an “A.B.” wrote a detailed explanation of the suspicious similarities between Henrietta and The Runaway123 and promised proof with “the same clearness” that The Sister “has furnished the Runaway with character, humour, and incident.” These reservations were advanced when a Dublin theatre advertised The Runaway as being written by “the celebrated Mrs Lennox.” Soon after, “B.A.” wrote a long piece reporting that Cowley claimed she had never read either of Lennox’s works and that “A.B.” was clearly “well aquainted with the art of puffing,” which would benefit Lennox’s recent attempt at Original Works and was thus an admirable marketing scheme.124 Whether or not there is any truth to these accusations cannot be known; however, this degree of attention in the newspapers is in line with Lennox’s striving character and strong stomach for public notice. Lennox not only sought attention for her work but also fought for justice with the booksellers. However, she was still meeting with difficulty. The 1774 copyright decision had given her rights, but it was still not easy to be given justice. By 1777, Lennox pursued the aid of Arthur Murphy, an Irish playwright, journalist, and lawyer who was involved in the copyright case three years earlier. Conflict came to a head over repeated reprintings of Sully, from which she was receiving no profit. In 1778, Dodsley, Millar, and Shropshire were set to publish another reprinting – the fifth edition. They had already profited from a second edition in 1757, a third edition in 1761, and a fourth in 1763. Lennox grew increasingly frustrated, since now the law was on her side. She wrote to Johnson, “they had no right to do this without my consent.”125 She had offered them a corrected copy the year before, but they had not accepted it. Still, her relentlessness paid off, and swiftly after the fifth edition, Dodsley, Millar, and Shropshire finally allowed Lennox to earn some money after all: “A New Edition” of Sully would for the first time specifically state, “Translated from the French, by the Author of the Female Quixote.” Lennox was finally getting credit, and some profit, for Sully. Although Original Works had failed, Lennox’s identity was now fully attached to the work that would have the longest afterlife. Lennox’s tough-mindedness was one of her most important qualities. Some might say that she sought out conflict. Even so, her complex mind and ability to write and publish on topics not usually considered within the purview of women was frequently being recognized, even celebrated. In a newpaper article promoting women who study “science,” “tactics,” and “politics,” Lennox was placed not

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only alongside Macauley but Hannah Snell, a renowned female soldier, and Aphra Behn, “who wrote a number of ingenious pieces both in prose and verse” and “was so esteemed for her sense and address in politics, that she was employed in negotiation by the Ministers of Charles the Second, in which she acquitted herself with great applause.” Lennox’s public engagement in these predominantly male arenas is excitedly promoted and boasted as equal to the French. The final proof of her significance is given with a comparison of her work with “the great De Sully.” Lennox was thus a model of “proper study and pride” for the English nation.126 Around the same time, Lennox was rewarded for her merit in a particularly satisfying way, and her wish not to be forgotten was even more fully granted. Not long after the initial celebration of Old City Manners and her triumph with Sully, Lennox reached a new kind of pinnacle in her literary career when Richard Samuel chose to include her in his painting as one of The Nine Living Muses of Great Britain. In this painting, first advertised in November 1777 and described in contemporary newspapers as “extremely popular,”127 Lennox was honoured in a much grander way than she could have expected by being placed side by side with authors Elizabeth Carter, Anna Letitia Barbauld, Frances Sheridan, Hannah More, Elizabeth Montagu, Elizabeth Griffith, and Catharine Macaulay, as well as artist Angelica Kauffman. Throughout the century, critics used the term “muse” to epitomize the vital and active role British women played as practitioners of the arts. In addition, the portrait was used to defend female creativity against outright hostility and to promote women’s civilizing force in society – all ideals Lennox pursued.128 Her importance was solidified by further distribution of Samuel’s painting: It also appeared as an engraving in the Ladies New and Polite Pocket Memorandum for 1778 and was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1779.129 Lennox was fifty-one when The Nine Living Muses was first displayed at the Royal Academy in the larger and grander Somerset House, designed by William Chambers, architect to George III. Richard Samuel, who had had some success exhibiting at this premier location in 1774 as well, “celebrated the feminine icon as a powerful example of what women might be and do.” Samuel’s painting, published by Joseph Johnson, was a visual argument that these women’s work promoted national pride and instilled a needed sense of national identity. As Elizabeth Eger has explained, the painting was a tribute to “cultural standard bearers of considerable influence … who personified the aims of a civilized society.” Eger argues that women’s role as producers and promoters of “fine art and literature was important to the definition of Britain’s status as a commercially successful and culturally sophisticated nation.”130 Lennox’s presence in this touchstone painting has since meant her inclusion in a wider definition of Bluestocking; that is, one who was influential in “gynocratic modernity.”131 Lennox’s enlightened notion of meritocracy, which ultimately promoted more just societies, certainly

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Figure 15 “The Nine Muses of Great Britain,” after similar painting by Richard Samuel, for Ladies New and Polite Pocket Memorandum for 1778. Lennox appears to be holding a writing tablet in the upper left.

deserved this tribute, and her popularity in bookstalls confirmed her influence. Her titles, including reprints, appeared nearly every year in the 1770s in London and abroad.132 Upon seeing the print, two of the muses shared their feelings about becoming icons of female intellectual excellence and influence. Elizabeth Montagu immediately wrote to her closest friend, Elizabeth Carter: Pray do you know, that Mr [Joseph] Johnson, the editor of a most useful pocket book, has done my Prose head the honour to putt it into print with yours, & seven other celebrated heads, & to call us the nine Muses. He also says some very handsome things, & it is charming to think how our praises will ride about the World in every

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bodies pocket. Unless we could all be put into a popular ballad, set to a favourite old English tune, I do not see how we could become more universally celebrated. We might have lived in an age in which we should never have had the pleasure of seeing our features, or characters, in Pocket books … I think it extraordinary felicity even to enjoy a little brief celebrity, & contracted fame.133

Lennox, who more readily than these women welcomed publicity, would have been even more buoyed by this “universal celebration” and the fact that they were living at a time when women could expect to have such public popularity for their intellect. She would have also been amused by Montagu’s joke that only acknowledgment in a catchy current song would have been higher praise. Furthermore, as we recall, Lennox herself had lived and worked in Somerset House just a few years earlier. Six years before her own “Prose head” was proudly displayed for public viewing as one of The Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, she was forced to leave these quarters because of major renovations. Now, she was positioned among the nine most influential intellectual women of her era, and honoured in the very place from which she had been ejected as a pauper. Praise of Lennox would “ride about the World in every bodies pocket.”

Chapter Eleven

Friendship, Marriage, and Motherhood 1778–93

With such companions this wild, savage region blooms a paradise. (Euphemia, 197)

Just as she engaged with current events and authentic morality in Old City Manners, Lennox thrived on the swirl of ideas and opinions circulating in London coffeehouses, dining rooms, and Houses of Parliament. As a professional celebrity, she was often imaginatively caught up in the public life of the newspapers and the streets, but this intellectual activity did not so entirely consume her that she neglected those close to her. Although less evidence exists of her daily life than of her published ideas, enough remains to give us some idea of interactions in her inner circle. When not writing or negotiating her professional relationships, Lennox spent the majority of her time with her husband, daughter, son, and numerous friends. As we have seen, her literary network of friends included authors Samuel Johnson, Samuel Richardson, Henry Fielding, David Garrick, Joshua Reynolds, George Lewis Scott, James Grainger, Mary Ann Yates, Sarah Scott, Catharine Macaulay, and the Duchess of Newcastle. Though Lennox had limited experience with customary sociability and an occasionally thorny manner, she was in fact quite social. A closer look through her correspondence at a wide range of her intimate relationships – with people from all stations of life – illuminates her interest in ideas that also appear in her public persona. Equality, independence, and a desire for connection are patterns in her interactions with intimates. Rather than concentrate on specific Lennox publications, this chapter examines her relationships, the individuals who fed her spirit and provided grist for her work, and examines the overlap between the personal and the professional.

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Considering the surviving documents, it seems that over her entire life and career Lennox’s closest intimate friendship and deepest personal connection was with Samuel Johnson. This relationship lasted for nearly forty years and had an impact on Lennox’s life even beyond Johnson’s death in 1784. In the last years of his life and with failing handwriting, Johnson was still nurturing their bond, which – as we will recall – began when they were both trying to make a literary career for themselves in London in the 1740s. With Lennox he shared a temperamental personality that sometimes stung those closest to him, so he understood her struggles both in personal and professional relationships. Lennox and Johnson’s interactions often showed the overlap of the personal and the professional. The subjects they regularly discussed ranged from the humorous and familiar to business matters and the political. A letter when she was forty-eight and he was sixty-eight showed Lennox socializing with him in their familiar way. Her tone indicates an acknowledgment that she was not known for her domestic skills, and it anticipates a teasing by Johnson with which she was familiar. You cannot imagine what – pleasure it gave me to hear you say you would come and eat apple dumplings of my making – you may be sure I will hold you to your promise – but alas! Apples will not be ripe this long time, and I am impatient for your company – suppose you were to try my hand at a gooseberry tart – I might venture to say it without being thought vain, I could tell you that my tarts have been admired.1

This sarcastic boast about the worthiness of her gooseberry tart reveals a shared inside joke. It was well known that homemaking was not Lennox’s strong suit.2 Thus, her flippancy about her own domestic skill is particularly enjoyable to witness. She proceeds with a discussion set within her realm of talent: being ignored in her attempt to gain the rights to her translation of Sully. Like old friends, they had patterns to their disagreements. In another instance when they argued, Johnson again, whether fairly or not, blamed himself, putting it down to illness, confusion, and haste. He had suffered from poor eyesight, perhaps even since childhood, and from around the age of sixty he was also almost deaf. Lennox, who would have known of these limitations, had visited him, but he had not recognized her. This mortified him, so he immediately wrote her and apologized: “the answer which I happened to give you was intended for another, very unlike you, so that you must not be angry with me?, Madam, Your humble servant, Sam Johnson.”3 Lennox’s health was also bad at this time. She complained of “a violent inflammation in my eyes, which has left them so weak, that I shape my letters merely by guess.”4 Interactions between these two miserable hotheads must have been entertaining to observe. Neither suffered fools gladly, yet Johnson considered Lennox’s edgy personality a part of her incisive mind. At the

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Essex-Head Club in the last year of his life, Johnson supposedly declared Lennox to have greater genius than several of the most lauded women writers of the age. Boswell reports him saying, I dined yesterday at Mrs. Garrick’s, with Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and Miss Fanny Burney. Three such women are not to be found: I know not where I could find a fourth, except Mrs. Lennox, who is superiour to them all.

When Boswell challenged this bold assertion, suggesting that the possible exception was Elizabeth Montagu, queen of the Bluestockings, Johnson retorted that she “does not make a trade of her wit.”5 To Johnson, Lennox’s gutsy career, which regularly put her under public scrutiny, was far more impressive and better proof of her wide-ranging intelligence than that of a good writer who would not take the risk and subject herself to punishing deadlines and public scrutiny. Johnson believed that genius should not be kept private but offered up for public criticism. As a man who had also struggled to get his own literary career off the ground, Johnson deeply respected the depth of Lennox’s own raw courage, initiative, and fortitude. Another reason for the profound connection between Johnson and Lennox was their shared doubts about religion. In 1775, Johnson mentioned her religious “indecencies,” of which he had “heard complaints.” Lennox seems to have preferred to call her religious idiosyncrasies “peculiarities.”6 As we have seen, Lennox was inclined to view life through a secular perspective and had some doubts about the efficacy of religion. It is particularly surprising that these “indecencies” were not made public. In 1787, Lennox expressed her rational difficulties with some aspects of Christianity and was not taking communion regularly. She shared these concerns with the Reverend Thomas Winstanley, who had a church in Idol Lane close to the Customs House. His reply showed how little he understood, or was willing to entertain, her doubts. His only response was the classic condescending response: “suffer not yourself to be perplexed about the why and the wherefore, of divine things. Be content that ‘It is written’; – though it surpasses your understanding to account for it.”7 Lennox was not someone who found it easy to accept religious doctrine – or indeed any doctrine – without evidence or interrogation. However, Winstanley proceeded to quote lines from the evangelical Thomas Adams’s prayer. These included a reference to “a hard heart and a rebellious spirit,” which Lennox was encouraged to renounce. Similarly, Johnson was not content to accept banal answers to theological (or any other) questions: Mrs Thrale described his “fixed incredulity of everything he heard” and said that “it amounted almost to [a] disease.” When the time of his death was predicted, Johnson said, “I am so glad to have every evidence of the spiritual world, that I

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am willing to believe it.” His doctor replied, “You have evidence enough; good evidence, which needs not such support.” But Johnson disagreed: “I like to have more.”8 These dissatisfactions and curiosities fed the Lennox/Johnson friendship. Johnson described at least one visit from Lennox that took place in the last two years of his life during a period in which he was in bad health. “I remember nothing but that I rose in the afternoon and saw Mrs. Lennox …”9 As he was dying, Winstanley was called to Johnson’s bedside, but he did not go. Instead, Lennox, the religious doubter, did. She sat by his side days before his passing on 13 December 1784, which marked the end of a remarkable bond. Lennox was a devoted friend, and she was also a devoted mother. The role of wife proved, however, to be the most challenging of the three, since this relationship was often at odds with her friendships. One particular moment in 1777, around the time that Lennox’s daughter Harriet was twelve, reveals Lennox, with a backdrop of her professional life, negotiating these intimate roles. Having advocated for young women’s education, most pointedly in the Lady’s Museum, and having written at great length about their plight, Lennox was now confronted with these social realities in the most personal way. For reasons that are not clear, she felt strongly that Harriet should attend a school away from home. Perhaps the Lennoxes finally had the necessary funds to give their children a better education because Alexander had a higher income after being promoted to Deputy King’s Tidewaiter at Customs, and Charlotte was earning more from her writing because of the new copyright law. Around this time, six-year-old George was attending boarding school during the week and returning home on the weekends, and perhaps Charlotte hoped her daughter would receive an education closer to that of her brother. However, she knew that the only way that this would happen was if she initiated it. She described herself as being “reduced to a most deplorable state of health,” which “added at least ten years to my looks, as everyone who saw me could easily perceive.” Alexander kept an apartment in the City,10 and to recover from illness Charlotte had moved with the children from Tower Hill to Marylebone, three and a half miles away, “where I have the greatest part of a pretty house, in a very pleasant situation … and one maid makes all my equipage.”11 The Marylebone estate had been purchased by John Holles, the earlier Duke of Newcastle and uncle of Lennox’s patron and succeeding Duke of Newcastle, Thomas Pelham-Holles, and had become a fashionable village on the northwest of the city that was home to many literary and political figures. Thomas Pelham-Holles had died eleven years earlier, and his wife, the Duchess Henrietta, had died the previous year, in 1776. Because of her connections with them, Lennox may have been in contact with John Holles’s daughter, Lady Henrietta Harley, who was the current owner. Lennox later acknowledged their kindness, which may have included these living arrangements, by creating the extraordinarily loyal friend, Miss Maria

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Harley, who featured prominently in her last novel, Euphemia. Marylebone was also home to celebrity actress Sarah Siddons and Bluestocking hostess Elizabeth Montagu, so Lennox had likely arrived at the highest point of fashionable living of her lifetime. She had “a spare bed chamber, [as] Mr. Lennox is here as often as his business will permit.”12 Now perhaps the embarrassment of her ruined looks because of smallpox contributed to keeping her from attending Bluestocking salons. However, on this occasion, Alexander was not staying in Marylebone, and Charlotte needed him to make a decision about where Harriet would attend school. They had discussed a school in France, and she wrote him a four-page letter documenting some of her ideas about female education.13 For one, she was uncomfortable sending her daughter abroad, even though the school was in the north of France, in Boulogne. She preferred a school eighty miles south of London, in Gosport, England, near Portsmouth and Southampton. Although the schools were just across the English channel from one another, she explained to Alexander that they had little assurance of the quality of education their daughter would receive in France. Her own experience as a preteen leaving her home and sailing the Atlantic alone to improve her opportunities would probably have been on her mind, along with perhaps a deep feeling of her mother’s betrayal. Responding to the common complaint about the emotive quality of a woman’s mind, this long letter demonstrates how Lennox’s opinion was not simply formed by emotion. Only a draft survives; however, it reveals much about the tempestuous aspects of the couple’s relationship, Lennox’s role as a mother, and her relationship with a few close friends. The letter begins: I have talked with Mr. Johnson [Samuel Johnson], and other persons of good sense and experience, upon the expediency of sending Harriet to Boulogne for her education – and they are all of the opinion, which they supported with very good reasons, that a Boarding school here, will be equally advantageous, equally cheap, and is liable to fewer inconveniences than a convent. Their reasons have convinced me, and that is the cause that they will never convince you – therefore I submit to your despotic will, with this condition only, that I go with her, and see her settled – this point I never will give up …

Charlotte’s network of intimates, people of “good sense and experience,” has not only been important for her professional life, but is employed here perhaps to get advice, or at least support for her opinion, about the best school for Harriet. We also see evidence of her submission, or appearance of submission, to her husband. Referring to his despotic will is either confirmation of her powerless rage or a kind of tortured concession to Alexander, who she does not believe possesses the same sensibilities as her friends. It also conveys a great deal of information about

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her previous experiences with him. She depicts herself here as having submitted to him, or been forced to submit to him, before. Whatever Alexander’s merits, through Charlotte’s eyes we cannot help but see him as tyrannical. The letter also reports news about Lennox’s close friend Lady Lydia Clerke, wife of the reckless John Clerke, who served in the Americas, Africa, and India. She had the potential to be Harriet’s wealthy benefactress. Like the Duchess of Newcastle, Lady Clerke was invested in a particularly personal way with mother and daughter. She not only advised Lennox on a good school for Harriet but also urged Lennox to allow her to be Harriet’s surrogate mother. Lennox explained to Alexander: [she] begged me to place Harriet, assuring me she would in every respect supply the place of a mother, to her – that she would see her every week or fortnight, take her home to her Mama’s house during every vacation, and write me regular accounts of her health, her improvements and her behaviour.14

Lennox felt that this arrangement would give her a better chance of maintaining ties with her daughter, especially because her friend would be of assistance. The distance from London to Gosport, as Lennox had explained earlier, “might as well have been the moon” for someone like her who had no expendable income. Lady Clerke, kindly, promised to send Lennox regular updates on Harriet.15 Furthermore, Lennox reported to Alexander that the childless Lady Clerke had included Harriet in her will.16 Lennox predicts that Alexander will respond poorly to Lady Clerke’s offer. She tells Alexander that she expects that he “may – affect to treat what I am now going to tell you with ridicule.” Although she believes him to be scornful of her relationship with Lady Clerke, she trusts her offer to sponsor Harriet’s education and notes that Harriet is fond of this good-hearted woman. Without building castles in the air, many – advantages for Harriet may be expected. Lady Clerke’s situation considered – at least she will be in fortune’s way, – and in Lady Clerke she will have a wise and virtuous monitress, who will not only endeavour to inspire her with the love of virtue by precepts, but shew how lovely and desirable it is by her own example.17

Clerke will instruct, but she will also teach by example. Lennox’s only hope is to use this fact to reason with Alexander. Even if Lydia Clerke did not turn out to provide financial support for Harriet, she could at least provide the good example of moral behaviour their daughter needed. In this point, Lennox seemed to be playing on something she might have agreed on with her husband, namely that

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children learn by seeing good behaviour, not just by precept. Lennox was also challenging the belief of “most educationists, conservative and progressive alike, [who] vigorously opposed boarding schools for girls and extolled home education.” One of the complaints was the “danger of ‘promiscuous’ mixing of social classes” that often occurred in boarding schools. In the 1780s, such opponents began using the term public education to refer to girls’ boarding schools, since the term made them seem even more unsuitable. For instance, the Reverend John Bennett noted that girls’ schooling was dangerous because “almost everything” about it “could corrupt the heart.” He explained: “a publick education … first inspires the rage for pleasure and dissipation,” which “undomesticates” a woman and therefore “unmakes her as to all the valuable purposes of her existence.” By his standards, the friendships and love of learning that Harriet might obtain were perilous. Another popular educator, Vicesimus Knox, to whose school Lennox would later apply for her son, noted that, although “there [were] many prejudices entertained against the character of a learned lady,” he still advocated for women’s learning: “it does not appear to me, that a woman will be rendered less acceptable in the world, or worse qualified to perform any part of her duty in it, by having employed the time from six to sixteen in the cultivation of her mind.” However, he too disapproved of a girl’s education outside the home, since “the corruption of girls is more fatal in its consequences to society than that of boys.”18 In contrast, it seems from the 1777 letter that Charlotte and Alexander shared the belief that Harriet should attend a boarding school – their debate was simply where. After setting out her arguments both for Harriet’s best education and for her friend’s good influence, Lennox asks Alexander to weigh in, concluding, “pray think on what I have written on this subject, and let me know your determination.” This letter naming and resenting Alexander’s “despotick will” suggests that there was no way to negotiate with him. However, if that had in fact been the case, Lennox would have simply been vitriolic without offering a coherent argument. Instead, she explains in some detail what the facts are. She is writing to Alexander a full month after Lady Clerke has told her of her imminent visit. The tone of this letter suggests not only that Lennox asserts her power to weigh in on this subject but that she makes decisions regarding the children on her own, just as she has been managing her own literary career. Of course, Alexander could be putting off making the decision, but Lennox is predicting that he might abruptly demand his will. This draft also shows Lennox’s calculated timing. Alexander appears here to be a remote father figure. One could imagine a scenario in which he had stated his wish that Harriet go to the convent in France, but Lennox had stalled the preparations. Now that Lydia Clerke was soon to arrive, she took this opportunity to write to Alexander trying to change his mind. If he was a particularly

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disengaged father who was living in the City, perhaps Lennox knew she could enact a plan before he did anything rash that would stop Harriet and her from leaving. This letter could have also been a plea for him to get more involved. Whatever the case, she took her time in writing it after knowing that Alexander had a different opinion. A long list in the letter details Harriet’s lack of basic clothing – she had less than half of what she required. Lennox describes the current shoddy state of much of her wardrobe, and how she is recycling her own clothes for her daughter. This passage paints a vivid picture of the Lennoxes’ dire financial straits and of her painful awareness of how they have not been able to provide adequately for Harriet. Charlotte lists the items of clothing that Harriet owns and those that she will need to purchase: two frocks, six needed; four old pairs of stockings, twelve needed; one night cap, six needed; only rags for under petticoats, four needed; four morning gowns, which is enough; no quilted caps with lace border, three needed; five new shifts (although three are not yet sewn), twelve needed; two “half worn out and only fit to wear in common” skirts that are at least two years old “made out of my gowns.”19

Charlotte shows herself here to be a caring mother, taking meticulous note of her daughter’s material requisites. To buy clothes was to buy the material for making them. Thus, we see her here strategizing about how they will acquire these items in time for Harriet’s departure: When these things are bought, the cheapest, and the readiest way, will be to give them out to be made – at the rate Nanny works, they will be a year doing at home, and for what Mrs. Hubbard does, she is paid three times the value – besides she could not get them down in any reasonable time.

Lennox understands the work of a seamstress and suggests that this was a frugal plan both to save money and to speed up the process of sending Harriet off to school. She indicates that Alexander knows Nanny and Mrs Hubbard – presumably a domestic servant and a seamstress – but he does not know what is most economical or what constitutes a reasonable timetable. This suggests that Lennox occupies herself with these things; that – even though she was well connected in the literary world – the domestic was clearly her domain within the Lennox

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household. We do not know if Harriet ever attended boarding school, but we do see the Lennoxes negotiating parenthood and the world beyond their family. Although this letter does not show Lennox empowered by the relationship, it does indicate her manoeuvring in the very unequal situation. In fact, it is emblematic of how she steered the business side of her writing career. Alexander’s power, both in that world and at home, often existed only in the shadow of Charlotte. Lennox was a talented working woman with acute business instinct who sought to make her fortune and intellectual reputation in the quickly changing London literary marketplace; however, she found ways to combine that role with her role as a mother. She also succeeded, as she had with Samuel Johnson, in transforming some of her professional relationships into intimate friendships. Like her character Arabella from The Female Quixote, Lennox might have had a unique view of femininity that made her seem an oddity among genteel women who praised delicacy over spirit. Lennox nurtured relationships with women from quite different social strata, from the aristocratic to the common. The Duchess of Newcastle occupied the highest non-royal rank. She was the daughter of a duchess and granddaughter of the famous Duke and Duchess of Marlborough. Remarkably, Lennox formed an intimate and long-term relationship with her that was unusual for two individuals from their respective positions in society. Lady Clerke was an upper-class aristocratic woman, and Lennox believed that she was a “good example” for her daughter. In addition to those who could offer patronage, Lennox had intimacies with individuals lower on the social spectrum. She lodged with a “good woman” in May 1793. She also received mail at the artist and writer Frances Reynolds’s home in Queen Square around the same time.20 Perhaps most naturally, Lennox was friends with creative women. She and Reynolds had several circumstances in common: they shared the drama of familial strife and had no kinship connections (Frances had broken ties with her brother Joshua in 1779). Mary Ann Yates was another artistic friend of Lennox’s. As we saw previously, Lennox admired Yates as an actress, and the two socialized in friends’ homes.21 After Yates’s death, Lennox was proud to “boast the honour of having been … the friend of Mrs. Yates.”22 Frances Brooke, who frequented Yates’s home, may have spent time with Lennox there, as well.23 Sarah Scott mixed with Lennox, as did Catharine Macaulay. However, little documentation survives about their friendships, unless they had an extended correspondence, which would have required Lennox’s free time and disposable income for paper, pen, and post. In addition, Lennox was close friends with several women who corresponded with Lady Lydia Clerke, and this circle illustrates how “female friendship was vitally important” to her. In addition to Clerke herself and Sylvia Brathwaite Thornton, the circle included Sylvia’s husband, Bonnell Thornton, who ran a

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Figure 16 Frances Reynolds, by Samuel William Reynolds, after Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1824. National Portrait Gallery, London.

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weekly newspaper, was an advocate of women’s writing, and participated in the Johnson circle.24 Lennox and Sylvia shared friends and letters, and they commiserated with each other over their marriages and finances. Sylvia died when Lennox was sixty-four years old and in her will left Lennox her cabinet, two cloaks, and five guineas (enough to keep up Lennox’s wardrobe for a few years).25 As the largest bequest in Sylvia’s will is twenty pounds, various articles of clothing, and some unmade fabric to her niece, these gifts to Lennox are very generous indeed.26 Lady Lydia Clerke was “at the heart of this circle of acquaintance,” and she was a friend and confidante to many women.27 Clerke was married for fourteen years and a widow for fourteen more before she married again. She was generous to others and open about her own personal fears about her marriage. We know of Lennox’s friendship with Clerke because of a collection of correspondence of which Lennox was a part. Two of her letters in 1776 and around 1777 to Clerke reveal Lennox’s capacity for strong connections with women. Theirs was a friendship with depth that suggested personal sacrifice based on love and affection. At forty-seven, Lennox was eleven years older than Clerke, and they discussed the travails of submission in marriage, the writing life, financial concerns, and, as has been mentioned, Lennox’s daughter Harriet (Clerke had no children of her own). When this relationship began, Lennox and Clerke were not financial equals, so it might be assumed that their bond was one of interest rather than affection. Clerke could be seen to simply be performing her role as charitable patron, and Lennox had the role of the loyal, and thus adoring, needy client. However, the fact that Clerke saved Lennox’s letters and the details of her offers show her to be sincere, not just a woman who was interested in a charity case. Also, if their friendship was superficial, it would have quickly fizzled when Clerke lost her fortune and needed a new home. Instead of turning away or ignoring this crisis, however, Lennox was intensely loyal to her friend. Clerke’s first marriage was fraught with financial, legal, familial, and sexual problems, and in 1776 her husband had “suffered a devastating financial mishap.”28 In this delicate situation, Lennox wrote sympathetically, Oh my dearest Lady Clerke, what a letter have you wrote me! How shall I comfort you, how shall I comfort myself – I feel I have philosophy only for my own misfortunes – yours depresses me quite – believe me, I neither feign nor exaggerate – I am overwhelmed with your affliction – I can think of nothing but you, and ever since I have received your letter I have not been able to speak a civil word to anybody … my heart bleeds for you … my dear friend you shall not, while I have life, live in a cottage alone – I will accompany you in any retirement, I will join my pittance to yours, and your dear society would perhaps awake some sparks of genius again and enable me to enlarge our little income by my pen – such is the wish of friendship.29

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Lennox’s first response, when she is unable to offer Clerke words of comfort, is to suggest a future (if simple) life together: “I will join my pittance to yours.” Lennox’s own novels meditated on the potential for women to be financially ruined because of men, the very position that Clerke was in now. Lennox was perhaps dreaming of a life outside the busy city of London, where she and Clerke could exist “in any retirement” of Clerke’s choosing. Lennox would be inspired by Clerke’s presence once again to produce work that could support them financially. Consequently, they could enjoy a simple subsistence on her profits. Lennox signed this letter to Clerke, “yours ever entirely.” The feelings Lennox expresses for Clerke are passionate, a quality that occasionally caused her trouble when it manifested as anger. Here, however, the particular intensity with Clerke translated into friendship. In the other surviving letter between the two, Lennox’s quick response upon hearing of her friend’s trouble was angrier, confirming her genuine feelings of connection and her desire to avenge the injustice done to Clerke. The secretary of state for the southern department, Lord Rochford, sent Clerke’s husband, who was in debt in England, to India, where he died. John Clerke left his brother Charles to go to prison for those debts.30 When Lennox heard this catastrophic news, she put the blame firmly on the aristocrat: “that abominable Lord Rochford … why draw you in to impoverish yourself … I could stab him.”31 At this time, Lennox had some basic luxuries, including a horse, so she sent this transportation from Great Tower Hill to fetch Clerke: I have dispatched my horse to Panton Street with directions to find out if you have absolutely engaged the lodgings, and if you have not, to tell them that it was a mistake – and that you are to be with me … remember my dear Lady Clerke you must come directly here – I shall die with grief if you go to a lodging, for heaven’s sake spare me this mortification.32

For a woman who declares “adversity is habitual to me,” Lennox’s circumstances do not seem ideal for offering charity. In the later part of the 1770s, she was the mother of a young boy and a preteen girl without a proper set of clothing, and she had hastily committed to housing another dependant in the name of friendship. Thus, her offer of shelter was particularly generous – or perhaps she was counting on the fact that Clerke had at least some money. In the second letter, Lennox poignantly writes about the sting she felt when her heartfelt comforts and invitation to Clerke were met with silence. Lennox was inspired to write again because of a letter from Clerke that Sylvia Thornton showed her upon John Clerke’s sudden death.33 Even though Lennox’s letter indicted Clerke for ignoring her, Lennox was still warm and offered comfort once again. Writing from a new address, she counselled,

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You say your health is impaired. I fear it will be more so my dear friend, if you continue to give way to grief – amiable as that grief is you ought to suppress it, when its effects are likely to be so fatal – patience under inevitable evils is not more an act of duty, than necessity – “We are all … born with a heavy clog to which we are chained, but he who takes it up and carries it, feels less inconvenience than he who drags it along.”34

By paraphrasing the Roman stoic Seneca, whom she quoted several times in her novel Sophia, Lennox invokes her wide reading here. She did not cite the Bible about Jesus taking up his cross and carrying it, which would have suggested the same acceptance of suffering. Instead, she invoked a classical philosopher. She believed that, rather than dutifully bearing one’s burdens, it was simply more practical to just get on with it. Patience, then, is a “necessity.” Again, Lennox’s “peculiarities” and “indecencies” with regard to religion mean that she overlooks and dodges religious themes and is more comfortable in the secular realm than she is in the sacred. This quote was shared in the context of the letter Clerke had written to Sylvia Thornton informing Thornton of John Clerke’s death. In it, she wrote about her acceptance of her husband’s infidelity. Lennox now, in a letter of condolence after reading the letter to Thornton, describes how she was struck by Clerke’s ability to articulate herself. Although my eyes streamed at every line, I would not have exchanged the sweetly painful emotions I felt, for the broadest mirth of unfeeling prosperity – never did such natural and affecting eloquence flow from your pen before! It is your heart that speaks, and you speak to the heart so powerfully that I wept as much at the third reading of your letter as I did at the first.35

This is an intensely sentimental mode of reading and writing, a style that Lennox had satirized and sometimes unashamedly exploited in her own novels. However, at this raw moment she invokes it to embolden Clerke. Lennox emphasized that she would hold Clerke up as an example of the “generosity” of women, and in fact she wanted to possess Clerke’s letter (which she had only seen through Sylvia Thornton) for herself. In Lennox’s passionate style, she admitted to having “forced” it from Sylvia with the justification that it could be proof that there are women who actually forgive infidelity. I forced it from Mrs Thornton in order to convert some of the infidels of the other sex, who maintain that no woman was ever generous enough to forgive certain offenses in a husband. – that unaffected display of the most tender, the most

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generous sentiments that ever warmed a human breast does you so much honour that they ought not to be concealed and form the noblest apology for the mistakes of the dear object of your regrets, since no one can doubt for a moment that he who could inspire so pure and constant a passion in such a breast as yours must have possessed many and great virtues – and let it be your consolation that he did possess them and that he will now reap the full benefit of them – for he is gone where falsehood, envy, and malice can neither aggravate his failings, nor rob his merits of their just reward.36

Lennox sees Clerke as both a model writer and a model wife, roles that Lennox does not believe are mutually exclusive. She respected Clerke for forgiving her husband, and she could see how Clerke’s heartfelt words could add support to Lennox’s mission – to show the sceptical, “the infidels of the other sex,” that women have (or are forced to have) an extraordinary capacity for forgiveness. If Clerke’s extravagant husband had made only a few mistakes, since he “inspired so pure and constant a passion” in his wife, she supported her friend’s forgiveness. However, Lady Clerke’s virtues, not her husband’s, were Lennox’s sole interest. She cleverly brought up what she likely perceived to be John Clerke’s failings of “falsehood, envy, and malice,” but kindly noted that a great woman like Clerke would only have been with a man who “possessed many and great virtues.” Understanding the complexity of human relationships was tantamount to supporting her friend in her grief. Lennox thus focused on empathizing with Clerke’s misery in marriage, her concern that her husband might not have been admitted to heaven, and now the financial injustice of facing the world as an impoverished widow. Despite Lennox’s hesitations about religion, she was agile with its rhetoric and its ability to comfort in grief. Her empathy for her friend, and women like her, was later embodied in her novel about the generous Euphemia, who also manoeuvred through life with a bad husband. Lennox cared deeply for Clerke, who reciprocated with strong feelings for Lennox. She loyally supported Lennox’s work, subscribing to Original Works, thinking with Lennox about her future writing projects, and discussing books with her. In a heartfelt act of friendship, Clerke sent Lennox a French book by Jean-François Marmontel – probably his latest, The Incas, or the Destruction of the Empire of Peru (1777), which extols the goodness of the Incas and the cruelty of European domination. This text was a retort to the Sorbonne and the Archibishop of Paris, who had censured a chapter on religious toleration that Marmontel had written a decade earlier.37 Clerke must have known about Lennox’s own experience in America, and perhaps they had spoken about the plight of indigenous peoples in lands that Europeans were occupying. The book could have been sent with translation work for Lennox in mind.38 Also, The Incas may have contributed to Lennox’s idea for

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her next novel, Euphemia, which posed questions about the ethics of the British role in America. In her letter of condolence, Lennox tactfully expressed hope that her friend was now more “disposed to admit comfort.” She did not, however, ignore Clerke’s long silence, acknowledging how much it hurt her. I ought to make you an apology for not letting you know of my removal from Tower Hill – I cannot palliate, nor disguise the truth, therefore I will honestly own, that not having received any answer to two or three letters which I wrote to you, – I thought I owed so much respect to myself, as to be silent for the future.39

The Lennox/Clerke relationship, like any intimate friendship with a dramatic financial differential, was potentially complicated. Different responses to life’s intractable difficulties also could have come between them. Perhaps Clerke was in such pain that she isolated herself from everyone, or perhaps Lennox’s effusions were overwhelming to Clerke, who had always seen herself as the stable one. However, Lennox was not inclined to hide her feelings from those she loved, or restrain herself from insisting on her dignity when she felt snubbed. “I thought I owed so much respect to myself, as to be silent.” At the same time, Lennox is quite willing to reconsider her sentiment when her friend is in trouble. Determined to forgive and forget, with only the transition of a dash for punctuation, Lennox switched topics to report on her daily life. She moved on, hoping to show Clerke that she would not hold a grudge. Instead, employing a strategy common in close relationships, she would repair their rift by sharing herself. Therefore, she picked up where they had left off before Clerke’s crisis and turned immediately to a description of her fashionable living conditions. Perhaps she was posing an unspoken question: What would have happened if Clerke had taken her up on the offer and come to live with her? While noting Harriet sitting nearby, Lennox reported details of her far more comfortable living situation on Nottingham Street in Marylebone, adding, “Your Harriet is with me.” Fortunately, her domestic life was satisfying, but her professional life and her health were not: “My necessities will I fear oblige me to take up my pen again, but I doubt much whether I can bear any sort of study, my nerves are so much affected by the continual agitation of my mind for so long a time.” Their friendship was not based on Lennox’s writing career, since she was not worried about admitting her lack of productivity. She freely reported her reasons for not wanting to publish: I am likely to be engaged in a war with the booksellers, – who have ventured in defiance of an Act of Parliament to print a new edition of Sully’s Memoirs, which is now my sole property – Doctor Johnson has been with me on this occasion and pointed

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out to me what measures I need to pursue – I believe I shall not find it difficult to find lawyers who will serve me without fees.40

Although health conditions were setting her back, Lennox’s continual frustration with the treatment of authors in the marketplace was an even greater discouragement. In this familiar and stream-of-consciousness letter, she details to Clerke how she knew that Lord Camden was “the person who could do me most good.” Camden, who had been Lord Chancellor from 1766 to 1770, had been instrumental in the 1774 copyright decision. In contrast, Garrick was causing her difficulty. Although she had thanked Garrick in a printed version of Old City Manners, they had locked horns, perhaps because she was not compensated by him as she believed she deserved. As a result of their falling out, Lennox thought that Garrick would “prevent Lord Camden with whom he is very intimate from being of any use to me.” This personal and detailed sharing of her concerns signals Lennox’s belief that Clerke cared about her professional aspirations and that Lennox hoped they could return to mutual friendship. Lennox’s relationship with Clerke is emblematic of the blurred lines between her professional and private worlds and the struggle to be successful in both. One could read Lennox’s effusion and warmth towards Clerke as a master performance of an intelligent and needy woman. Perhaps Clerke liked Lennox and was inclined to go beyond the normal degree of charity to help an author she admired, but was surprised when Lennox responded so intensely to her offers of help. The force of Lennox’s feeling was not something she could entirely hide. It could be that Lennox had inadvertently pushed Clerke away. Some of Lennox’s relationships when she was younger may have led her to the conclusion that putting too much trust in aristocratic women, who were likely serving their own interests, was dangerous. Her early protectors Lady Isabella Finch and her sister Lady Mary Rockingham did not prove lifelong friends, and Lennox had written about the disappointments of women’s friendships in many of her novels. In fact, the title of a chapter in Henrietta in which the protagonist is betrayed by a trusted friend is sarcastically titled “Which Gives the Reader a Specimen of Female Friendship.”41 We see her here, writing to an aristocratic woman, while operating in the liminal space between the usual “working woman,” who tutored children and did physical labour, and the “cultured woman,” who led a busy social life and perhaps managed a large house or estate. Lennox was also a working author, performing the intense labour of writing, but working within the highly respected realm of literature. She desired stimulating conversation with other women, but this would have been most readily available in domestic spaces among women who didn’t have deadlines or financial pressures. Lennox often had both, but was still capable of working hard to repair a relationship that was important to her on a personal level.

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Lennox valued and fostered a wide range of long-term relationships. Her close relationship with Johnson likely facilitated her friendship with James Boswell, with whom she shared family connections in Scotland. Evidence of the closeness of their friendship appears in the 1790s. Boswell had a tendency towards jealousy and could not abide another of Johnson’s bosom friends, Hester Thrale. The fact that Lennox and Boswell had warm connections attests to Lennox’s charm and grace. Boswell had become a literary celebrity in his own right with the publication of his Life of Samuel Johnson in 1791. Boswell’s wife died in 1789, and Lennox spent time with Boswell’s teenage daughters. She greeted Veronica, Euphemia, and Elizabeth in letters she wrote to Boswell, once referring to them augustly as “the ladies of your family.”42 This friendship with Boswell also resulted in literary support, as he wrote a proposal for “a new and improved edition of Shakespear Illustrated ” in 1793, which will be discussed in the following chapter. This hearty sales pitch began by emphasizing Lennox’s youth back in 1753 when Shakespear Illustrated was first published. Boswell, who was in a good position to endorse new publications, noted her “vivacity and confidence” as well as her “critical sagacity,” which in his words had led her to discover that “the immortal dramatic poet of our nation had borrowed many of his plots.” Boswell also highlighted Lennox’s early success: “the public was pleased to see so much merit in the performance.” As a final ringing endorsement, he played up his expertise on Johnson, explaining that Johnson took Lennox seriously as a scholar, “adopt[ing]” some of her remarks in his own edition of Shakespeare, quoting her work “as one of the authorities in his Dictionary,” and presenting Shakespear Illustrated to Oxford University. Lennox’s work, Boswell reminded potential subscribers, was even praised on the Continent.43 In fact, he noted that Johann Christoph Gottsched, one of the most important German drama critics of the eighteenth century, considered Lennox far ahead of her time. Gottsched emphasized his surprise and delight that a woman was the first to apply “critical rules” to the English dramatist: It seems the English are starting to look at the stage according to critical rules. After they allowed their wit all kinds of excesses for a long time, following Shakespeare’s example, now smart spirits are recognizing that not all that glitters is gold. The most amazing thing is that a clever woman is leading the way here and showing the entire English nation that one has to subject prejudices to reason and that one has to subject everything that serves to amuse the spirit to the judgment of a fine taste and the incontrovertible rules of art. It is Mrs. Lenox, a woman born in America, who is showing her country people such an important model in this work.44

Boswell’s knowledge of this unmitigated praise could in fact have come from Johnson. By mentioning Gottsched’s review, Boswell drew attention to the

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extraordinary fact that it was a woman and an American who had so cleverly analysed Shakespeare, “showing the entire English nation that one has to subject prejudices to reason.” Although Gottsched had incorrectly stated that Lennox was born in America, her international impact – that is, how he used her influence abroad – was further proof of the great merit of Shakespear Illustrated. In fact, Boswell implied that Lennox played a large role in making the national English hero famous abroad. Now, when the fame of Shakespeare has had considerable accessions by the labours of various commentators, and when, by a wide diffusion of good taste, his works justly enjoy a popularity so extensive, that the world is ready to afford the most liberal patronage to correct, elegant, and splendid editions of them, she is willing to flatter herself that her friends are not mistaken in thinking that her book, entitled, Shakespeare Illustrated, may now advantageously be produced in a more respectable form, and with the improvements which, at a mature age, she trusts she can give it.45

We do not know how Lennox was hoping to “correct,” as Bowell was promising, her criticism of Shakespeare, done when she was so young. Now at age sixty-four, having read and written far more – including having done her own adaptation of an earlier play for the stage – she must have expanded her ideas about the bard. In 1794 Lennox was still on friendly terms with the Boswells. In a letter to the eldest daughter, Veronica, she expressed her eagerness to learn about a recent discussion in the Gentleman’s Magazine between Boswell and Anna Seward. Lennox writes, “Everyone talks of the wit, the humour, the delicate, yet poignant strokes of ridicule displayed by Mr. Boswell in his correspondence with his fair antagonist.” Lennox was frustrated. She had not been able to read the exchange when it came out and was feeling left out of the literary world. “Every one talks because everyone but me has read the letters.” In this case, she trusted Boswell to share his copy with her. In her informal style of socializing, Lennox invited Boswell’s sixteen-year-old son, Jamie, to stop by for tea, since he was going to school nearby. She also hoped that the older girls, Veronica and Euphemia, would venture over to Chelsea, where she was now living, to pay her a visit.46 It must have cheered the aging Lennox to think of these young girls coming to call on her. Veronica was Boswell’s only child to stay at the family seat in Auchinleck after her mother died. She was currently visiting London to celebrate the success of The Life of Johnson. However, other young women thought her “uncouth and impolite” – exactly the (supposed) qualities that might have endeared her to Lennox. Veronica accompanied her father back to Auchinleck and nursed him through his final illness, but shockingly, four months later, at the age of twenty-two, Veronica herself died of consumption.

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Lennox lost a number of beloved friends and family throughout her life, and probably she was a little surprised and not a little saddened that at the age of seventy she had outlived so many. Nevertheless, she was still in touch with old friends towards the end of her own life. For instance, she spent time with Bennet Langton, the Scottish lawyer and essayist whom she had known since at least 1769, and maybe even earlier, through Johnson. As a matter of fact, Langton also sat with Johnson in his last days and succeeded him as Professor of Ancient Literature at the Royal Academy in 1788. Now Langton visited Lennox on numerous occasions,47 and he treated her with respect and tenderness.48 Lennox returned the visit and got to know Bennet’s wife, Mary, and some of their ten children. According to the literary chronicler William Beloe, Lennox was “highly respected” by and “a good friend” of Langton’s family.49 In fact, Lennox and Langton’s friendship likely carried on the bonds they had formed with Johnson and Boswell. Lennox’s friendships were rich, but she did not embrace a conventional model of femininity and polite sociability. In fact, she mocked these social norms frequently. Perhaps consequently, close to the end of her life she in turn received a letter, supposedly from a “friend,” that illustrates her complete lack of social standing. This woman and her friends had recently dined with Lennox, and subsequently she sent her this note: Several ladies who met Mrs. Lennox at Mr. Langton’s were astonished to see a gentlewoman’s hands in such horrid order. For God’s sake, wash them & rub back the skin at the roots of the nails. A hint from a friend.50

This presumptuous and hostile message is the final piece in the extant Lennox correspondence, and it poignantly illustrates the culmination of Lennox’s life on the outside of the female genteel establishment. Whether her disgraceful hands were the result of ink stains, illness, lack of money, lack of time, or lack of interest in cleanliness is impossible to determine. Because it is so offensive, this short note is hard to read, but fortunately it is countered by the many letters documenting Lennox’s close and loving relationships. The Necessity of Marriage In contrast to friendship, we have less evidence of happiness in Lennox’s marriage. Her arguably rash and ill-advised marriage to Alexander at the age of eighteen was undoubtedly the most important decision of her life. It could have spelled the end of her career, but Charlotte and Alexander were, at least at some points, and especially early in their marriage, a strong team. Almost all of the women writers of the era struggled with their marriages. Anna Letitia Barbauld’s husband competed

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with her, which had its own unsavoury repercussions and also contributed to her hesitation to publish. Frances Brooke, whose husband was a vicar, travelled with him to Canada. Later they lived in Lincolnshire, but she rarely lived with him in London, where a public life certainly meant being thrust into the centre of the gossip mill. Sarah Scott publicly separated from her husband, with the emotional pain of family acrimony and anger. However, this estrangement was also liberating, since he financially supported her while also not getting in the way of her writing. Elizabeth Carter and Sarah Fielding remained single, as did Frances Burney until she was forty-two. In contrast to these contemporary authors, Charlotte stayed with her husband for at least three decades. They married young and socialized with authors and artists, and the first eighteen years of their marriage did not produce children. However, the two did collaborate in promoting her career. As mentioned in chapter 1, Lennox’s exposure to Native American ideas about greater equality in marriage may have had some effect on her beliefs, though whether these could be manifested with Alexander is unknown. Still, what we do know is that much of Lennox’s writing wrestled with what degree of control young women had over their lives, especially once they started thinking about marriage. Clearly she and Alexander argued, and later in their marriage we see evidence that she lost respect for him. Alexander’s physical presence and financial support fluctuated throughout their lives. At one point in the mid-1770s, Lennox expected a yearly income from him, but did not receive it.51 In 1777, Lennox noted the limitations of his means, writing to Lady Clerke that “for the present [he] supplies my expences.”52 Whatever support she received, Lennox knew, might only be temporary. Alexander’s income as a Deputy King’s Tidewaiter at the Customs House, the post negotiated for him by his wife, was likely based on incentives and bribes (which were not as frowned upon as they are today), and the decline of international trade in this decade would have had a direct effect on customs. Furthermore, Lennox describes his unfortunate “habits of expence,”53 which implies overspending or, worse, profligate ways that were also a source of concern. At some points Alexander relied on her income, and at times she was not bothered by his dependency. In a passage from that 1777 letter when she tells Samuel Johnson of Alexander’s desire to reclaim from the booksellers the rights to her writing, she demonstrates that even in the asserting of the copyright she, not Alexander, was the one who was aware of the logistics and would organize them. In addition to being an unstable financial supporter, Alexander could be emotionally cruel as well. Johnson worried for Lennox in 1781, writing that she was “in great distress; very harshly treated by her husband.” Johnson did not assign all the blame to Alexander, though, but continued, “She has many fopperies, but she is a great Genius, and nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura” (no great genius

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has ever existed without some touch of madness).54 Lennox had her own faults that were not easy to live with. However, in other ways, Alexander was her ally. As we have seen, at least at certain moments he acted on her behalf in her writing career, and at others he agreed to deal jointly with “his property” – i.e., her work, which he legally owned. He also took an interest in coming to the assistance of her friends. When Lydia Clerke was in crisis, he advised Charlotte on the best way to quickly get a letter to her offering her shelter.55 He helped her with her publishing, carried and retrieved her letters,56 found the Italian teacher Baretti, and took her work to collaborators and to supporters in the hope of good reviews in the periodicals. He also went to great lengths to try to gain a peerage that would have secured them financially and took a post that he was only able to get because of Charlotte. It is unclear to what extent Alexander’s presence was maintained to keep up requisite appearances and to what extent he in fact provided emotional and material support. Though divorce was not an option, unhappy men did not burden themselves with their wives’ concerns, and a traditional or upper-class husband might have forbidden a wife to publish and condemned her inability to keep a tidy house and sew his clothes. Upon seeing a pair of ruffles that Charlotte had sewn for Alexander, another (anonymous and rather snarky) writer was inspired to note that she was far better with her pen than she would ever be in her ability to “work Muslin.”57 Yet in spite of Lennox’s inattention to household management, Alexander remained present and sometimes by her side. His motivation for sharing his life with Charlotte could have included the fact that she was a successful writer who was capable of earning an income, but it might have indicated a partnership that was, at least at times, mutually satisfying. Although the Lennoxes often struggled financially and Alexander may have spent money obsessively, having large amounts of money was not Charlotte’s primary motivator for writing. Although cash flow, and perhaps money management, seemed to be a constant problem, the Lennoxes were not always destitute. And even when they weren’t, she kept writing. Lennox likely recognized that as a woman married to a spendthrift, and as an author, her financial circumstances would too often be tenuous. Even Samuel Johnson – one of the most critically and commercially successful writers of the period – sometimes could not make ends meet, and at one point Alexander lent him money, another instance in which we see Alexander showing concern and actively helping others.58 Although Alexander’s lack of financial support was disappointing, his presence was an important element at many junctures in Charlotte’s life, and it seems that in a few instances she, or those looking out for her best interest, may have misrepresented his involvement. As early as 1778, Lennox was described in one document as “a spinster,”59 which was almost certainly not the case. However, it may have been financially beneficial for her to be unmarried. In 1784 she may have

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lived on her own, as she noted that she (not “we”) would stay in Kensington just for the summer. She also mentioned that she would go into town frequently, so she could have been going to Alexander near the Customs House. In May of 1792 a request for financial assistance from the Royal Literary Fund on her behalf noted that he had died in 1788 or 1789.60 At that point she had only “an allowance of £10 a year as the daughter of an officer of high rank in the Army.”61 Alexander was not dead; however, he may have abandoned Charlotte and the children. If he somehow lost his job with Customs, Lennox might have been better off without him and therefore able to request financial help that would normally have been a husband’s responsibility. Alexander apparently stopped working as a Tidewaiter in 1782 and may have left London to seek an income elsewhere, perhaps going to Scotland again to reattempt winning the earldom.62 The problem with this plan was that, at least according to Johnson, Alexander “was not a good solicitor,”63 that is, he did not request help comfortably or effectively. No title or property ever materialized. In fact, his claim was called “futile and preposterous,”64 and even the best persuader might not have had any luck. The details of Alexander’s activities in the mid- and late 1780s and his financial support of Charlotte and the children are unclear. Fortunately, Charlotte’s bid for support from the Royal Literary Fund as an author and widow was successful within the month, and she received ten pounds ten shillings.65 Extant correspondence shows Charlotte receiving mail at nine London addresses between 1778 and 1798. Her transience is an indication of economic instability. In January 1793, Alexander was still a subject of Lennox’s letters. She described herself as “the victim of disinterestedness,” regretting not deriving more personal benefit from her own career by giving up her own preferment for her husband. Instead, she now felt that being a good wife had affected her detrimentally. In a letter to James Dodsley requesting a payment due her, she lamented, [Alexander], the most ungrateful of men has derived great advantages, I am reduced to an income of forty pounds a year, and out of that I am obligd to assist my son – his selfish father having prevented a provision for him which a powerful friend I have in the Ministry intended with his concurrence (which was necessary) to bestow.66

The “great advantages” to which Lennox referred may have been the offer in the early 1760s by the Duke of Newcastle that Lennox turned into Alexander’s position at the Customs House, or the phrase may have been a lament about her entire literary career. Being “reduced” to forty pounds a year meant that Lennox was forced to lead a frugal life. Forty pounds was an income similar to a cook’s, but more than a housekeeper’s, so this was not poverty. Yet, since she had to pay for housing out of that amount, since she had to support a son, and since she

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aspired to a more middle-class life, it would have been difficult for her to live with any degree of comfort. It is also not clear where this forty pounds came from. The letter indicates that this amount was for herself and “to assist my son,” and not to support Alexander as well. “Reduced” suggests that she was used to living on more. Alexander, as she insists here, was the source of their problems, a “selfish father” who refused a “provision” for his son that had been made possible, again, because of Lennox’s contacts. It is unknown who the friend was, but it would seem that this was a position on which twenty-two-year-old George could live. Lennox’s list of “powerful friends” was still long, and this exchange is reminiscent of her representation of Lady Clerke as a valuable contact for Harriet: as in that earlier case, Lennox worried about her children’s future, and Alexander saw things differently. Perhaps his pride had ceased being able to tolerate their arrangement. His own contacts could not provide such benefits for his growing children, and they had to rely on their mother’s. By 7 May of 1793, Lennox was living with that “good woman” on Great Tufton Street in Westminster. But by April 1794 she was again on the move, being “settled for part of the – summer in Chelsea” in a relatively new building on Ranelagh Walk. She noted that in this location the “change of air has relieved me from most of my ailments.”67 She socialized there and seemed to be in generally good spirits, hopeful, and intellectually engaged, though still struggling for money. On 15 June 1795 her financial struggles were obvious, as she took out a loan for two shillings and seven pence from a Mrs Martins.68 This was a small amount of money, but with this loan she might have been able to purchase a pound of wheat flour, a pound of butcher’s meat, half a pound of cheese, half a pound of butter, a quarter of a pound of tea, and a quarter of a pound of sugar.69 Mrs Martins was kind; she only charged her a 5 per cent interest rate and gave her six months to repay it. Though we do not know who this Mrs Martins was, it is entirely possible that her “loan” was a form of charity. Alexander’s whereabouts at this time remain unclear. Many of his attempts to alleviate their financial stresses had failed. In 1793, perhaps believing that her husband’s attempts were hopeless, Charlotte took on the project of trying to procure Alexander’s title, or at least money from his family estate. She must have had faith that there still was a chance that her family had some claim to the Lennox estate, since she asked James Boswell’s son Alexander, who was a lawyer and socialized with Lennox, to make legal inquiries in Scotland.70 She had understood that he would be going north, where he could advocate on their behalf. In the 1780s and 1790s, James Murray owned this Lennox estate in Scotland, and Alexander Boswell advised that Murray had the right to “leave it to whom he pleases, but in the event of his dying intestate your relation would have an undoubted claim if he is heir at law as you inform me.”71 Lennox could only hope that this would all

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work in her son’s favour when Murray died. If her husband had gone to Scotland for the sole purpose of making a final attempt to leave a legacy for his son, and if the report of the death of an “Alexander Lennox” in Geilston, Scotland, on 11 May 1797 documents Lennox’s husband’s death, the moment was especially sad.72 This village is just ten miles from Boswell’s Auchinleck estate, which suggests that Alexander could have met with the Boswells in hopes of their support to secure the Lennoxes’ final years and a chance at a noble life in England for their son. If he died in Scotland, Alexander’s last days were at least dedicated to improving his family’s future. Although they had had a tumultuous marriage, Charlotte must have acutely felt the blow of the passing of the father of her children and sometime life partner. She may have also been relieved. The Satisfactions (and Trials) of Motherhood Lennox’s relationship with Alexander had become more difficult, but her bond with her children was strong. As a wife and mother her keen professionalism impacted these most personal of relationships. Alexander’s, Harriet’s, and George’s lives were all significantly improved (at least in the material, and probably in an intellectual sense as well) by Lennox’s skill not only at writing and marketing herself but also in fostering professional relationships. Lennox was an attentive mother, so she was acutely aware of the challenges her children faced in genteel poverty with no inheritance. Her relationship with her own mother had been difficult, and she did not begin her role as a mother until she was thirty-six, after she had published twelve titles.73 When Meditations and Penitential Prayers was published in 1774, Harriet was nine and George was three. A year later, Old City Manners was being regularly performed, and Lennox’s fame was increasing. She may have hoped that her status as an author would be a kind of capital for her children. In her forties and fifties and on a fluctuating and sometimes minimal income, Lennox balanced raising her children, her marriage to an often-absent husband, socializing with close friends, and her writing life. And in each of her roles she was passionate. By all accounts, Lennox had a special bond with her daughter, Harriet. Frances, Lady Chambers, who was a friend to Lennox at the end of her life, called Harriet – though perhaps for rhetorical effect – Lennox’s “only friend.”74 At the same time, Lennox made sure that Harriet had strong relationships with other women. For instance, Lennox wrote to Lydia Clerke, “Your Harriet is with me,”75 indicating that Clerke had a claim to her daughter as well. Lennox continued, “Harriet begs I will leave room for her to write a few lines to you whom she truly dotes on,” and the twelve-year-old added a note. On the back of her mother’s letter, we see Harriet’s hand:

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My Dear Lady Clerke, My mama tells me to say I love you but not say how much that would require a whole page and not leave space enough for me to sign myself faithful Henrietta Holles Lennox76

The domestic scene in which this letter would have been written comes alive as we imagine the conversation between mother and daughter about what she could write and the young girl’s pride in penning some lines to her mother’s friend, her godmother. Harriet signs her name “Henrietta-Holles Lennox,” reminding us that she bears the second part of the Duke of Newcastle’s last name, Pelham-Holles. Lennox was an attentive mother, and it is not clear if or where Harriet went to school after Charlotte’s impassioned plea to Alexander about Harriet’s education in 1777. However, rather than going to school, she seems to have been getting into trouble. When she was thirteen, she had two altercations with an unknown woman named Ann Brown at the home of Nicholas Hancock, also an unknown person. Because of these quarrels, Harriet ended up in court, in October 1778, when she was charged with assault. However, Ann was later counter-charged, in December, for assaulting Harriet first.77 Little is known about this event, yet what is revealed shows the difficulties a young girl could encounter in the up-market neighbourhood of Kensington. The incident also exposes how different Lennox’s life was from those of most of her contemporaries, who were buffered from street scuffles by more secure housing and carriages that carried them through the city. Charlotte and her daughter were usually forced to walk the crime-ridden London streets, rather than travel by genteel carriage. Harriet’s luck did not improve after this incident, and the death of her godmother the Duchess of Newcastle in 1776 may have been a factor. Sometime in 1780, though the details are not clear, Harriet was “rejected” by a Mrs Cumins, who ran a school in Kensington Square. No evidence exists that indicates whether or not she was ever successfully enrolled in any school. Then, in that same year, Harriet was kicked severely by a horse and broke five front teeth. About this incident Samuel Johnson wrote, “The world is full of troubles [but] the world is likewise full of escapes; had the blow been a little harder it had killed her.”78 Needless to say, these were difficult times for Lennox, but unfortunately things got worse. About two years later, life dealt her a blow of the utmost severity. Harriet died at the young age of seventeen.79 The cause of her death is unknown, though it could have been the result of the horse incident. Lennox expressed the anguish of a mother losing her child in her next novel, where the heroine Euphemia’s “spirit

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[was] half extinguished” by the loss of her son and she experiences “melancholy, which is indeed, as some have observed, ingenious and fruitful when it is a natural temperament of the mind; but stupid and sterile, when it proceeds from the continual outrages of adverse fortune.” Although she feels “stupid and sterile,” Euphemia copes by writing to her best friend and correspondent, Maria. In the wake of this life-altering experience, she calls the letter that she carefully composes her highest calling.80 In her own grief, Lennox wrote a poem called “On Henrietta Holles Lennox 17,” which was not published and perhaps was never meant to be. It was discovered with Lennox’s papers in that security deposit box in Scotland.81 The first lines invite readers not to sympathize passively with Harriet’s fate, but to wake up to the fact that life is uncertain: Stop ye gay tenants of the fleeting day Who careless bask in life’s uncertain ray For serious counsel some few moments save And take a lesson from this early grave82

In fact, as the poem notes, Harriet had all the desirable worldly qualities of “youth, beauty, wit, and elegance.” Lennox had come face to face with the fragility of life, “life’s uncertain ray.” She would turn this horrible event into something productive, offering a lesson to the living. Another poem, which was reprinted frequently over the next thirty-three years in England and America, also memorialized Harriet. First published in London under the title “On the Death of Miss Henrietta Hollis Lennox, Daughter of the Celebrated Mrs. C. Lennox,” in February 1787, it appeared again the next month as “On the Death of a Young Lady” in 1787. Two years later the poem was published in newspapers and magazines in America, in Boston in 1789 and in Salem in 1791.83 This poem, which Lennox cherished among her papers until her death, reappeared in London in 1793.84 With heartwrenching anguish, this popular lament invokes fate and calls Harriet’s death “angry heav’n’s too partial doom, that blasted all our hopes.” The poet suggests that some human action caused heaven to be angry. Rather than forcing a mother to live with her grief, heaven should have struck her down. The poem goes on to suggest a response to the tragic death of the young woman and the excruciating pain of the mother’s mourning: Shall we, with faith’s steady eye, View thee the kindred angels join; An inmate of thy native sky, Whilst heav’n’s eternal year is thine85

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Perhaps Lennox found some consolation in the belief that Harriet was now with the angels, and it seems that the poet wanted to believe this “with faith’s steady eye.” Our brief glimpses into Lennox’s beliefs about God indicate that she did not feel that her faith alone was fit for the religious invocation of angels, but the poem does allude to the potential of a “we” who do believe and with whom she might join and be comforted. There is no doubt that this memorial to the death of a daughter struck a chord. In 1800 these lines appeared on twenty-seven-year-old Asena Whitney’s gravestone in the Harvard Burial Grounds in Boston. Asena died in childbirth, and her daughter died eight months later and was buried next to her. In 1820 the poem again appeared in America in both the Boston Centinel and the Washington Whig, under the title “On the Death of a Little Daughter,” and “Frances,” rather than Harriet’s name, was invoked. For nearly four decades after her death, Harriet was immortalized in America with this poem, inspiring members of other families to have faith in the comfort of heaven.86 Hopefully heaven did provide Lennox some comfort, yet there was no way of erasing the unbearable grief of losing the blood relation who was her most kindred spirit. Lennox’s son, George Louis Lennox, had a very different kind of public presence. At six years old, in 1777, he was boarding at an academy during the week and spending the weekends with his mother. Lennox wrote to Lydia Clerke about her happiness that “My dear little boy is always with me from Saturday til Sunday evening, when he returns to the Academy of which – young as he is, he is the ornament, and delight.”87 This letter exudes maternal pride, and yet Lennox was aware, as all mothers are, that her son was not always delightful. She told Johnson that when he visited her that she would “take care you shall not be tried with the noise of my little boy, who I am sensible was very troublesome when you was here.”88 This description of George Louis suggests many possible sleights of hand by Lennox (rather than simple misbehaviour). Lennox may have felt called upon by social expectations to account for her son’s noisiness to someone who did not have a great deal of experience with children; she may have felt vaguely ashamed of him; she may have even been boasting (ever so slightly) of his energy. Lennox’s description of her George may have included all of these feelings. It does not necessarily mean that he was radically different from other boys, or that Lennox did not find him delightful. Although, of course, he might not have been the delight of his school. Yet what we can see here is a realistic picture of a mother’s negotiation of her role as mother, alongside her role as friend and professional. In 1783, at eleven and twelve, George entered the literary marketplace with what seemed to be great literary prospects, since he was described as a “promising scholar.”89 Every month from June to December 1783, publications with his name under them – eight poems and one novella – appeared in the British Magazine and Review. Another poem attributed to him came out in April of 1784

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in the Edinburgh Weekly Magazine, as well as a novella in 1786 in the New Novelist’s Magazine. Of course, it is entirely possible that Lennox helped George Louis with these poems and stories, or even wrote them herself – their content definitely seems beyond the scope of the average eleven-year-old boy’s experience and imagination, though George may have been a uniquely mature child. During the 1780s, Lennox did not publish any titles under her own name, and after being so prolific over the past three decades, this raises questions. It could be that the loss of her daughter plunged her into a depression that made completing pieces she was proud of very difficult, or perhaps too many of her literary relationships ended because of quarrels or death. It is also possible that Lennox grew weary of negoti­ ating her profits not only with the booksellers and theatre managers but also with her husband. Whether George Louis composed these pieces on his own, whether Lennox wrote them and attributed them to her son, or whether they were a joint effort will have to remain open for debate. Lennox and her son’s circumstances at this point could have required a new plan. Harriet had recently died, and they were reeling from grief. Almost none of Lennox’s correspondence survives from this decade, and her literary activity is described only in a letter to Dodsley from 1784 offering him “a work of the novel kind, which I sketched out some years ago, and which I have since been employed upon at different times.”90 However, it remains unknown what this “work” was, and it does not seem to have reached fruition. In addition, Lennox’s eyesight was severely compromised, as she was forced to “shape [her] letters merely by guess.”91 In this situation, she may have come up with the plan of creating interest by releasing poems by the young son of a well-known author. What would have been considered overly sentimental and unoriginal poems from an established author would have been thought a curiosity when written by an eleven-year-old boy. The first publication was “Elegy, in Imitation of Shenstone, on Mrs. Yates. Written by Master George Lenox, at Eleven Years of Age,”92 which appeared in various newspapers in London and Edinburgh in June and July 1783. Imitation poems would have been part of a young boy’s education, but an elegy expressing passionate love for the fifty-five-year-old actress Mrs Yates, his mother’s friend (who was still alive) was unique. Many of the other poems and the two novellas also invoke passion between young lovers as the primary emotional element: suicide because of a lover’s death,93 grief over a lover who ended his own life,94 retirement to a convent as penance for giving in to passion,95 a prayer by a young man to spare his lover because of her virtue,96 a murder to keep another from giving in to passion,97 and a commendation for honour in speaking truth to power and protecting a friend from licentious pursuits.98 In addition, all eight of the poems are in some way concerned with death. Some associate mortality with sexual love, but others deal with it by honouring a proto-feminist sister who has

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died,99 recognizing that being guilty and haunted is better than being dead,100 and exploring the agonies of a mother when her child dies young.101 Another one of the poems ends with the message that patriotic honour has the power to make a poet immortal.102 Many of the titles debate which is better, to live or to die. If we want to believe that the poems were written by George Louis, we can argue that George may have been a particularly philosophical eleven-year-old: having lost his older sister would undoubtedly have had a deep emotional and existential impact. However, there is still a lingering question about Lennox’s part in the writing of these works, and it is certainly likely that she played a major role in ushering them into publication, since she had the contacts necessary to do so. Regardless of whether she or George was the author of these eleven titles, their publication constitutes another example of Lennox’s awareness of, and manoeuvring within, the literary marketplace. Many of the pieces went on to have extended lives as reprints in various magazines from 1783 until 1787, and Annette: A Fairy Tale was reprinted as late as 1804, the year of Lennox’s death.103 After the first four poems had been published, the British Magazine and the Edinburgh Weekly Magazine ran an anonymous poem titled “Verses, Occasioned by Repeatedly Seeing the Astonishing Poetical Productions of Master George Louis Lennox, Aged Only Eleven Years; Without a Single Couplet from Congenial Merit, in Praise of a Genius which was Perhaps Never Equalled at the Same Age.” This exuberant, and sarcastic, poem about how this “living genius” is satisfying the country’s need for youthful poets addresses what must have been a well-known suspicion about George’s authorship. “Nurture young genius; nor suspect its power / Lest mean suspicion blast the promis’d flower.” It ends on an invocation not to ignore George’s young talent or “let our little floweret droop and die!”104 Some must have wondered who was really responsible for these poems. Yet, by 1784 George was well known for, or was allowed credit for, his “talents for English poetry” and “as an eminent literary character.”105 There was even a plan underway to collect money for his compensation, which could have been used to pay for further schooling. As the British Magazine claimed (perhaps in a fit of self-promotion), he had become something of a phenomenon: The number of poems, on various subjects, this young gentleman has written, is truly surprising: nor is the uncommon genius of this extraordinary youth by any means confined to versification; his familiar letters to his friends are pregnant with good sense, as well as remarkably accurate; and he has actually compleated at least one dramatic piece, which is far from being ill conducted, and contains some lively strokes of genuine wit, superior to what we can discover in some of the entertainments lately produced at our Theatres Royal.106

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These productions – no letters or drama survive under his name – would presumably have served as outstanding credentials for George’s acceptance into a good school, yet neither his literary celebrity nor the support of the Reverend Thomas Winstanley was enough for him to be accepted into the prestigious Tonbridge School in Kent, run by Vicesimus Knox, where Lennox hoped to enrol him. The school was already quite heavily subscribed, so perhaps for this reason George was not allowed entry. Finances could have been another obstacle: Knox explained that his fees could be paid per quarter: Music 1s 1p; Dancing 15s; Drawing 12s 6p; French 15s; Fencing 1s 1p; Writing and Arithmetic, 10s 6p. If George had subscribed in all of these courses, the total cost would have been two pounds fifteen shillings and tuppence. Furthermore, Knox had recently published his popular Liberal Education, which cautioned against impertinent and pedantic women, novel reading, and circulating libraries, so he may not have been thrilled about the prospect of such a woman – an author of novels no less – sending her child to his school.107 In any case, no records exist to show if George did attend Tonbridge, or any other school. The last of the poems published in 1783 under the name “Master George Louis Lenox,” “Verses to a Young Married Lady, Who Regretted the Want of Children,” is especially notable, as it addresses a young woman’s desire to have a child. The poet rehearses the experience of motherhood, starting with the anxiety of childbirth. The angel-faced child and his growing virtues bring joy, but then his virtues are felled by disease. The boy miraculously survives, but that means more worries for the mother. When the son reaches the age of eighteen, he is about to join the military and abandon his mother, but is fortuitously exempted. However, since he is heir to an “easy fortune,” he succumbs to pleasure and misapplies his virtues. The poem ends: He is not tender now, but loose; No longer generous, but profuse. Now charm’d by women, now by play, His health, his fortune, cast away, The ruin’d youth his mistress flies; The friends who shar’d his wealth, despise; And, worn by grief and pain, he dies!108

This is a depressing account of the travails of motherhood, but it is also almost comic in its rote sentimentality and versification; it thus seems believable that it was written by an imaginative teenager. It is also somewhat prophetic of Lennox’s own heartbreak later when George became a young adult. By his early twenties, her son was no longer associated with virtue and wisdom. Instead, he apparently

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resorted to criminal activities. The circumstances of his troubles are not clear; however, he likely had several encounters with the law. For one, news of a “felony” in London reported on 5 November 1792 seems to refer to Lennox’s son: [A] man calling himself GEORGE LEWIS LENNOX, and affecting to be a Lieutenant in the 60th Regiment of Foot, now in the West Indies, stands charged with feloniously stealing at the La Sablonière Hotel in Leicester-square, sixty six Guineas in gold, and a quantity of Shirts, Cravats, and Stockings, the property of Henry Sheares and John Sheares. Whoever will apprehend and secure him, or give such information at the above Office, as may be the means of apprehending him, shall receive a reward of TWENTY GUINEAS on his commitment to prison from the said Henry and John Sheares. The said George Lewis Lennox is about five feet six inches high, brown short hair, swarthy complexion, strong and well made, rather round shouldered, a mole near his left eye; is about the age of 21 years; sometimes wears a red coat, but had on when he went away a blue regimental coat [illegible] with red, green body coat lined with buff, and black cape red waistcoat, dark coloured pantaloon breeches, and half boots edged with yellow.109

There is no reference to George’s famous mother here, and of course Lennox was a fairly common name, but Lennox’s son would have been about twenty-one years old in 1792. Furthermore, less than a year later, in August 1793, a George Lewis Lennox was twice convicted for fraud in Aberdeen, and this same person drew a draft “on a Mrs. Lennox, London.”110 Again, there is no clear evidence for this individual’s maternity, but it is entirely possible that Lennox’s son may have been in Scotland to help establish his father’s earldom or to find work through his father’s family connections. That same month, in August 1793, when Lennox applied to the Royal Literary Fund for financial assistance, she mentioned (without specifying) George’s misbehaviour, partly blaming it on the absence of his “unnatural” father, who she claimed had “deserted” him.111 She had a plan, but it required funds that she did not have. With few options, Lennox had to breach etiquette, admit her embarrassment, and write to a man she did not know personally to again beg for help from the Royal Literary Fund. Here, she elaborates: It is with great confusion that I take the liberty to importune you, who know me only by name, with this application and my distress may be easily imagined, when it forces me to break through decorums which I always wished to observe – but I am a mother, and see an only child upon the brink of utter ruin. Driven as he was first, to desperation by a most unnatural father; and then deserted, and left exposed to all the evils that may well be expected from the dreadful circumstances he is in – I would preserve

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him if I could – Alas! I do not pretend to excuse his fault, but if his story was candidly told, that fault great as it is, would with the severest judge meet compassion as well as blame. I have in vain used my utmost endeavours to mortgage the poor income I hold from a husband, whose fortune I have made by the sacrifice of my own,112 in order to raise money to send this unfortunate Youth to my relations in the United States of America, who will receive him kindly … the last ship that will go to America till next March will sail in a week.113 – the money for the passage must be paid before he goes on board, and the very lowest terms that are offered are out of my reach …114

Lennox’s desperation, her “great confusion,” is palpable in this letter. In fact, it is only the second time in all of her extant correspondence that she signs a letter “obedient.” It also shows us that she had maintained some family relationships in America, which she referred to correctly as “the United States of America.” This could have been her sister or her sister’s children. The RLF gave Lennox thirteen pounds thirteen shillings for the express purpose of paying for George’s passage. Their minutes reflect a concern that George, left to his own devices, might be tempted to take the money and run. They noted that “care be taken that the money be given to the captain himself, who is to take him over; but if her son should stay in England, the money [should] be returned to the society.”115 With his mother’s portrait in his bag, George emigrated to America at the end of August 1793, probably on the last boat to leave England that year. He likely arrived in Norfolk, Virginia and went on to Baltimore.116 In May of 1794 he was receiving mail in Philadelphia, and perhaps he had settled into a satisfying American life.117 Lennox’s children’s difficulties weighed heavily on her. Harriet’s early death was tragic. The country that had formed Lennox into an adult and figured prominently in her writing was now the place where she was forced to send her only son. Since she could not save him, she had to hope that this new country would. Lennox must have heard that George had settled in Philadelphia. By April of 1794 she was hopeful that her heartache would soon pass and she would have a “taste of peace before I die.”118 At sixty-five, Lennox had lost her husband, her daughter was dead, and her son was away across the Atlantic Ocean. Though her mortality was becoming ever more apparent, she was feeling healthy. To her credit, and with her usual fortitude and optimism, she did not sink back into a solitary life. In fact, she may have been repeating to herself the encouragement that she had offered her friend Lydia Clerke. Giving way to grief, “[a]miable as it is,” only hurts your health more. “Patience under inevitable evils is not more an act of duty, than necessity.” In the absence of familial relationships, she suppressed her grief and out of “necessity” pursued those friendships that she had cultivated over her lifetime for companionship and intellectual engagement. She did not want her friends to praise her

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duty, but to see her as rationally responding to the “inevitable.” Her dynamic spirit was essential in the last years of her life, when grinding loneliness could have consumed her and duty would have seemed less attractive. The sincere friendship of many was an inestimable comfort, and in fact kept her memory alive long after she was gone.

Chapter Twelve

“A Pen That Conferred Immortality” 1778–1804

I have always had the honour of being numbered among the Triflers; my mother, my grand-mother, and my grand mother’s mother, were all Triflers before me … By the advantage of a strong memory, diligently stored with repeated narratives, I have an exact knowledge of the whole succession of Trifles, which have engaged the elegant and gay for two centuries and a half. (Penelope Spindle, in Lady’s Museum, 3:161–2)

On 2 May 1775, Alexander stood waiting for Johnson to pen a piece of correspondence. In fact, Alexander was urging Johnson to respond to his wife. Her words are now lost; however, Johnson’s thoughts remain. In her letter, Lennox must have described her concerns about not getting enough support to publish Original Works. She was distraught. Alexander had delivered the originating letter, and now he refused to leave without Johnson’s answer. Lennox thought the reason for the slow rate at which she was acquiring subscriptions for her Original Works was because people had an unfavourable opinion of her. As we have seen, she was unwilling to fully embrace the expectation that women should be passive and agreeable. She even named this fault, and Johnson quoted it back to her when he returned the letter. He began: “As to your being …” but the following word or phrase was struck out.1 Whatever the expurgated descriptor was, it undoubtedly illustrated how Lennox thought the public perceived her manners. Here we see Lennox attempting to understand what the public thought of her. What could she expect from them? She certainly found personal comfort in Johnson’s belief in her, and his response now was critical. In this stand-off we see Alexander’s understanding of the situation. Lennox might have been afraid that Johnson was ignoring her as well, or that he would take a very long time to respond.

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Lennox’s impulse to be remembered by the public was the impetus for trying to dedicate her Original Works to the queen and have them published with Strahan. Around the same time, in another letter to Johnson, she wrote, “permit me only to hint that … it is of great consequence to me to have the book presented to Her Majesty before I am quite forgot.”2 The idea that she might be remembered by future generations was seductive. On a more prosaic level, this statement might have indicated that she wanted cash or remuneration of some kind and did not want to be forgotten when the time came to dole out money; however, as an author she could imagine her immortality not only through her progeny, but also through her publications. If she could live on in her works, her life of struggle would hold far greater significance and perhaps even make the personal suffering bearable. If her manners were unladylike, she knew her celebrity would be short lived. However, she was torn about how much she wanted others, even those close to her, to know how much ageless esteem mattered to her. Even to her long-time friend Johnson, she was willing “only to hint” at the potential of being remembered long after she was dead. As her husband stood waiting for his answer, Johnson understood the significance of his response. He wanted to be encouraging. In his haste he quoted the word Lennox used to describe herself. As to your being a [xxxx 1 word ], that concerns only your intimates and cannot operate upon the Subscriptions. Your manners as far as the publick needs to know, are very elegant and ladylike.3

The public was only concerned with her manners, which she had succeeded in demonstrating to be sufficiently feminine and polite. Her less desirable personal characteristics had only been revealed to her “intimates,” and Johnson did not believe that this particular fault was affecting her failure to get support now. He kept writing, and his letter was full of encouragement to keep sending out proposals, “without expressing large expectations,” to potential subscribers. She was respected, and he predicted her overall literary greatness “probably to an eminent degree.” He also ended his letter with the postscript, “I think you will succeed.” Whatever the expurgated word was, it was not a favourable descriptor in polite society. Johnson did not like it. Before he finished the letter he crossed it out thoroughly enough to make it illegible, and wrote instead, “pretty trifler upon occasion.” Whatever the fault that Lennox had originally written, Johnson did not want to repeat it in this letter. He decided that “pretty trifler upon occasion” was better. She could be unusual, but only occasionally and only in private.4 Lennox kept this letter. It would have encouraged her, but it also encapsulates the tension she continually experienced between who she was and who she needed

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to be. At the top of the letter, in her own handwriting, is a hastily scribbled note: “Doctor Johnson may be published.”5 In writing this, Lennox reveals thoughts of a future time in which their correspondence could be of interest to the public. Her memory as an author in the English canon, one who had successfully negotiated polite and professional society, was important to her; and she hoped her memory would be vital to posterity. An Author for the Nation Whatever Lennox understood to be her potentially damning fault, incriminating facts about her personal or professional life have never surfaced. Whatever her private failings were, they did not have a negative effect on her national reputation. Her reappearance in the magazines, through her poetry, reprints of her titles, and biographies of her life, was one of several ways she maintained her career and possibly earned a “little income” after the success of Old City Manners in 1775 had subsided. Some of her poetry was reprinted in 1778 in the Muse’s Mirror. However, in May of 1782 (at the age of fifty-three), writing had become extremely difficult, as she had “a violent inflammation in [her] eyes, which … left them so weak.” Lennox therefore petitioned for and received patronage from Lord Rockingham, the son of Lady Mary Rockingham who may have been in the house at some points while Lennox lived there as a girl. However, Rockingham died less than two months later, and no payments are recorded.6 Lennox also worked to generate an income with the publication of the first illustrated Female Quixote, which was published in 1783. “Mrs. Lennox” finally appeared on a title page. This beautifully illustrated edition shows just how firmly established Lennox’s female version of Don Quixote had become. Lennox was embracing the full extent of her identity as an author and writing when she could. In addition to whatever writing she might have been doing with or for George, she was also working on her final major project, a novel that would allow her to share her childhood experiences in America, and to advocate for greater cultural awareness among British occupying forces abroad. Euphemia may also have helped her work through some of her grief over her daughter’s death. Not long after this immense loss, Lennox pitched her idea to Dodsley in 1784. She suggests “a work of the novel kind, which I sketched out some years ago, and which I have since been employed upon at different times.”7 She may not have settled on the name of her protagonist until she got to know Boswell’s second daughter, Euphemia,8 who was nine years younger than Lennox’s daughter, Harriet. It is not likely that Lennox met Euphemia until the Boswells moved from Scotland to London in 1784, soon after Johnson’s death. Euphemia was sixteen when Lennox’s

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novel with her namesake heroine was published in 1790. The ancient Greek name Euphemia was a popular Scottish name of the period and meant “to speak well.” Boswell cherished it, as his mother and a woman who “entirely captivated” him at the age of twenty-five were both named Euphemia.9 Lennox chose this name for the wise heroine of her last novel, perhaps also to honour her own Scottish roots. She must have worked on this long novel, perhaps with increasingly failing eyesight, over the course of this decade. It was not published until 1790. As Lennox wrote, she was also being celebrated. Some of her contemporaries appreciated her understanding of a rapidly changing England, one that no longer held sway over America, as well as her respected female voice. In 1783 at least three biographies of Lennox appeared in the magazines, the place where honour for a national hero would most likely be celebrated by the widest range of social classes. In 1788, Lennox was included in The Catalogue of Five Hundred Celebrated Authors of Great Britain. In 1787–8, in the New Lady’s Magazine, the “Lady’s Librarian” considered Lennox’s works to be important reading for women, along with Shakespeare, Dryden, and Pope. In 1790, the nineteenyear-old Scot, James Montgomery, who went on to become a successful poet, editor, and humanitarian, was trying to launch a literary career in London and was mesmerized to run into Lennox at Harrison’s bookshop at 18/19 Paternoster Row, where she was “an occasional visitor.” Lennox was kind to the young man, as she “made him welcome and gave him importance.”10 Montgomery was excited by the novelty of meeting his “first literary lady,” and “his curiosity was stimulated by her history and her appearance.” Perhaps flattered by the young man’s enthusiasm, the sixty-one-year-old Lennox allowed him to escort her to her carriage in the street.11 To be recognized in public by a young man who hoped to achieve her level of fame some day must have pleased Lennox. Even late in her life, she was recognized in the London streets, and her work influenced a future author and activist. Later in life, Montgomery campaigned to abolish slavery and the exploitation of chimney sweeps. Lennox enjoyed thinking about her impact on the world of letters. In her later years, with shaky handwriting, she privately transcribed, on pages she kept for herself, several poems that appeared throughout her career as a kind of meditation on her public life.12 These poems praised her writing skill, incisive perception, intelligence, and national celebrity. In selecting these, Lennox also gave us a sense of how she would like to be remembered. Revelling in the suggestion that she should be emulated, specifically because she was critical, Lennox transcribed an anonymous poem that drew attention to her status as “the British Sappho,” a wise female leader.13 It highlighted how she was inspired by the “tuneful Nine … to form her moral lay,” while they retired in “the

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soft shades” of an alcove in Richmond Gardens. The poem celebrated Lennox’s “malice so witty” and “satire so keen.” With “that blaze in her eye” she wounded, while the pits in her face cooled. In this poem Lennox was distinguished from the eight other “Living Muses,” referring to Richard Samuel’s Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, as the moral one who ignored other women’s jealousy and did not rest from critiquing her society. Another poem that Lennox transcribed had been sent to her unsigned and also celebrated her status as one of the nine.14 This poet reported or imagined seeing Lennox on horseback, riding through Windsor Forest. Lennox here is referred to again as the “Goddess Clio,” one of the nine and known as the “Muse of History.” The poet would have worshipped her, “but she fled my sight.” Another anonymous poem collected by Lennox, with “Copied from a Magazine” written on it, also celebrated her wisdom as a “Sapphick Muse,” one who both refined the nation and the individual.15 In 1750 this poet had reflected on reading poems Lennox published in her early teens. What impressed this writer was that Lennox refined the nation’s manners by publishing her works, not simply by writing.16 The poet emphasized Lennox’s “purer fires / While thy bright eyes into our souls convey / The sweet distress of thy melodious Lay.” We can imagine Lennox copying this poem late in her life, reflecting on her career and remembering when, just after she published Harriot Stuart, this celebration of her “purer fires” appeared and boosted her confidence. Representing Intimacy For Lennox, copying these laudatory poems was also a kind of recovery act. She was well aware of the larger public scepticism surrounding the value of woman writers, and replicating these poems reminded her of her public importance. It was her attempt, vain (in both senses) as it may have been, to carry herself into posterity. This act perhaps also motivated her eventually to publish Euphemia. Lennox was wise to keep her personal life private while thriving in the public sphere. In doing so she was able to craft her own story through her creative work. She used her pen to create an intellectual legacy that shone a light on injustice and advocated agency. Now well known as an author who addressed important English concerns, Lennox set her final, longest, and most mature novel, Euphemia, in both England and colonial New York.17 In doing so, she acknowledged the particularly tense times it would be addressing. Between 1776 and 1804, the possibility of revolution loomed large over four continents. One pamphleteer explains, “over half the globe, all men utter but one cry, they share but one desire.” Humanity was rising up with one voice to demand liberty. As Janet Polasky demonstrates, “The Atlantic world had never been as tightly interconnected as at the end of the eighteenth century … [and] revolutionaries staked their claim to the rights of man.”18

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Lennox addressed these concerns through a narrative that articulates the intimate relationship between the domestic and the political. Published after the American Revolution, in 1790, when Lennox was sixty-one years old, Euphemia was twice the length of any of her previous novels. Her development as a novelist can be seen in the distance between the novels set in America that bookend her career. Harriot Stuart was primarily an amatory adventure novel; her last novel is far more political. It combines a meditation on the key roles of a woman’s life – marriage, parenthood, and friendship – with a confrontation with the perils of cultural subordination and domination. It is also a perceptive portrayal of the complexities of intercultural relationships, both international and personal, as they are constructed through letters, many of which are sent across the Atlantic between Euphemia in America and her lifelong friend Maria in England. Many factors had slowed Lennox’s writing in the decade before Euphemia was published. Her illnesses – including severe anxiety – increased, as did her poverty. Also, the death of her daughter, close friends, and patrons depressed her. Many worried that Lennox was now too sick to produce another title, and her memoir in the British Magazine in 1783 reported: It is with real pain we feel ourselves obliged to add, that this lady’s ill state of health forbids us to expect many future productions from her elegant pen; though we have, at the same time, some reason to hope, that she will yet favour the world with at least one or two other performances which she has long had in contemplation.19

Yet Lennox’s mind was still active, and she felt the urgency to put into narrative form ideas that she knew needed public expression. Although she also needed money, she continued to be interested in the question of moral and political agency. In the later part of the eighteenth century, radicals in England led an important shift away from demands for the historic rights of Englishmen only, and towards a fiercer promotion of the natural rights of all.20 The American experiment sought to establish cheap, honest, and peaceful government and allowed more religious toleration. At least at times, British public sympathy for the colonies was deeper than it was for their own British government.21 British historian J.H. Plumb explains: It was only to be expected that sympathy towards America should be rarest amongst those who were content with the fabric of British society – the aristocrats, gentry, government officers, admirals, generals, lawyers and ecclesiastics, and that it should be strongest amongst those new men – the industrial and aggressive commercial classes – to whom the future belonged. The extent of that sympathy was much wider,

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the identity of their interests with America much closer, than has been generally believed.22

In fact, five years before Euphemia was published, Richard Price, philosopher and dissenting preacher, identified a “revolution in favour of universal liberty which has taken place in America, a revolution which opens a new prospect in human affairs, and begins a new era in the history of mankind.”23 Lennox illustrated this “new prospect” and “new era” by setting half of her novel Euphemia in “the wilds of America,” where different cultural identities allowed for varying beliefs about gender, politics, and economics. Lennox’s novel then explores tensions and appreciations between Iroquois, Hurons, Mohawks, Dutch, French, and British – all trying to live on contested land, “a new and savage world.” At the same time, Lennox was part of a creative effort to connect beliefs about the family and expectations of the state. She had begun this quest in Harriot Stuart, and Euphemia was her crowning achievement towards realizing this goal. In the eighteenth century the family and the state were often imaginatively yoked together as one. John Locke had challenged conservative models of the father/king, suggesting that “Conjugal Society is made by a voluntary Compact between Man and Woman … and in this power the mother too has her share with the Father.”24 Revolutionaries invoked Locke to point to the problem between England and America, thus rejecting the heavy hand of patriarchy. Lennox’s novel can be read as a challenge to this patriarchal structure, and thus in its own implicit way a revolutionary narrative. As Lennox wrote Euphemia, it would have been impossible not to think about her own life in America and her relatives who had lived there and possibly still did. What if she had stayed in America? The novel grapples with the roles in which most women found themselves – wife and mother – and shows how in both roles women had little control. However, on a larger scale Euphemia highlights how personal relationships become clouded with the complexities inherent in particular roles and identities. It also struggles with the reality of individuals accepting or rejecting each other based on group identifications or acts of duty, rather than through acts of genuine care. In its representation of these internal and international struggles, the narrative of Euphemia at times appears to be clumsily designed, but actually the story decodifies expected narrative connections, like the captivity narrative, and defamiliarizes the conventions of encounter. In doing so, Lennox estranges readers from assumptions about how those living in America relate to one another. She attunes her reader to foundational communication problems that undergird imperialism, making her readers sceptical not only about routine contacts between the English and Native Americans in North America but also about the contact between colonists (or those with colonial experience)

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and those who remain in Britain. The result in Euphemia is a kind of transatlantic double consciousness – both desiring genuine understanding and questioning whether that is possible.25 Although Euphemia was written when the United States was already independent, Lennox set the action during the period when the British still controlled it. This epistolary novel, of Euphemia and her school friend Maria, details how Euphemia’s husband, Neville, forces her to go to America because he believes he will improve his status and finances there. Euphemia experiences America in the company of the wise Mrs Benson, who was her governess and stays on without pay to become her faithful companion in adulthood, and other Brits of varying degrees of understanding. She reports on her encounters with people from many different cultures, but her most extensive encounters are with Dutch and Mohawk people. The correspondence focuses on just action over egocentric deeds and builds to the ultimate tragedy – because of Neville’s selfishness – the disappearance of their son, Edward. The novel concludes with the discovery that Edward has been cared for by Hurons and Jesuits, and he is returned in excellent condition. On their homecoming in England, Euphemia is rewarded for her wisdom, kindness, and forbearance. Euphemia is a reflection on subordination versus domination, ultimately suggesting the need for equality and authentic mutual respect in both personal and national relationships. It provides especially striking examples of how completely women participate in their own subordination. Yet it also articulates how humans have no recourse but to work from within their own frame of reference. Euphemia explains to Maria that it is difficult for her to describe to someone back in decorum-bound England what she sees as she arrives in America, noting that “a mind … actuated” simply “by lawful passions” is a limited one.26 Based on her experiences in America, she is forced to challenge her own assumptions and expectations, as well as the rules of behaviour that she has come to accept. Marriage, a microcosm of the controls imposed by larger social systems, is one of the conventions that Euphemia interrogates. Euphemia, the wise woman caught in a bad marriage, insists regularly, as was the rhetoric of the day, that submission is essential. However, the narrative itself challenges this obedience rhetoric by showing just what it meant in a woman’s daily life. Euphemia’s story begins with submission to her dying mother’s wish that she be secured in marriage. Though she has been an heiress to a large fortune, her father has “become possessed of the great riches [her] uncle had acquired in the Indies, [and] he plunged deep into all the fashionable excesses of the age,” dying insolvent.27 In effect, the plunder of the British Empire has ruined Euphemia’s father. In her innocence, she promises her mother that she will “teach my heart to love” Mr Neville, a man her mother believes to be financially stable.28 In marrying Neville, however, Euphemia has to

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obey this status-hungry man who misleads her mother. When her mother dies, he exchanges his half-pay as a captain to a reduced company of foot in England to become a first lieutenant in America.29 Yet going abroad makes little sense to Euphemia, and she tries to convince Neville that they can live a simple, happy life in England. I thought it necessary to represent to Mr Neville, that in the present state of our circumstances, prudence required we should adopt some plan of living less expensive, and more suitable to our income. I took care to avoid giving this discourse the air of advice; I even complimented his tenderness.30

However, Neville will not hear of another plan, saying, “I cannot submit to alter my mode of living … and I cannot continue it without involving myself in difficulties – there is no help for it – we must go abroad.”31 Neville is attached to status and a high standard of living. However, Euphemia’s own lack of financial stability – precipitated by his spending her five-hundred-pound inheritance, without consulting her, on their passage to America – requires that she accompany him. There she learns of another form of domination, the European occupation of America, embodied in her own husband’s leadership posts in the British military, as well as in his actions and beliefs. On every subject he is “diseased with opinion.”32 Her reflections on the British occupation of America convey Lennox’s meditations on Britain’s current role in the newly independent country. Lennox skilfully shows the linkage between Euphemia’s misguided marriage and the British in America as she reports what Euphemia’s mother would have felt if she had witnessed her daughter’s current life. “Heaven spared her this affliction … I should not now grieve so much for her death, as rejoice in her exemption from an evil which she might not perhaps have borne with her usual fortitude.”33 Here Lennox refers to Euphemia’s marriage as “an evil,” condemning Neville’s deception, guided by self-interested ambition. Like British control over America, the Neville marriage disintegrates under the sheer weight of unbridled self-interest and domination. Early in their union, there are moments in which Euphemia’s husband is tender. However, his selfish, opinionated, and misguided ways drive a deeper rift between them. Before arriving in New York, Euphemia has had doubts about the presence of the British in America. She must resolve herself to a move that is entirely dictated by her husband’s insatiable desire for respect. Yet she knows that respect does not come from money or position, and that her husband deserves no respect, either in America or in England, noting that “A clown in his gilt chariot will be still a clown.” When she hints at the problem of caring only about one’s status, he calls this expression of her thoughts “a liberty not to be endured in a woman and a wife.”34 Throughout the novel Neville repeatedly silences Euphemia.

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Neville’s authoritarian ways also create conflict with his British comrades and ultimately with the indigenous Americans. As a British first lieutenant and later a colonel, Neville is part of the imperialist force. His violent rivalry with another lieutenant makes it necessary for the Nevilles to move from Albany to the little town of Schenectady, inhabited by Dutch traders, their allies the Iroquois, and other, more hostile Native tribes. For Euphemia this means leaving her close friends behind. She explains, whether impelled by that restlessness of temper, which makes every change, even for the worse, desireable; or the strange pride, of being greatest where all is little, I know not, but Mr. Neville is fixd on this resolution; and when he acquainted me with the approaching change in my situation, it was not to hear my opinion, to ask my advice, or to sooth me into a consent, but barely to signify his will to me; to which I offered no opposition, well knowing that it would produce no other effect, but ill humour, and unjust reproach.35

Because of Neville’s domination, Euphemia feels trapped. Fortunately she has Mrs Benson, her “Socratina,”36 a female Socrates, to whom she can turn. Mrs Benson assures her that she will be happier if Neville is happy and that she cannot “violat[e] that obedience which you have solemnly vowed at the altar.” However, her most useful advice comes from the seventeenth-century clergyman Jeremy Taylor: “He that composes his spirit to the present accident” will not be troubled “because his desires are not at war with his present fortune.”37 Mrs Benson’s wisdom emphasizes how little control Euphemia actually has over her own life. Obedience is simply pragmatic, not virtuous. The truth is that Euphemia and Neville are both happier when they are apart. This novel presents other characters who, like her husband, travel to America for their own gain. For example, Mrs Mountfort uses America as a way to boost her family’s own status, ignoring the difficulties the British have caused the Dutch and the Native Americans, and convinces herself that “a new Arcadia was to rise amidst the wilds of America.”38 These motives of self-improvement are repeatedly revealed as selfish rather than laudable when characters approach their new surroundings with superiority rather than curiosity. Engaging with Difference Euphemia’s resolution “to turn philosopher” gives her distance to observe other marriages, and in fact the world around her, more objectively. She is a scholar, not a meddler. For instance, her friend Maria’s courtship with Mr Harley runs parallel to Euphemia’s life with Neville. In the end Maria chooses Harley, who “ma[kes]

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up in respect what [she] wanted in tenderness,” because he is good, not because she is in love with him.39 The model match in the novel is Clara, Colonel Bellenden’s youngest daughter, and Euston, a British gentleman who has a thoughtful appreciation for the Native Americans, with whom he has lived. Clara has “a lively wit and a cultivated understanding,”40 and Euston is the most knowledgeable and culturally aware character in the novel. Clara and Euston’s relationship is based on principles of equality, which Euphemia deeply admires and which the narrative privileges in noting that even Colonel Bellenden, Clara’s father, “preferred an easy independence for his daughter, with a man of his character, to the superior advantages of birth and fortune, clogged with the absurdities of Mr. C – ,” a garish and egocentric suitor.41 The story of Mrs Freeman, an admired boarding-school friend of Euphemia and Maria, serves as a contrast to Clara and Euston’s companionate marriage. Her sad saga of being controlled by her husband is not so much a cautionary tale as further evidence of the double bind of unquestioning obedience. Mrs Freeman’s story emphasizes how women are in fact not free and cannot find liberty when they focus on money. Her husband loses his employment, but wants to maintain a certain level of status. “Estimat[ing] the proportion fit for us,” he puts their oldest daughter out to service.42 Although Mrs Freeman tries to do the right thing, she is condemned in the narrative for not challenging her culture’s mores. As Euphemia reflects on the plights of other married women, the narrative explicitly details her own sufferings in marriage. When Euphemia’s lost son is found near the end of the novel, Mrs Benson quotes her favourite philosopher, the early empiricist Francis Bacon, to show how opposite Euphemia’s mind is from her husband’s: Mr. Neville, by his eagerness to gratify his own inclinations, to which he sacrificed even the appearance of tenderness for the most deserving of women, will be sometime longer before he partakes the happiness she now enjoys. A selfish person, our great Bacon compares to the earth, which stands fast only on its own centre; whereas, all things that have affinity with the heavens, move upon the centre of another, which they benefit – Such is the difference between their two minds.43

Neville’s happiness is greatly diminished by keeping himself at the centre. Euphemia, in contrast, is not bound only to her own pleasure, but rather gives her attention to others. That is, she is not preoccupied with herself, neither her image nor her opinions. Neville’s selfishness culminates at the end of the novel when they return to England, where his uncle is dying. Euphemia cares for the uncle while Neville pursues “pleasure and amusement.” Mrs Benson, who again quotes Bacon to describe Neville, explains, “A man … who has no virtue in himself, is sure to

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decry virtue in others; for men’s minds will either feed upon their own good, or upon others evil; and he who wants the one, will prey upon the other.”44 Bacon is suggesting that men who lack goodness not only seek out, but then consume, the good of others. This is a reference to Neville the imperialist, who comes to the New World to “feed upon” the good of this land, as his own country has not given him what he wanted, namely status and money. In contrast, Euphemia is characterized as morally upstanding through her ability to nurture relationships and her attempt to understand the other cultures she encounters. By the end of the novel, Euphemia and Neville are functioning in entirely separate worlds. When their son speaks of his mother’s powerful influence on his reason, Neville whistles loudly to drown out his voice. But whistling will not drown out the truth, and Euphemia ultimately prevails with an honourable status and her own money. Her son respects her, and upon her husband’s uncle’s death it is discovered that he has bequeathed her the enormous sum of fifteen thousand pounds, even more than Neville had originally expected, for her sole use and benefit, not subject to the control of her husband, and entirely at her own disposal; that she may have it in her power, as the testator expresses it, to reward her children, “according to the measure of duty and affection she receives from them.”45 Euphemia, who has never expected that this money could be hers, finally has control over the most important aspect of child rearing, in this case her son’s future education. Although marriage is very difficult for Euphemia, motherhood, friendship, and America itself are all sources of pleasure. She celebrates these satisfactions, reporting to Maria about her son’s improvement after being cared for by a Huron woman and by Jesuits after being abducted and taken further north … and away from the influence of his father: [Edward has] every advantage a fond mother can desire, – health, beauty, sweetness of temper, and early reason; a wise and faithful friend at home; some agreeable companions abroad; and a growing taste for the climate, and the wild yet not unpleasing scenes around me.46

Friendship, in fact, replaces marital companionship for Euphemia and is the focal point of the novel. On both continents, she has a number of genuine and wise female, and a few male, friends who see the nuances of life as she does and care for her. She promotes the Aristotelian model of friendship based on goodness,47 which grows to include an appreciation of different cultures. Her intimates, both male and female, are instructive about relating to those from unalike backgrounds, and through them Euphemia becomes more understanding of difference. Maria is the person who is most of one mind with Euphemia, and their separation is the fault of Euphemia’s husband. However, Euphemia comforts

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herself, writing to her friend, “I tell you, my Maria, with such a friendship I can despise ill fortune; and it affords me comforts, which high fortune seldom enjoys.”48 Their separation is quite painful for both of them, and Lennox invokes a song from Hannah More’s play The Search after Happiness to demonstrate Maria’s longing for “sweet solitude,” where she can indulge in “the melancholy reveries of divided friendship – divided but never lessened.”49 Unlike the majority of eighteenth-century novels, which end in marriage, Euphemia and Maria’s discussions centre on women’s lives both preceding and following a wedding. Through their correspondence, they share a longing for a better life, and their letters reveal a tension that is symbolic of a larger political struggle over the definition of a good marital union. Maria is attempting to make a wise choice while she witnesses Euphemia suffering in a bad marriage. Their epistolary conversations illustrate the delicate situation that thoughtful women were in. For example, Maria reports a story to Euphemia about how her uncle and his lifelong friend Mr Greville criticized a woman for her “learned gibberish,” “pedantic stiffness,” and “unintelligible conceit.”50 Mr Harley, Maria’s suitor, complains that men are superfluous in a society of outspoken women: a man makes a silly figure … in company with so learned a Lady, and her Amazonian friend. Talents so masculine, and so ostentatiously displayed, place them above those attentions and assiduities to which the charming sex have so just a claim, and which we delight to pay. Women should always be women; the virtues of our sex are not the virtues of theirs. When Lady Cornelia declaims in Greek, and Miss Sanford vaults into her saddle like another Hotspur, I forget I am in the company with women: the dogmatic critic awes me into silence, and the hardy rider makes my assistance unnecessary.51

Their concern over cutting “a silly figure” next to a learned woman is the core of their discomfort, and thus they justify the need for talents and virtues to have a gender distinction. They worry that learned women will require their own “silence” and make them “unnecessary.” Although the men are threatened by intelligent women, they do still agree that it is possible for a woman to be erudite and still free from pedantry. Harley gives the example of the classical Eleonora, who is “superior to most of our sex in learning, and in gentleness equal to the most gentle of her own.” He opines that “one may converse with her for whole years as a sensible and amiable woman, without discovering her to be a great genius.”52 Obviously, this is the kind of woman that Maria’s uncle and suitor appreciate. They conclude their praise of Eleanora at Maria’s door, where Harley has come to deliver a miniature portrait of Euphemia and a letter from her. In ending the

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men’s conversation in the presence of Maria and the image of Euphemia, the novel shows Maria and Euphemia to be the “great geniuses” of the narrative. However, the women also know that showing too much confidence will only make their lives more difficult. For instance, Mrs Benson, the wisest character in the novel, is acutely aware of the imperative of female humility. Like Maria a constant friend to Euphemia, Mrs Benson nurses her in sickness and travels with her to the distant outpost of Schenectady. Mrs Benson has wealthy relatives; however, her reasons for going into service are not mentioned. Euphemia deeply admires Mrs Benson’s wisdom. When Euphemia asks her to report to Maria about the surprise return of Edward, Mrs Benson worries about how she will tell the story. She explains that “the art of narration, [is one] which so many practice, and so few understand.”53 Mrs Benson is aware of reporting biases and deeply appreciates multiple perspectives. She frequently represents seventeenth-century rationalist philosophy by quoting Bacon, is open-minded about Native Americans, and speaks Dutch, which is immensely useful to their relationship with this majority European group in New York. Because of these qualities, Mrs Benson, not the affecting Mrs Montfort, is first approached with the news that Euphemia’s son, Edward, is not dead. Since he is wearing Native dress, which would have frightened Mrs Montfort, it is best to inform Mrs Benson first. She will not be dramatically startled by this necessarily secret encounter and perhaps compromise Edward’s reunion with Euphemia. In her role as budding philosopher, Euphemia distinguishes those who are discerning from those who are already convinced of their own beliefs and impose them on others. For example, Mrs Benson and Euphemia, with their love of wisdom and ideal friendship, are directly contrasted with Mr Greville, who asserts that most people are primarily interested in the utility of relationships. He insists on a “truth” about how humans behave, and it results in his suspicion of a stranger’s intentions. As Maria is trying to assess her relationship with her potential mother-in-law, Mrs Harvey, and her daughters, Greville explains to her that relationships usually exist purely for selfish ends, rather than to accept others sincerely, “as they are.” All commerce with the world in general, pursued he, is merely amusement, and tends to make one believe that people only meet together to impose upon each other: the reasonable few are friends and see each other as they are; the rest are only acquaintances, and make up one great masquerade.54

Euphemia experiences this kind of imposition first hand with Lady Jackson, who proudly boasts her connections with America, “professe[s] to be an idolater

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of” Euphemia’s character, and understands that Euphemia will reciprocate her superficial version of friendship.55 Euphemia explains: She would be my friend, that is, according to her notion of the thing – a companion in my amusements – one who returns my visits most punctually, never fails to send daily enquiries after my health if I am the least indisposed, and a most strict observer of all the civil duties of life. But by a friend, I mean a witness of the conscience, a physician of secret griefs, a moderator in prosperity, and a guide in adversity. How little are such as she qualified to act that part? But you tell me she styles herself an idolater of my character. A good opinion, it has been said, lays one under an obligation, let it come from whom it will; but it is only truly valuable when it proceeds from the wise, the candid, and the virtuous.56

Euphemia is looking for a different kind of friendship, one that will not just perform the “civil duties” normally required but will wisely and honestly bear witness, comfort, and counsel. She describes her friendship with Maria as one in which “I partake your fears, I am elevated with your hopes, I sympathise with your sorrow, and enjoy your happiness.”57 Whereas Lady Jackson is only interested in being well connected, especially in America, Maria and Euphemia share a more genuine bond, one that is not interested in simply moving up in the ranks. Maria jokes with Euphemia about what actually might make a social climber like Lady Jackson happy. She asks Euphemia sarcastically whether Lady Jackson could in fact “taste” happiness in the simple act of sharing her American connections. Later in the story, Clara becomes another companion to Euphemia, and together they experience a moving encounter with the Mohawks who adopt them: “this is considered a high mark of respect among them.” The chief and his brother “conferred [on them] all rights and claims of Mohawk by birth.”58 Significantly, the encounter takes place at Cohoes Falls, which were discovered by the Mohawks and where according to legend they founded the Iroquois League of Nations in 1142. The location represents the Mohawks’ rightful place on the land. In addition, these falls are considered second in beauty only to Niagara Falls.59 As part of the adoption, the Mohawks give Euphemia a Native name that means “ear of Indian wheat,” denoting fruitfulness, as she is pregnant with her son.60 In this scene, Clara shows her depth of understanding by graciously, rather than fearfully, participating with Euphemia in this encounter. Lennox also uses the wise young girl to show another kind of diplomacy: to compliment contemporary female authors, Frances Brooke and Frances Burney. She praises Burney’s novel Cecilia in that the wise Clara chooses to read it, and Maria describes the novel as having “uncommon merit.” Clara also translates Guarini’s Pastor Fido, a work that had

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been translated by Elizabeth Singer Rowe, which Brooke had planned on adapting,61 and which, as we have seen, had been adapted by Lennox to become her play Philander. Clara is an equally perceptive, sensitive reader of books and new social situations. The role that is given the least attention in the novel is that of the mother.62 Euphemia is first cast in this role as the voyage begins, with twelve-year-old Edmund Mansell, whose stern father, a captain, decides to train him at this young age for sea service because he himself had “acquired reputation” in military service. Edmund’s mother, who wishes that her son could go to school first, is distraught. As a consolation, Euphemia offers to be Edmund’s surrogate mother for the voyage. The poignant scene as they sail away, with Edmund sobbing in the boat and his mother an emotional wreck on the shore, points once again to the cruelty and divisiveness of selfish masculine imperialistic impulses. It also introduces Euphemia’s motherly instinct, as she adeptly comforts both mother and child, whose fates have been determined by this father’s insistence on his son’s career (and reputation) over his education. As Euphemia is beginning to settle into her new life in Albany, known for its vibrant trade with various Native American tribes, her son, Edward, is born with a bow and arrow birthmark. She was pregnant with him when she was named “ear of wheat” by the friendly Mohawks, but she believes that the mark is the result of her scare in the woods by two inebriated Native Americans. This scene presages the fact that this child is destined for a cross-cultural life that is simultaneously gracious and antagonistic. In Albany, “the language, the manners, the dress” are “all Dutch,”63 the Europeans who were the town’s most “ancient settlers.”64 At Edward’s birth, the Dutch custom to scour the room immediately after a baby is born is employed, and this enrages Mr Neville. He calls it a “savage custom,” one that will surely “kill his wife with a cold,” so he kicks over the bucket. This sets in a damp that Euphemia’s British maid worries is even more certain to make mother and child sick. The drama is mediated by Mrs Benson, who explains to Maria that the Dutch nurse wore a head cloth to indicate her age and wealth and was baffled and insulted by Neville’s violent display. Although she is partial to the nurse, Mrs Benson ends this saga with the neutral statement that ultimately no harm came to mother or child.65 The narrative is illustrating how various cultures have natural conflicts, but that aggressive resistance to others’ harmless customs is not constructive. In fact, it is repugnant, and useless superstitions are common to all cultures. Lennox wrote numerous scenes that portray the problems that were introduced by the British presence in America and suggests through Euphemia’s and Mrs Benson’s observations that any anger the Native Americans feel against the British is understandable. In fact, her husband’s and Captain Mansell’s insistence

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on their own way is part of what incites conflicts. No matter how hard Euphemia tries to keep her three-year-old son “safe behind our walls,”66 just as Mrs Mansell had, she is powerless against her husband’s wishes. Tragedy strikes soon after she has her second child, Maria, who is given her mother’s dearest friend’s name. Neville insists on taking four-year-old Edward to Cohoes Falls, but Euphemia is resolute that she will accompany them because she worries that Edward will be in danger. Despite her vigilance, Edward disappears into this picturesque landscape. Euphemia’s paroxysms of grief are palpable – a mother’s anguish that Lennox had experienced at the death of Henrietta. Eight years after Edward’s abduction, Euphemia refers to it as “a bleeding memory.”67 Ultimately, it is determined that Edward has drowned, thankfully “dead … but … not devoured.”68 Euphemia’s female friends are her comfort, especially her Socratina, Mrs Benson, who believes that “reason and religion had produced [her] resignation, which philosophy teaches, but which true piety alone can reach.” In contrast, Euphemia sees her own acceptance of this situation as the only possible human response, rather than the result of her religious piety. She explains to Mrs Benson that “those who will not suffer their portion of misery here, deserve to be something less than human, but nothing better.”69 Mrs Benson understands the world through a religious lens, in which piety will be rewarded. Euphemia instead infuses Mrs Benson’s claims with a pragmatist argument. The narrative is thus representing not only what Euphemia has learned from Mrs Benson but also how she is growing into a philosopher herself. As it turns out, what has seemed the fault of the Native Americans is actually a series of unfortunate events which are the direct result of the European presence in America, and which end with a remarkable outcome. The assumption that Edward will be harmed by Native Americans proves entirely false. Little Edward has not been drowned, but rather he has wandered off and been found on the Canadian Huron trade route, as the Hurons are going to New York to sell their furs to the British. Ultimately he is adopted by an affectionate Catholic Huron woman (Lennox even includes the woman’s maize recipe, which Edward loves) for a few months until her death of a fever, likely brought by the white people; and later he is educated by the rector of a Jesuit school in Montreal. At age twelve, eight years after his disappearance, Edward has mixed feelings about leaving Montreal. Accompanied by Mohawks, he appears back in Schenectady, speaking French and wearing Native clothing. Although Euphemia first gets him a tailor to make him a “European habit” and sets to work teaching him English and the Protestant faith, Edward has been raised very well. Rather than being “torn apart by savages,” as Euphemia had first imagined, he is the picture of perfection. His intercultural experiences have turned him into a thoughtful, knowledgeable, and open-hearted person. Mrs Benson praises

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something so sweet and insinuating in the tones of his voice, so interesting in his countenance, so gentle yet manly in his manners, as disposes every heart to love him with the affection of a parent. If this charming countenance, so full of sensibility, spirit and sweetness, had none but ordinary qualities to treat us with, it had been a trick put upon us by nature to deceive us, by hanging out a false sign; but his mind corresponds with the loveliness of his outward form. His mother, [is] every moment more sensible of the value of the blessing she has recovered … considering his youth, [he is] a good classical scholar; he has had a polite as well as learned education.70

Edward became a far better person under the Hurons’ and Jesuits’ care than he would have if Neville had continued raising him. Mrs Benson reports that “Indian women are extremely fond of their children, and take the utmost care of them while they are young. She who had adopted little Edward, shewed an affection for him equal to that she had felt for her own son, who died a few days before.”71 In addition, the fright that was said to have caused his bow and arrow birthmark is the key to his being returned to Euphemia. The strange ways of strangers, which have been perceived as dangerous, are actually proving to be better, and even necessary. Mrs Benson also explains that Edward’s “French education has given him an air and manner, so unembarrassed, so polite, and even gallant, which, joined with a true English solidity of understanding, makes him pass for a prodigy … his stature is so advantageous that no one [in New York] considers him as a boy.”72 It is not only surprising that Edward’s Huron and Jesuit education is appreciated, but also that his education originates in French culture. In fact, this “handsome Huron,” since he was dressed in their clothes upon their reunion, proves his truly multicultural character by not being offended by the governor’s sense of humour. The governor is so “full of wit and spirit” that he has his daughter, Miss Montague, gird him with an elegant sword, a British mockery of French romances. Edward entertains the crowd by going down on one knee, kisses the sword, and, “adopting the language of ancient chivalry, begged leave to vow himself [Miss Montague’s] knight, and to dedicate that sword to her service and protection.”73 Edward comfortably moves between cultures and religions. In every way, he is the complete opposite of his selfish and ill-tempered father. On their return to England, Euphemia, the hero of the story for her ability to learn and appreciate difference, portrays the British as provincial and shallow. Mr Neville’s uncle worries that Edward might have “an outlandish look” and piously hopes he never worshipped the devil when he was among the cannibals. Mr Neville interrogates Edward on his Catholic “idol worship,” but Edward responds diplomatically.74 His Jesuit education has made him wise and kind. As Neville’s uncle is dying, Edward wants to help his mother care for him, but

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Neville insists that he accompany him “to every scene of pleasure and amusement, in such quick succession that he has no time to prosecute his studies.”75 Edward seems Lennox’s ideal son, having a natural love of knowledge, and early habits of study and retirement, [which] render him rather averse to, than of being seduced by false shews of kindness and regard, into connexions with persons of dangerous principles, which it is impossible his unsuspecting youth, his open and candid temper, should enable him to discover.76

With the money that Euphemia inherits, she pays all of her son’s school expenses, something Lennox herself was never able to do for her children. She also donates five hundred pounds to the Jesuit school in gratitude to the rector for her son’s “early virtuous and learned education.”77 Lennox’s last novel ends with her fantasy of financial security for all women and the promotion of a good education for all. As in the story of Edward’s disappearance, Lennox repeatedly challenged established notions about cultures and identities in Euphemia. For instance, religious affiliations are not employed with their typical associations, but more randomly. There are good Catholics, like the Jesuit rector, and bad Protestants, like Captain Blood, Captain Mansell, and Mr Neville. Similarly, though consanguineal relations are important, they are not singularly valued, and even those who are not connected by blood are sometimes called family. For example, when Edmund Mansell, to whom Euphemia has become a surrogate mother, meets Edward, her biological son, Euphemia calls him Edward’s “brother,” and they immediately embrace. Mrs Benson is referred to as a “second-mother” to Euphemia, and the Bellendens consider the Nevilles their family.78 Near the end of the novel, when Colonel Bellenden toasts his daughter after surviving his grave illness, he includes Euphemia as a kind of second daughter.79 Euphemia’s benefactor is also not biologically related to her, but is instead a blood relation of her cruel husband. To emphasize merit over birth, bonds are rewarded when people treat each other with mutual respect, not simply because they have a duty to one another. Thus, Lennox sets up a narrative that questions the traditional boundaries that often create disastrous tensions between people. Euphemia illustrates how personal relationships are complicated, while simultaneously portraying racial or cultural tensions. Lydia Clerke’s gift of Marmontel’s The Incas, or the Destruction of the Empire of Peru may have served Lennox well in helping her think more clearly about the injustice of European occupation. Euphemia includes a long list of the many attributes of the “American nations,” such as unanimity, generosity, firmness, patience, observance, respect for the old, and contempt for material goods. She also admires how “religion seems to have

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but little influence upon their conduct and manners. Their virtues are their own; their vices often copied from their enlightened allies.”80 Euphemia concludes this section by explaining that she had “listened with pleasure” to Euston, another of her good friends, and a consummate traveller, who relays this information to her after she has had some experience with the Mohawks. Euston represents empiricist notions of early modern philosophy, as he came to America not as a representative of the British government but “merely to gratify a curiosity, which has carried him over half the world.”81 He quotes Abbé Raynal to challenge the assumption that European society is somehow superior to that of indigenous Americans: What greater happiness than this … does the civilized man enjoy? His food is more wholesome and delicate than that of the savage; he has softer clothes, and a habitation better secured against the inclemencies of the weather. But should he live under a government, where tyranny must be endured under the name of authority – to what outrages is not the civilized man exposed! If he is possessed of any property, he knows not how far he may call it his own; when he must divide the produce between the courtier, who may attack his estate; the lawyer, who must be paid for teaching him how to preserve it; the soldier, who may lay it waste; and the collector, who comes to levy unlimited taxes.82

Although Euphemia accuses Euston of being “a little overcharged,” she agrees with his overall thrust, as she was witnessing how the British government overstepped its authority. The novel portrays many British colonizers as unaware of their negative impact, while Euston is the wise observer. Euphemia is a protected young woman who, through experience, is becoming aware of the dangers of that insulation. After all of her fears that her son would be brutalized by Native Americans, Euphemia learns that the surrogate Huron mother cared for him as her own child, and a Mohawk was instrumental in returning him. As a material sign of her changed mindset, she thanks him with “a diamond ring of great value.”83 However, great value to Euphemia is likely little value to the Mohawk. Furthermore, Euphemia learns that Native Americans are just as capable of goodness as the British. She acknowledges her natural fear, but because of her numerous rewarding interactions with them, she is able to see them as equals. Whenever she finds herself nervous about their differences, she reminds herself of Euston’s words: Let us never believe … that gentleness and humanity are qualities of the earth and air; they are … neither goods of the East, nor captive virtues of the Greeks; they are wandering and pasant – All climates receive them in their turn; and it is not the Cymbrick Chersonesus any longer, it is Athens and Achaia that are at this day barbarous.84

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Euphemia repeats to herself the belief that “gentleness and humanity” are available in every corner of the world, and that neither the Britons nor the Greeks hold them “captive.” She realizes the importance of understanding that those who are culturally very different have just as much potential to be good. The need for cooperation is most intensely felt in the novel when the party is threatened by a snowstorm. Neville virtually forces them into the elements with few provisions. Their only hope is a passing Mohawk, whom Neville then bribes with rum to go for help. The Mohawk, however, dies from drinking the rum, passing out and freezing. The party assumes that the Native American has “deceived them,” but the fact is that Neville poisoned a potential ally.85 They are only saved when lost Neville accidentally happens upon Dutch traders who offer to accompany him to Schenectady.86 Again, their foreign neighbours, like the Mohawk, are their friends. In addition to the Mohawks, Euphemia has regular contact with the Dutch, who were the first European settlers in this area. She comments on how they are nearly as foreign to the British as the Native Americans are. Although they are portrayed as being primarily motivated by money, Euphemia is surprised at their charity and “resolves to treat them in their own way,” mirroring the generosity they showed when she visited their homes by serving a wide variety of food for tea during their return visits.87 She emphasizes the contrast with British hospitality when she describes Mrs Bellenden’s behaviour, which serves as a model for rulebound decorum that “ranks politeness … amongst the cardinal virtues.” Instead we see how politeness to one person is rudeness to another. [Mrs Bellenden] conceals, with the utmost caution, her dislike of these strange visitants; and the less they seem [e]ntitled to her delicate attentions, she is the more assiduous in practicing them, as if she hoped to civilize them by example – Meantime they stare, and are confounded when she addresses them, and either do not answer at all, or in manner so rude and strange that she blushes, is confused, and silent.88

Mrs Bellenden has made the Dutch uncomfortable and is privately scornful, considering herself better than “these strange visitants.” In fact, it is the British who are the foreigners. Euphemia first realizes this when their group is making its way up the Hudson to Neville’s first post in Albany. Out of curiosity, they stop along the river and hike some distance in rugged terrain in the hope of finding inhabitants. After climbing a steep ascent, they come upon a poor Dutch family living in a beautiful clearing. This encounter is fraught with miscommunication and ends with Euphemia’s observation, “I do not find that they receive much relief from the wealthy owners of the rich plantations, which are in the neighbourhood of these high lands. The many that need, and the many that deny, pity make up

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the bulk of mankind.”89 Euphemia is appreciating the injustice in her encounter with a kind of clarity that sometimes comes more easily abroad. The novel repeatedly acknowledges social difference and the privileges conveyed to some at birth, and by implication Euphemia thus learns the values of a more democratic society. Maria wonders why people hate a whole group for the bad behaviour of just one of its members and is particularly vexed in her own relationships when she laments that “it is unjust in my uncle to confound [her suitor, Mr Harley] with his unworthy parents, and make him answerable for their faults.”90 In her critique of deliberate privileging of birth over merit, Euphemia looks forward to an excursion to Philadelphia, founded by William Penn, who “in my opinion, is not much inferior to Solon, or any of the wise lawmakers of antiquity.”91 By invoking Solon, the Athenian statesman from the sixth century BCE, Lennox signals support for the democratic principles and written constitution that Solon espoused. Ultimately, Euphemia is rewarded for learning cultural sensitivity and for her ability to nurture, or at least maintain, her relationships, even her most difficult one – her marriage. By the end of the novel she has her own money, fifteen thousand pounds, and is happy in her ability to control her own life. She also does not forget the America that changed her. Back in England, she continues to call Edward “our dear Huron.”92 Euphemia sees that many of her son’s admirable qualities are the result of his education by Hurons and even Jesuits. In America, where she “turned philosopher,” she learns that good fortune does not favour the virtuous. Even at the end of the novel, Mrs Benson insists that virtue always yields a reward. She forces the pen out of Euphemia’s hand in the last letter to Maria and writes, “Thus blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds; And tho’ late, a sure reward succeeds.”93 In fact, Mrs Benson is quoting from Congreve’s The Mourning Bride, which Lennox had acted in forty years before. However, Euphemia corrects this sentiment and has the last word in her claim that our friends will always see the best in us. “Our enemies come nearer the truth in their judgements of us, than our friends.”94 Her intercultural experiences and close relationships helped her learn that fate has no reason. The Fruits of a Long Literary Career In Euphemia, published in 1790, Lennox was able to express most comprehensively ideas about the need to be more attuned to those both within the family and in the wider world. She illustrates the hard work necessary to understand those of other genders, classes, creeds, or cultures. Responses to her novel were as glowing as those for her most widely acclaimed comic novels, The Female Quixote and Henrietta, and show that critics thought that she was living up to her well-established

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reputation. In 1798 one commentator noted that Euphemia “by no means deviates from the line of credit which [Lennox had] always traced.”95 She is considered exceptionally interesting to men and women “who feel domestic comfort, [and] an important ingredient in the cup of human bliss.” This writer praises Lennox’s ability to offer “discriminating attention” to a wide range of types of people from “real life” and places her firmly in “the true School of Genius and Originality.” In fact, he considers this novel more “agreeable” than her previous efforts, as she offers a greater maturity in this narrative, the “radiance of a setting sun,”96 alluding to the fact that this was likely to be Lennox’s last literary production. Another reviewer saw her ability to apply philosophy to contemporary cultural conflict: “It abounds in maxims peculiarly beautiful, and the result of an intimate acquaintance with human nature, a perfect knowledge of the world, a polished taste, and an understanding happily expanded and enriched by all the stores of ancient and modern philosophy. These are more truly useful than whole circulating libraries of vapid novels.”97 Lennox is still writing fresh fiction that challenges current events, yet she is not denounced for engaging in the fiery political tension over England’s role in America. Instead, her “perfect knowledge of the world” is admired for advocating for a better society. Lennox has succeeded in being publicly engaged, yet not too much so. Although Euphemia earned laudatory reviews, it is unclear whether the novel brought Lennox financial stability. She could have received eighty pounds, the average payment for a novelist at this time, or she could have been paid as little as five pounds.98 However, even eighty pounds would not have supported her for the next fourteen years. Lennox’s personal life was not much more stable than her career: Alexander was probably absent by 1788 or 1789,99 having possibly left for Scotland. Her daughter was dead, and her son was now an adult and soon to be, if not already, in trouble. Now in her sixties, Lennox had to return to the life she had faced as a teenager with no immediate family to comfort her. Personally, life may have been difficult; but publicly Lennox’s celebrity was fuelled by Euphemia – she was mentioned in various literary publications of the time, and she entered the emerging canon of English literature. For one, Bartolozzi’s favourable engraving of Lennox100 was published soon after Euphemia appeared. She was celebrated by numerous female authors. Mary Hays, the wellknown political author, offered Lennox extended praise in Letters and Essays, Moral and Miscellaneous, suggesting that Lennox’s works would be excellent for the education of daughters. About Lennox’s translation of Sully, Hays pronounced in 1793 that it “excites our sympathy, engages our affections, and awakens our curiosity … the mind expanded, and liberalized by tracing the fate of nations and the rise and fall of empires, will proceed to studies still more interesting; to philosophical, political, moral, and religious truth.”101 Not only was “On the Death

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of Miss Henrietta Hollis Lennox” published numerous times between 1787 and 1797,102 but Lennox was firmly established in the English literary canon. In 1799, Mary Robinson’s “A Letter to the Women of England” proclaimed: “Let woman once assert her proper sphere, unshackled by prejudice, and unsophisticated by vanity; and pride (the noblest species of pride,) will establish her claims to the participation of power, both mentally and corporeally.”103 This publication lists fortyfive women who were currently living in England and had been crowned with the “wreath of fame.” Lennox was listed as “highly distinguished at the tribunal of literature.”104 She had led the charge of women’s literary progress through midcentury with such profound success that even Frances Burney was “astonished.” Now women “vied with men in every thing.”105 However, this celebrity did not cover Lennox’s financial exigencies. Thus, by 1790 she had turned to the Royal Literary Fund, which had just begun supporting authors, for help. Her request highlighted her more traditionally intellectual publications, Greek Theatre and Sully, over her novels.106 In May 1792, she finally received ten pounds ten shillings (ten guineas) and was an early recipient (and the first female author) of the Royal Literary Fund. However, ten pounds ten shillings would not have provided her with even the basics of food and shelter for very long. In 1793 a full application to the Royal Literary Fund, which was submitted on her behalf, perhaps suggesting her inability at this point to do much for herself, noted the plight of this female author who did not have a right to her own income.107 A look at the surviving documents chronologically from 1793 gives us a picture both of Lennox’s distress and of her determination to stay active in the literary world. Her desperate financial situation increased her frustration with her husband, and she called herself “the victim of a disinterestedness from which the most ungrateful of men has derived great advantages.”108 Her son, George Louis, had been charged with a felony the preceding November. So in January of 1793 she put on a brave face: “Sometime hence, my circumstances will in all probability be much altered for the better, but I am now in real distress.” This sentiment was addressed to Dodsley, whom she called on for the money he owed her for the publication of the second edition of The Sister. It must have seemed strange to Dodsley to be receiving a request for money owed so long ago. However, Lennox did not have the right to request this money before the 1774 copyright law. Also, she was aware that a fire had destroyed part of Dodsley’s stock on 7 June 1787 and that it might not be possible to recover the exact amount that was owed. Now in 1793 she was only requesting “a trifling sum that will assist me in my present necessities.”109 In Lennox’s characteristic rhetorical style, she is simultaneously assertive and deferential, shifting between an outright demand for money she is due … and an appeal to charity for a small sum of money. It is this very writing

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strategy designed to move her work forward, while not appearing to be ambitious, that effectively aided her throughout a long career. In keeping with her relentlessly independent spirit, at the age of sixty-four, Lennox also tried to capitalize on her earlier success with Shakespeare. The month after she wrote to Dodsley, she sought to publish a new edition of Shakespear Illustrated by subscription with the publishers Cadell, Dilly, Hookham and Becket. Three years earlier, Cadell and Evans had published Euphemia, and likely they believed another title by Lennox would sell well. At the same time, they were not secure enough to invest their own money, but rather asked Lennox to sell subscriptions. She may have also gained some confidence that she had new contacts, since Boswell had mentioned her favourably in The Life of Johnson. Frances Burney reported that an unnamed man was surprised that he had never heard of Lennox: He was eager to inquire of me who was Mrs. Lenox? He had been reading, like all the rest of the world, Boswell’s “Life of Dr. Johnson,” and the preference there expressed of Mrs. Lenox to all other females had filled him with astonishment, as he had never even heard her name.110

Lennox may have had this new form of celebrity in mind when she approached Boswell to write the proposal for the subscription edition of Shakespear Illustrated discussed earlier. She noted to Boswell that “my situation makes it necessary for me to appear in print.”111 She asked him to “be in the place of dear Doctor Johnson to me on this occasion and employ your elegant pen for half an hour.”112 Within two weeks of her request, Boswell sent his draft to Lennox and asked her to “suggest any alterations or additions which may occur.”113 She secured a group of publishers, the first of which – Cadell – had been a partner of Andrew Millar, the first publisher of Shakespear Illustrated. Cadell was well connected, knowing Johnson and David Hume and publishing Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire as well as Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations.114 These publishers underwrote the proposals, and an engraving of Lennox’s portrait was made to appear in it. She “hope[d] for considerable advantages” from this luxurious edition.115 She also obtained permission for a dedication from the Duchess of York116 through the help of Mary Gwyn, who moved in circles with Oliver Goldsmith, Samuel Johnson, and Joshua Reynolds. Gwyn’s sister Catherine was married to Henry Bunbury, groom of the bedchamber to the Duke of York.117 In May 1793, Lennox wrote to thank a male member of the gentry, as she often did, for subscribing to her new edition of Shakespear Illustrated, of which he requested six copies, a common practice so that he could share the book with friends. “If such an example should be often followed, my undertaking will be very successful.”118

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However, this edition of Shakespear Illustrated did not appear. Lennox was taking a chance that the famous Boswell could help her finally succeed with subscriptions. But since this was such an outmoded practice, it did not result in enough money to bring the title to fruition. Still, Lennox may have earned some money, as charity, and as a reward for a long career. Other literary endeavours late in her life mirrored her entire career and her efforts to plant herself ever more firmly in posterity. Sometimes she failed. For one, she contemplated, and perhaps even tried to publish, a subscription edition of Philander. This play had had only moderate success back in 1758; however, a Dublin edition soon followed. Lennox’s attempt now might have had something to do with her reputation for bringing out the first collection of Greek drama, The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, in English. She did not think through her requests for assistance carefully enough, however, since she returned for assistance to Mary Gwyn, who had helped with the subscription of Shakespear Illustrated. After Lennox appealed to Gwyn without mentioning this earlier project, Gwyn responded in a rather annoyed tone: “Give me leave to say; you should put it in my power by publishing your first book; to acquit myself of the promises I made to those, whose subscriptions I received before you Employ me again.”119 Although she had lost track of the people from whom she had requested support, Lennox was still lauded for her “considerable genius … who has long been distinguished for her literary merit.”120 This was confirmed with the publication in 1799 of the most beautiful edition of The Female Quixote to date. The publisher, C. Cooke, committed to the enormous effort of enlisting artists and engravers to produce six detailed illustrations.121 However, if Lennox received any income for this publication no record has survived. The vagaries of the fickle literary marketplace never subsided during Lennox’s career. In contrast to her celebrated literary friend Samuel Johnson, whose final years were sustained by a pension of three hundred pounds, Lennox had to rely on the charity of friends. In 1799 she may have acquired some inheritance from James Murray, which could have helped maintain her. However, it is unclear where she was living.122 It is indeed fortunate that Lennox had begun a relationship with the Royal Literary Fund in 1790, advocating for herself. Their help was crucial in her last years, and only because of their records do we have details about the end of her life. Lennox did not receive support again from the Royal Literary Fund until 1802, when her case was relatively urgent. Bennet Langton had died the previous year, so the well-known author and antiquarian William Beloe,123 who called Lennox “one of the most distinguished literary characters of the time,”124 wrote to John Nichols, an officer in the RLF, on 14 January to ask him to attend to her needs “as soon as possible.”125 On the 14th, the RLF met in a new building on the west side of Leicester Square at Prince of Wales Coffee House with only

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one agenda item, to discuss Lennox’s case at an “extra” committee meeting. They believed she was eighty-three years old and decided to have Beloe present her with ten pounds. In fact, she was seventy-three, but her “extremely urgent” need might have required the exaggeration.126 The Royal Literary Fund documents proceed to show the years leading up to Lennox’s death, her severe illness and thus her inability to help herself any longer. Following Beloe, Lady Frances Chambers, a prominent member of the aristocracy who lived in Calcutta from 1774 to 1792, took over Lennox’s care, writing to the Royal Literary Fund about the author’s need for “immediate relief.” Langton had asked her to look out for Lennox upon his death, and Lady Frances had collected a small amount of money for her. Lady Frances also sought help from the RLF on 20 January 1802. She reported Lennox’s miserable condition, where she stayed “at a cabinet makers” in Dartmouth Street, Westminster. Mrs. Charlotte Lennox … is in great distress for the common necessaries of life & is too ill & now too old to be able to assist herself in any way – she has not been able to go out of her lodging these three months … has not any relations or friends who seem to think that she has claims on them – indeed I believe she has lost in her daughter the only friend she had a claim upon.127

Lennox’s situation was surely grim, but Lady Frances’s claim must be somewhat qualified. Considering the number of friends that Lennox had made over the course of her life, it seems hard to believe that she had no comforters at this point. Lennox’s descriptions of genuine friendship in Euphemia demonstrate her own appreciation for thoughtfulness and comfort in her intimates. However, Lady Frances is likely correct that any friends Lennox still had were not able to help her in any significant financial way. For Lady Frances “only friend” meant a family member who could provide financial support. The irony here cannot be lost. Lennox had spent her life critiquing the sort of person who made decisions and labelled others based on their financial assets. Lady Frances herself wielded her husband’s potential donation to the RLF as an enticement to get Lennox the help she needed by using her husband’s resources: “Sir Robert Chambers says that he means to subscribe two guineas a Year to the charity & I mean to call & pay it in Pall Mall very soon.”128 It is tempting to read this as Lady Frances’s expedient way of ticking off the charity box that was expected of aristocratic women.129 Lennox had written about two types of “friends,” those with money and those who offer their emotional energies. She was lucky to find a few, notably the Duchess of Newcastle and Lady Lydia Clerke, who could offer both. And Lennox was lucky that Lady Frances was clever and looking out for her, since she received an additional ten pounds to help her tenuous circumstances.

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Another seven pounds seven shillings were delivered by William Beloe and his wife in April 1802.130 A year later, in January 1803, Lennox’s circumstances were even more dire, and her condition worsened over the coming year. The RLF met twice again in “Extraordinary Meetings” only to discuss “the distressed case of Mrs Charlotte Lennox.”131 At the second meeting on 20 January, a number of new members were in attendance at the Crown and Anchor Tavern132 near the Strand, a popular location for social clubs and those campaigning for political reform. Poetically, it was a just a few blocks from the Essex Head Club, where Samuel Johnson had declared Lennox “superior to them all.” They agreed to give another ten pound ten shillings and “that the Collector be directed to pay the money for her use, in such manner that her Friends may think proper.”133 Since in the past Lennox had signed for the money, this could mean that she was no longer able to care for herself and that “her friends” were now her caretakers. William Beloe was the impetus for the next “Special Meeting,” as he wrote in July to William Boscawen, “I must once more entreat your Kind intersession on behalf of Mrs. Lenox, whose infirmities have progressively increased and whose circumstances are greatly distressed. Your recommendation to the Committee will I know have its usual effect.”134 Another “Special” meeting was called for 20 August, and the above letter was read. An allowance of one pound one shilling per week would be taken by Mr Beloe “or whom he shall appoint.”135 In September, Lennox could no longer remember who she was and what she had done for her readers. The sadness of this moment is palpable in the writings of those who were attempting to help her. Although she was not aware now of her illustrious literary career, it was making these last days of her life less lonely and potentially more physically comfortable. Two unidentified people submitted a letter documenting her current condition to the Royal Literary Fund, undersigned “W. Annandale for Mr. Sutherland.” “Mrs. Lennox is not worse in point of Health but has entirely lost her memory.” A resolution established “in consequence of her advanced Age & Infirmities” that Beloe would oversee continuing the offering of one pound one shilling a week.136 On 13 September, Alexander Sutherland signed a receipt for “Ten pounds at Sundry times on account of Mrs. Charlotte Lenox.”137 And on 20 October, Annandale accepted three pounds thirteen shillings. On 16 November, Annandale received four pounds four shillings, reporting that Lennox “continues much as before.”138 When the RLF met the following day they agreed to continue her allowance. On 12 December, Annandale, again “for Sutherland,” signed a receipt for four pounds four shillings, “for the use of Mrs. Lennox who still continues very unwell, having in addition to her former complaint a Bad cough.”139

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The new year began, but Lennox could no longer hope for recovery. She was seventy-five years old, but she apparently had no memory of the rich life she had lived. Annandale signed another receipt on 2 January 1804, for three pounds three shillings: “three guineas for Mrs Lennox up to January 2nd, 1804 the day of her death.”140 An asterisk on the 15 December minutes bureaucratically announced her passing. “*Mrs Lenox died on the 3rd of January 1804.”141 Creating a record after Lennox’s passing, the RLF incorrectly documented her death. Actually, she died on 2 January 1804. Nevertheless, it is noteworthy that the death of this remarkable woman was documented by England’s first-ever literary organization dedicated to supporting their nation’s authors, and thus its readers. One year after Lennox’s death, a biography in the Monthly Mirror claimed that during the last twelve months of her life she was supported by her son.142 It would be poignant if George Louis had rebounded in America and earned enough money to send some back to his dying mother, though the RLF records do not mention any other financial support. Still, there is no doubt that Lennox had genuine friends. She certainly lacked money, but – according to a source some thirty years later – she still had personal connections: “The close of her life was unfortunately clouded by penury, which however was alleviated by her kind and able friends in a great degree.”143 The Right Honourable George Rose, the Scot with whom she had dined at Alexander Strahan’s, remained her supporter until the end of her life and paid for her burial.144 Lennox’s career was indeed a blessing. Without her literary fame, her final years could have been far more destitute and lonely. Officer and registrar of the RLF John Nichols wrote the most commonly quoted final words on Lennox’s life in the Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century,145 explaining that she was interred “in Dean’s-yard, Westminster, and lies buried with the common Soldiery in the further burying-ground of Broad Chapel.” The location, a pauper’s grave, is today a memorial to a number of poor souls, many of whom could not afford a proper burial.146 Thus, Lennox’s death occurred in humble and humbling circumstances. At this point her legacy was dubious.

Lennox’s Afterlife

… whoever excels is sure to give pain to his inferiors in merit, either from envy or emulation … (Trifler, Lady’s Museum 1:3)

Lennox’s worry that she would be “quite forgot” did not come to pass. Instead, she was held up as a paragon of female authorship from the moment of her death in 1804 until the mid-nineteenth century, when her popularity seemed to fade. However, in the early twentieth century her distinguished career once again attracted attention, and she was lauded in England and America. As we have seen, her legacy not only as a novelist but as a critic and an important translator lived on. Female readers and writers were inspired by her literary skill and agility, and her name was regularly invoked as evidence of a thriving new British literary fertility. A wide variety of popular and critical publications described her as “a considerable genius,” “eminent for genius, learning, public spirit, and virtue,” “a superior writer,” and an acknowledged foremother of many modern writers.1 Lennox’s place as a national literary icon was continually reaffirmed for at least six decades, until 1840. Her eighteen works could be found in George III’s library2 and local coffeehouses, as well as in French, German, Italian, and Dutch bookstalls and prominent homes in London.3 The flourishing circulating libraries that emerged all over London, in the provinces, and throughout the Continent – from Amsterdam to Moscow – held copies of Lennox titles. Her works were considered part of the intellectual project of the English nation and were recommended to young people by some of the most respected authorities. From 1800 to 1840, entries about her were regular features in the growing genre of dictionaries and encyclopaedias,4 which highlighted her work as a playwright, poet, critic, and translator. For instance, in 1812 she was included in

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Chalmers Biographical Dictionary, which was committed to offering “an account of persons of all nations, eminent for genius, learning, public spirit, and virtue, with a preference, as to extent of narrative, to those of our own country.”5 In other words, the editor believed that Lennox – who was also honoured with a portrait – had made eminent contributions to the British nation. Lennox also received mention in various literary historical and biographical publications. In his Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century from 1812, literary historian (and long-time editor of the Gentleman’s Magazine) John Nichols repeated the 1798 description of her as a “lady of considerable genius … who was long distinguished for her literary merit,” highlighted Johnson’s claim that she was a superior writer to Carter, More, and Burney, and emphasized the deplor­ able conditions of her burial.6 Nichols considered it a great flaw of the English nation that Lennox’s last years had not been more comfortable. In 1828, the secretary to the governor of New York from 1817 to 1828 referred to Lennox’s sojourn in America: he was pleased to learn that she had lived near his post. In a collection of fictional letters, which he published in New York, he wrote about her residence there. In his writings he “intended to illustrate the mental progress of [America], and to give you some ideas of her statesmen and scholars, fettered by no restrictions, and unsupported by particular patronage.” He was also interested in the (alleged) fact that Lennox’s father was the first commander of the rather slight fort on top of a steep hill at the edge of Albany that “pointed a few pieces of cannon from its peaceful embrasures.” The fact that Lennox was a highlight to an early nineteenth-century American dignitary who was proud of this country’s culture suggests that her prestige in America was threatening to eclipse her status in England.7 Women Readers and Writers Perhaps unsurprisingly, Lennox’s writing had an especially profound impact on women, including young aspiring women authors. In 1778 Frances Burney had declared “all [Lennox’s] Novels far the best of any Living Author.”8 Both authors made literary choices using common sense, rather than the formulas of the day. Burney’s Evelina, published that same year, includes a heroine similar to Lennox’s Henrietta. Her active and quick wit takes her on adventures similarly entertaining.9 Cecilia (1782) has numerous thematic parallels to Lennox’s The Female Quixote: the rejection of societal norms, ineffectual guardians, and the restriction of ancestral wills. Burney reported to Hester Lynch Thrale that “Charlotte Lenox has read my sweet Cecilia, & says she could neither eat nor sleep till she finished it.”10 In her last novel, Euphemia, Lennox also complimented Burney’s Cecilia as “a novel, newly published … [with] uncommon merit,” and Burney herself for being

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universally venerated: “Cecilia is the performance of a young lady, whose elegant genius is generally admired.”11 Burney continued to pay tribute to Lennox in her succeeding novel, Camilla (1796), when she described the flighty Mrs Berlinton as a “fair female Quixote.” However, Lennox’s influence – specifically, the influence of Henrietta – was most tangibly felt in Burney’s last novel, The Wanderer (1814).12 Burney begins her novel with the same abrupt, and dangerous, scene of a friendless young woman appealing for transportation and then being thrown together with a cast of characters embarking on the same journey that Lennox had used to open Henrietta. Like Lennox, Burney uses her initial dialogue to excellent effect to establish time, place, and action, and also to show whom the reader (and the characters) should consider trustworthy. In fact, Burney even uses the same sentence structure as Lennox: beginning with an adverbial subordinate clause, then introducing the main clause, and finally completing the lengthy opening sentences with further clauses; however, she “shifts from visual to aural pointers.” Rather than employing an omniscient narrator, Burney adapts Lennox’s style and uses vocal indicators to set the scene and motivation of the characters.13 Still, like Henrietta, Burney’s single, respectable heroine is a working woman, seeking employment and risking condemnation for acting publicly. Lennox’s influence at the end of the century was wide ranging, from Burney in London to young women living in the provinces. Jane Austen was fifteen when Euphemia was published in 1790, though it is not known if she was aware of one of her favourite authors’ newest publications. In 1791, the then thirteen-year-old Elizabeth Ogilvy Benger (later a novelist and literary biographer) devoted several lines to Lennox’s “female genius” in her Female Geniad, a poem celebrating female authors past and present. Benger wrote: Tis Lennox; she whose penetration shines, Thro’ Britain’s bard, immortal Shakespeare’s lines: Observe ingenious her impartial quill, Detect his errors, and declare his skill: Correct his fancy, prune his flowers, that need Some friendly hand to prune the spreading weed. We thank great Shakspeare for his pleasing faults! Since these employ’d a female critics’ thoughts.14

In these lines, Benger focuses on Lennox the Shakespeare critic rather than Lennox the novelist. She calls Lennox objective (“impartial”), implying that her gender made her more able to see past traditional Shakespeare worship, calling him on his mistakes while still appreciating his beauties. In this telling, Shakespeare is praised not just for his own work but also for inspiring

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Lennox’s. In fact, in the following couplets Benger claims that Lennox’s criticism demonstrates more generally that women are quite capable of being successful literary critics: Long had proud man with an usurping pride, The right of judgement to our sex deny’d; But now no longer can exclude our claim; Which finds protection in a Lennox’s name.15

Benger celebrates how Lennox inspires a woman’s “right of judgement,” a right that Benger would later exercise herself in her poem “The Abolition of the Slave Trade” (1809), a call for social change.16 She dedicated much of her writing effort, including subjects such as political leaders Mary, Queen of Scots, Anne Boleyn, and Elizabeth of Bohemia, as well as author Elizabeth Hamilton, to women’s history.17 Anna Letitia Barbauld, one of the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, was also impressed by Lennox’s contributions to literature. With her 1810 British Novelists, Barbauld created one of the most important full text collections of its time. In these fifty volumes, she provided the British with “the first English edition to make comprehensive critical and historical claims” about novels.18 Barbauld asserted that the leading writers were now women and called Lennox the predecessor of many modern female authors. She included The Female Quixote and Henrietta in her collection, declaring that they were the best of all of Lennox’s novels and that Shakespear Illustrated, Sully, and Greek Theatre were important contributions to English literature. Barbauld dedicated the most substantial comments of her introduction to The Female Quixote, which she pronounced “an agreeable and ingenious satire upon the old romances; not the more ancient ones of chivalry, but the languishing love romances of the Calprenèdes and Scuderis.” Barbauld joined others who considered it “the best of the various Quixotes which have been written in imitation of the immortal Cervantes.” Yet she distinguished Lennox’s novel not only for “form[ing] a fair counterpart to it, as it presents a similar extravagance,” but also for speaking to modern, more savvy young women. Lennox, she thought, was “drawn from a later class of authors, [that] is more adapted to female reading.” That is, authors like Lennox knew that most modern female readers were likely to read current texts, not older romances. “Most young ladies of the present day, instead of requiring to be cured of reading those bulky romances, would acquire the first information of their manner from the work designed to ridicule them.”19 Barbauld believed that women readers, much like some twentyfirst-century readers, learned about protagonists from earlier centuries only when they read an author like Lennox who illuminated that past for them. In mocking

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unthinking behaviours from the past, Lennox was educating her readers to cultivate their own independent minds. The London author Harriette Wilson, who wrote scandalous memoir, drama, and verse in the 1820s, would have been one of the sophisticated female readers whom Barbauld addressed. Wilson dreamed of being the author of the female Gil Blas, “much as Charlotte Lennox had written The Female Quixote.” Wilson used her literary talents to reject traditional feminine expectations, scorning marriage and confidently writing daring fiction. She reported in 1811 that Lennox’s strident Harriot Stuart was the model for her own popular tales.20 Praise of Lennox was consistent and uncontroversial, which is especially noteworthy in an author who had wisely negotiated a dramatic shift in readers’ expectations, especially those of women. In the mid-eighteenth century, twentyyear-old Lady Louisa Stuart, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s granddaughter, loved audacious stories. A writer herself, who had been composing novels and plays at the age of ten, she was charmed when an unidentified Aphra Behn novel was read aloud to a crowd. “Large circles consisting of the first and most creditable society in London” were entertained by Behn’s adventurous plots.21 However, by the early nineteenth century she admitted to being ashamed by her pleasure when one of Behn’s novels, which notoriously dealt with violent passion, was read to a crowd, and she said she thought it should be thrown on the fire. Over the course of her forty-year career, Lennox had to respond to these increasingly moralistic expectations. Yet Lady Louisa Stuart’s changed perspective reflects a conflict in the minds of reading women in the early nineteenth century, and how Lennox’s success was understood through their eyes is an important element in relating her legacy. These early nineteenth-century women knew that maintaining one’s social reputation as a female author required expert negotiation that might sometimes result in humiliation. Women were not being judged by the standards of all authors, but rather by ideals set for their gender. Coping with these diverging standards meant careful accommodation. Inspiring Intellectual Fertility Lennox’s legacy in inspiring women writers was perhaps not as surprising as was her place after her death in the promotion of English literary engagement with the natural world. At the end of Lennox’s life, one of her never-before-published poems was chosen as the central image in the magnificent and luxuriously illustrated atlas-folio-sized New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linnaeus, which was published in 1807 by Bonnell Thornton.22 “Intended to be the most accurate, superb, and beautiful work, ever published in any country” to illustrate “the fulfilment” of Linneaus’s philosophy of botany, it highlighted in page after page the

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richest and most exceedingly rare flowers through large, lush paintings.23 Appearing on two of the most important images in the edition, Lennox’s poetry was used to focus visually the supreme honour intended for Linneaus. As a homage to Carl Linneaus, New Illustration is composed of three parts. Part 1 is a dissertation on the sex of plants, which Linnaeus had written in 1759. Part 2 is an exposition of the sexual system. Part 3, titled Temple of Flora, comprises “picturesque botanical plates” designed to illustrate that system. This extremely ambitious seven-year project highlighted both the botanic and the poetic glories of England by combining the contributions of the great naturalist who invented the practice of naming plant species with the poetry of its best authors. Essentially, the volume presented not just Linneaus’s plants and their names, but the relationship between plants and humans, specifically the English. Temple of Flora, in which Lennox’s poetry was designed to appear, sets large, beautifully hand-painted engravings of plants side by side with poems written by British poets and illustrates the intimate relationship between “The Universal Power of Love”24 expressed in both botany and poetry. Most of the paintings have some kind of description on the facing page. Reprinted in various forms in London and called by many other names, Thornton’s New Illustration was a magnificent celebration not only of England’s engagement with botany but also of its artistic and literary talent.25 The primary goal of this project was to present a “British trophy in honour of Linnaeus.” Thus, the volume served as a self-consciously patriotic enterprise “intended to exceed all other Works of a similar nature on the continent, and to be not only a national honour, but an eternal memorial of the patronage which is granted to botany.” In fact, the project “bears vivid witness to what was perhaps the biggest single transformation in the culture of botany during the later eighteenth century.”26 This elegant and large compendium was the brainchild of Robert John Thornton, the son of Lennox’s close friends Sylvia and Bonnell Thornton,27 when he was in his early thirties and Lennox was in her late sixties. Robert’s father attempted culturally to supersede the French, with whom England had been at war since 1793, and the book “was essentially a luxurious piece of propaganda through which [Bonnell Thornton] embraced the monarchy and asserted the superiority of the British in the arts and sciences.”28 As part of the heralding of British superiority, Thornton included women poets.29 Lennox’s poetry was chosen to be inscribed directly on the column supporting the bust of Linneaus, the important man of science. In this collection other female poets were also honoured. The poems of Anna Seward, Cordelia Skeeles, Arabella Rowden, Hannah Cowley, and Charlotte Smith appear; but rather than being presented in scenes of action, their words are placed alongside beautifully detailed flowers. Male poets – Ovid, Robert Burns, William Shakespeare, James Thomson, Sophocles, and Erasmus Darwin (who figures quite prominently) – are also included in the volume.30

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Linneaus was central to Enlightenment scientific study between 1790 and 1820, and during these years the most progressive texts by and for women were produced. Linneaus’s ideas had disturbed the purity of the connection between women and botany. His association of human sexuality and plants was part of a larger plan to create a formal system of classification, which made “the acquisition of botanical knowledge easier for the novice.”31 Yet women’s occupation in the natural world was overtly rejected by those who felt the connection offended female delicacy. For example, Richard Polwhele’s The Unsex’d Females (1798) describes women’s study of botany as not only excessively ambitious but also as a kind of sexual experimentation that he likens to the sin in the Garden of Eden: With bliss botanic as their bosoms heave, Still pluck forbidden fruit with mother Eve, For puberty in sighing florets pant, Or point the prostitution of a plant …32

For Polwhele and many others, this natural study was immodest, only opening women to temptation. However, in smaller circles, women were beginning to be linked with botanical texts; they were thought especially suited for botany because they represented a closeness to nature, while also being objects of adulation and inspiration to virtue. Botanic Garden (1791), by Erasmus Darwin, the most influential physician of the late eighteenth century and Charles Darwin’s grandfather, celebrated the connection between woman and botany and “encourage[ed] women to engage with their own sexuality through botany.” Darwin recommended several botanical texts in his Plan for the Conduct for Female Education.33 Earlier, Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792) advocated for women’s access to botanical knowledge, calling any opposition a “gross idea of modesty.”34 By the mid-1790s, women were publishing texts that displayed their interest in and knowledge of botany. Charlotte Smith depicts a botanizing mother and aunt in Rural Walks in Dialogues (1795) and Rambles Farther (1796). In Priscilla Wakefield’s Introduction to Botany (1796), a literate but uneducated teacher and writer celebrates female virtues together with a love of plants. Maria Jacson’s Botanical Dialogues, between Hortensia and Her Four Children (1797) instructs school children in the basics of Linnaean botany. In fact, “the most progressive texts on women’s botany were produced during [this period].”35 These texts gave women access to botanical knowledge for the first time and promoted “the mutual improvement brought about by the intimate exchange of knowledge between a mother

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and daughter,” representing study as “conducive to female character building.” Botany was understood by some as an “antidote” to the “feminine” faults of idleness and frivolity, since it encouraged order and regularity by fostering the importance of classification.36 In fact, Priscilla Wakefield, the most prominent of these women, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau, whose botanical letters addressed to a young woman were translated into English in 1785,37 both believed that women should engage in outdoor botanical study rather than book learning. Thus, even among those who supported women’s observations of plants in nature, some would not have advocated Thornton’s project of illustrating the parts of flowers and printing women’s poetry in the same text. Lennox’s prominent place in Temple of Flora was threatening to some, while it also illustrates her value to a nation struggling for its own identity. The first of the lavish illustrations that included Lennox’s poem is titled “Asculapius, Flora, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus.” It depicts a captivating garden scene. The magnificent image features Asclepius, for medicine and the literary arts;38 Flora, the cultivation of flowers;39 Ceres, the advancement of agriculture; and Cupid, the propagation of love. Together, these four pay homage to a bust of Linneaus.40 In the main action, Cupid, using his arrow of love as a pen, is inscribing a poem by Charlotte Lennox on the column that serves as the base of Linneaus’s bust. This unnamed poem marks the end of Lennox’s career, but we do not know if Thornton solicited it from Lennox specifically for this volume. Placing Lennox among these mythological Greek figures could be interpreted as a celebration of her Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, the first anthology of Greek drama in English. But Thornton also provides a footnote under the poem to explain that Lennox was associated with the laurel, since Dr Johnson presented her with a sprig of it “in a public company” to honour “her great poetic genius.”41 This striking image, which sold for the enormous sum of 25 shillings, was painted by the king’s portrait painters, John Russell and John Opie. Sir Joseph Banks, explorer and patron of the natural sciences, owned this painting, which could be seen as an endorsement by the national scientific establishment. On the page featuring Lennox’s poetry, the homage to Linneaus is striking for its beautiful and vivid colours, and its dramatic depiction of Linneaus’s importance. Lennox’s poem itself is the dominant image and action, as Cupid busily writes. Her lines combine the voices of Cupid and of Lennox herself to deify the role of the poet in the glorification of the natural world: All animated Nature owns my sway; Earth, Sea, and Air, my potent laws obey: And thou, divine LINNEAUS! trac’d my Reign

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O’er Trees, and Plants, and Flora’s beauteous Train, Prov’d them obedient to my soft Controul. And gaily breathe their aromatic soul. Charlotte Lennox.

Lennox’s poem changes the focus of the image, which at first glance seems mainly to honour Linneaus. However, her lines include Cupid’s role in nature, that is, love’s function in the world of science. Her poem points out that Linneaus simply “trac’d,” or systematized, how nature works, just as naked Cupid’s pudgy fingers now carefully trace Lennox’s words with his arrow. Cupid is in fact the one in “soft Controul,” while divine Linneaus’s catalogue makes his work evoking emotion even more valuable. The complimentary action to Cupid writing is a butterfly-winged fairy hovering above and dropping flowers, which fall through a crown of laurel to land on Linneaus’s head. The fairy is blessing Linneaus for his more open-handed approach to science. In fact, Lennox is a Linnaeus of women writers, as the footnote reminds the reader. She had been crowned with laurel for her first novel and now this poem receives a similar honour. Lennox’s poem, the fertility of poetic invention, and this painting bring together less frequently connected concepts within sex: fertilization and love. The description on the facing page of the Russell/Opie illustration gives an explanation about why this image was included, suggesting that it “is emblematic of the advantages derived from the study of the science of Botany, as in the works of Linnaeus, to physic, agriculture, and as an elegant pursuit for Ladies. Cupid is represented in allusion to the sexual system invented by Linneaus.” This claim argues that in fact the study of botany and, by implication through the insertion of Lennox, the study of poetry are pursuits very well suited to women. Robert Thornton, a “Friend to Improvements,” who ultimately hoped for a society that could “produce the greatest general security and happiness,” saw the benefit of women studying botany and emphasized how this practice was a sophisticated endeavour.42 To Thornton, Lennox was not dangerous, but rather crucial to social improvement. One reviewer described Lennox’s poetry as “very good, considering the difficulty of the subject, and the necessary confinement of the ideas and expression of the poet,” and said that it had “met … with the approbation of the late Dr. Darwin.”43 In addition to this high praise, the image had a three-dimensional life as well. The statue in “Asculapius, Flora, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus” actually existed in real life. A note in New Illustration reports that the bust, perhaps with Lennox’s poem inscribed on the base, “was first raised in the botanical garden in Edinburgh by the illustrious Dr. Hope, late professor of Botany.”44 Standing in that lush garden, it promoted the memory of the Scottish Enlightenment and again connected Lennox back to her father’s Scottish roots.45

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The second enormous hand-painted illustration to feature Lennox in Temple of Flora was “Cupid Inspiring the Plants with Love,” which included the first four lines of the same poem at the bottom of the image. In this image, Cupid’s job is not to write with his arrow but to place the arrow in his bow and aim directly at the plants themselves. His sights are on a gorgeous flower, the bird of paradise, rousing it to flourish in this lush tropical paradise.46 With this illustration, Lennox’s same poem takes on a different meaning. Rather than an image designed to honour the man who established the classification system to explain plant reproduction, this scene puts even more control in Cupid’s hands. Again the poem celebrates literary prowess over the organic world, a merging of the human and botanical. However, in representing Cupid drawing his bow with the suggestion of striking plants with his arrow, “Cupid Inspiring the Plants with Love” gives greater power to love than to botanical processes. In the text as a whole, then, Linnaeus’s act of systematizing botany is revolutionary, but Lennox’s poetic power is at least as potent. One writer noted that the poetry in New Illustration was the very element that made the volume “worthy of the goddess [Flora]” because the poetry itself was part of the “scenery behind each Flower.”47 For this writer, Lennox’s words were an essential element to the art. Lennox’s identity as an author whom Cupid would employ to inspire plants is an intriguing addition to her repertoire of activities and influence. Although her poetry was not included in New Illustration until 1807, Thornton commissioned it sometime before 1 May 1799, the date “Asculapius, Flora, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus” was published. The engraving would later be hand-painted for New Illustration. Lennox’s own interest in and knowledge of the natural world and classification systems was evident earlier in her career. In the Lady’s Museum she provided detailed descriptions of entomology, marine life, and geography, such as “the Lion Pismire or Formica Leon [a small insect] in its several states,” “The Calamary or InkFish,” “The Swallow-Tail’d Butterfly and the Ichneumon in their several states,” and “the Ephemeron or Day-Fly in his several changes.”48 Unlike other female botanical writers, Lennox used scientific nomenclature to more precisely describe these creatures. Yet propriety dictated that women should not provocatively parade knowledge of Latin or scientific terms in public.49 Lennox’s belief that women should be exposed to technical scientific language and her attention to this in the Lady’s Museum could explain, in part, why Thornton chose her poetry for New Illustration. Having maintained a reputation for respectability throughout her life, Lennox left an intellectual legacy that had always been fused with propriety. In these Temple of Flora illustrations, her literary production and her skill at writing about relationships and love were merged. Her career and her life symbolized reputable intellectual fertility. At the end of her life, this publication gave her a new platform

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in a field where women may have had a better chance for recognition. Out in the world, rather than only reading in the closet, she promoted fruitful reproduction and productivity combined. For Lennox, the life of the mind and the life of the body were one. In promoting gender-neutral learning that joined head and heart, Lennox’s legacy just after her death was becoming one of a truly modern woman. Lennox’s Legacy Lennox’s lasting influence is perhaps most visible in the long life of her titles. If the number of reprints and references is used as the measure of success, The Female Quixote, Shakespear Illustrated, and Sully have had remarkable lives. The Female Quixote has been Lennox’s most popular title over time, and its influence has been vast. Perhaps most notable is Jane Austen’s love for its satire. She reminisced with her sister Cassandra about a January evening reading aloud together, admiring Lennox’s novel, imagining the intelligent and amusing protagonist, and laughing at the satire.50 As a matter of fact, Austen and her sister were at this point rereading Lennox’s novel. Scholars have often noted that Catherine Morland’s voracious reading habits, which create a dogmatic belief system for the protagonist in Northanger Abbey, resemble those of Arabella in The Female Quixote. Lady Louisa Stuart, mentioned above, a lifelong writer in her own right who began crafting fiction at the age of ten, recorded that this novel “delighted my childhood so much that I cannot tell whether the liking I still have for it is from taste or memory.”51 In fact, female quixote narratives dominated the literary marketplace at the turn of the century. The heroines of Maria Edgeworth’s Angelina; or, L’Amie Inconnue (1801),52 Elizabeth Hamilton’s Memoirs of Modern Philosophers (1800), Tabitha Gilman Tenney’s Female Quixotism: Exhibited in the Romantic Opinions and Extravagant Adventures of Dorcasina Sheldon (1801), and Eaton Stannard Barrett’s extremely successful The Heroine: Or, Adventures of Cherubina (1813) are all female quixotes.53 Even Mary Shelley was captivated and inspired by Lennox’s idealistic and adventurous heroine. As was mentioned in chapter 4, she identified personally with the qualities of the female quixote, and her character Ethel Lodore was inspired by the concept.54 Not only did The Female Quixote engage influential authors, but reading it was also considered an important part of a progressive female education. Erasmus Darwin’s Plan for the Conduct of Female Education, which had promoted women’s study of botany, proposed a “perfect system” for the important endeavour of educating young women. It upbraided parents of the “last half century” for not concerning themselves enough with their daughters’ minds. This progressive plan recommended The Female Quixote, which Darwin valued for not being “amorous,” and called Lennox an “ingenious lady.”55

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New editions of Lennox’s novel were still appearing in London after her death: in 1810 and 1820 for F.C. and J. Rivington. Its Spanish translator called The Female Quixote a “singular” novel representing a young woman who “deserved compassion and not contempt.”56 He suggested that Lennox’s novel was perhaps more important than Richardson’s or Fielding’s works because it was more varied and realistic. The translator drew attention to the fact that Arabella is more a victim of her circumstances than Don Quixote ever was. He was concerned that women did not have access to education and hoped that the author’s “unusual gender” would not be the focal point. Rather, he highlighted how pleasurable The Female Quixote was. By promoting the value of Lennox’s quixote over Cervantes’ Don, this Spanish edition would contribute to the long life of Lennox’s rewriting of Cervantes’ novel. Her protagonist overcame greater odds. However, Lennox’s fame did not live on only because of The Female Quixote, or even because of her novels. Her critical work also made an important contribution to the world of letters. Shakespear Illustrated had originally set her on a scholarly path, which lasted for the rest of her career. Although it received less critical attention than other works of Shakespeare scholarship for several decades after its original publication, Lennox’s study was considered central to Shakespeare studies towards the end of her life. At that point, she was featured in numerous works of scholarship dedicated to the history of Shakespearean criticism. In 1793 her portrait and a biography were included in Silvester and Edward Harding’s critical work on Shakespeare, which in two gilded volumes of illustrations honoured critics and celebrities who had come before them.57 An enormous high-quality engraving of Lennox can be found in the 1793 Samuel Johnson and George Steevens Shakespeare edition. She is celebrated alongside other illustrious Shakespeare scholars of the period: Nicolas Rowe, Alexander Pope, John Dennis, Thomas Hanmer, William Warburton, Samuel Johnson, Isaac Reed, Edmond Malone, and Richard Farmer.58 By the turn of the nineteenth century, not only was Lennox being invoked in the world of botany, but readers were lamenting that her approach to Shakespeare had not been given more attention. In February 1801, a reader of the Gentleman’s Magazine, who acknowledged that he wished he had known Lennox, suggested that Shakespear Illustrated was an “admirable production, extremely entertaining and instructive, abounding with judicious remarks,” and was “highly useful and acceptable to a numerous class of readers.” This reader lamented that Lennox’s style of scholarly work had not been continued. “The public would undoubtedly have been highly gratified by a new edition, with a Continuation of this excellent work; but as almost half a century is now elapsed since its publication, I am afraid it is too late to expect it from the ingenious lady.”59 In the July issue, James Wickins agreed with these sentiments, saying that Lennox “had led the way,”

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and requested more of this kind of work. In this issue a writer also claimed that Garrick had eventually become interested in Lennox’s source research.60 In other words, Lennox’s method and conclusions had grown more valuable over time. Even though Garrick and Lennox had been at odds in the decade during and after the publication of Shakespear Illustrated, through the retrospective lens of history they were working towards the same goal. The popular and prolific Shakespeare commentator George Steevens continued to honour Lennox in his extra-illustrated, elegant, and massive folio-sized fortyfive-volume work The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare in 1802. John and Josiah Boydell, who had a “zeal for native genius,” were responsible for funding this project. The advertisement noted that 163 historical pictures, “many of them of a large size” and “painted by British Artists,” were included in these numerous and grandiose volumes. Calling itself the first “National Edition,” this effort honoured “the zeal of native genius and the promotion of Fine Arts in this country.” Its preface claimed, “no such exertion was ever made, by an individual family, in any age, or in any country.” Because of the inferior state of publishing, it explained, Steevens and his associates had established their own printing house, a foundry to cast the type, and a manufactory to make the ink when they began the work. Lennox is featured on two large pages, measuring an improbable two feet by one and a half feet. These pages are dedicated to Lennox’s biography and Bartolozzi’s engraving of Reynolds’s portrait.61 In addition to the frequently cited details, the biography notes that Lennox was “distinguished for her genius and literary merit,” and specifies her contribution to Shakespeare studies in detailing the “liberties which Shakespeare has taken.” Lennox appears between Edmund Malone, who is known for compiling a chronology of Shakespeare’s plays that is largely still accepted today, and David Garrick.62 As if in response to readers of the Gentleman’s Magazine, the debate that Len­ nox initiated about the problem of Shakespeare’s borrowing of material was taken up again among respected Shakespeare scholars at the beginning of the nineteenth century. For instance, Francis Douce and George Hardinge took opposing positions in their discussion of the value of Lennox’s contribution to Shakespeare criticism.63 For his part, Douce, an antiquarian and critic, considered Lennox an author of “great ingenuity,” but attacked Shakespear Illustrated for accusing Shakespeare of “borrow[ing] his plot from Ariosto to write both Measure for Measure and Much Ado about Nothing,” claiming that this “is certainly a bad method of illustrating Shakespeare.” He believed that Lennox deduced “all her reasoning from false premises.”64 Hardinge in turn praised Douce as the best critic Shakespeare had yet found, but at the same time was adamant that Lennox’s work deserved far more approbation. In fact, he told Douce that he was “half angry” with him for his assault. To Hardinge, it did not seem such a terrible offence that Lennox was

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“a dashing critic, and a superficial historian.” What he appreciated was the fact that Shakespear Illustrated “entertained me very much” and that her “idea was new.”65 These debates continued after Lennox’s death, and their influence reached canonical Romantic authors. In 1811, Lennox’s portrait and biography were included with this same pre-eminent group of Shakespeare critics in the hefty four-inch-thick quarto volume The Whole Historical Dramas of William Shakespeare Illustrated.66 Lennox was not simply listed as influential; the details of her findings were cited as well. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, then one of England’s foremost critics and authors, credited Lennox for noticing a significant inconsistency in A Winter’s Tale. In public lectures he repeated her point about the absurdity of Hermione’s sixteen-year disappearance.67 In 1813 the Lady’s Monthly Museum repeated Coleridge’s sentiment: Lennox proved “(what admirers of our immortal bard will never admit), that Shakespeare has disfigured the stories in dramatizing them, by low contrivances, absurd intrigues, and improbable incidents.”68 By 1835 Lennox was firmly in the Romantic canon of Shakespeare criticism. Lennox’s scepticism about Shakespeare’s originality was still being taken seriously in 1838. The renowned Scottish poet Thomas Campbell, who compiled an anthology of thirty-seven of Shakespeare’s plays, considered Lennox the critic with whom he most needed to contend. He discussed A Winter’s Tale exclusively by arguing with her biting, now eighty-five-year-old, assessment.69 Not only was Lennox’s Shakespeare criticism valued in England, but she also symbolically returned to the United States in part because of it. Though Lennox had worked tirelessly to bring out a new edition in England before her death, it was an American who kept her work alive. The diplomat, playwright, and journalist Manuel Noah Mordecai published an edition of the first volume of Shakespear Illustrated in Philadelphia, the author “not being able to collect the materials for the other [edition].”70 This edition is chronicled by Horace Howard Furness, the most important American Shakespeare scholar of the nineteenth century, in his New Variorum Edition when he discusses A Winter’s Tale and Cymbeline. Also John Dover Wilson and Arthur Quiller-Couch mention Mordecai’s edition in the classic Cambridge Shakespeare, New Shakespeare, which began in 1921. Agreeing with Lennox, Mordecai reminds his readers that invention is in fact the most important quality in a writer; “without that, all other requisites are of little value.” He continues by explaining that genuine scholars should not only praise. They are also responsible for noting the truths about the literature we venerate. “An impartial commentator, whilst analyzing the beauties, should never be insensible to the defects; and where scenes and characters are pointed out that delight the imagination, some attention should be paid to those that shock the judgment.”71 Thus, Lennox’s critical stance on Shakespeare played an important role in framing American ideas about him. Her scholarly contribution to Shakespeare criticism was not superseded until

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1831 in German and 1843 in English. The Cambridge Shakespeare edition of 1931 endorsed Lennox’s remarks on Leontes’ jealousy in The Winter’s Tale, noting that it has “always and rightly offended the critics.”72 Even as recently as 2010, Shakespeare scholars were still crediting Lennox for finding Shakespeare’s source material. One critic, Alma J. Bennett, recently highlighted her with a biography and excerpts as an early American theatre critic. Bennett noted that, although Shakespear Illustrated was viewed in largely negative terms in the nineteenth and early twentieth century for being out of fashion in its reliance “on classical principles, romantic sentimentality, and seventeenth-century neoclassical ideas of decorum and poetic justice,” more recent methods of analysis reveal the complexity in Lennox’s theatre criticism.73 Harold Bloom’s twenty-one-volume Bloom’s Shakespeare through the Ages excerpts Lennox’s commentary on many of Shakespeare’s plays, offering twenty-first-century readers the origins of the debate about Shakespeare’s originality.74 Shakespear Illustrated, however, was not the only non-fiction text by Lennox to have a long life initiated by esteemed writers of the Romantic period. In fact, although her translation of Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully received little scholarly attention during her lifetime, only a few years after her death, she was described as an “ingenious translator” and it was prized. A new, revised and corrected edition with additional notes and embellished with portraits, a letter of Henry IV, and a brief historical introduction by Sir Walter Scott was printed in 1810.75 In the twentieth century, Lennox’s translation of Sully was especially important in both the United States and England as an inspiration for coping with international conflict. In 1919, the University Library of Autobiography selected it for its Autobiography during the Religious Wars: From the Spanish Saint Teresa to the English Cavaliers (1550–1630) as telling the “most important” of lives lived during religious wars. In the same edition, Arthur Cushman McGiffert, then president of New York’s Union Theological Seminary, an institute committed to social justice since the nineteenth century, deemed this text one of “the most valued and valuable treasures of French history,” since “the events in which [Henry IV] took part were of such world-wide importance.”76 This text, which included only book 1, was reissued in 2005 by the University Press of the Pacific, Honolulu.77 Lennox’s translation was also used in the wake of the First World War when the last book of Sully, commonly called “The Grand Design of Henry IV,” was published by the Grotius Society in 1921. This organization sought “to afford facilities for discussion of the laws of war and peace, and for interchange of opinions regarding their operation, and to make suggestions for their reform, and generally to advance the study of international law.”78 Although it is undoubtedly Lennox’s translation, the London editor, David Ogg, does not give her credit: he also did not know the original publication date, incorrectly asserting that the translation

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into English was from 1778. Ogg was still connected to Sully’s Grand Design of Henry IV in 1931 when the publishing company Sweet and Maxwell republished Lennox’s translation. Then, just as the Second World War began in 1939, the London “Peace Classics” series published Ogg’s edition, again with the Peace Book Company. Thus, Lennox’s translation of Sully served to encourage the thoughtful engagement of twentieth-century American and British readers struggling with the benefits of war and looking to history for guidance.

••• Lennox was indeed a pioneer. She expertly manoeuvred through the literary marketplace, and, in part because of her American experience, she produced the perspective of a sceptic. In a wide range of genres, Lennox used her outsider status to illustrate the constraints of cultural construction for a growing literate class. Lennox’s career as a novelist yields important contributions to literary history. Her characters show how women can resist, remake, and rewrite their lives, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable pressures. However, Lennox was a far more versatile author, and her multivocal poetry, plays, translations, essays, criticism, and periodical also reveal an ambitious vision for her society. Lennox’s life resonates with anyone who questions the traditional path of family and society and who pursues an internal drive for a more fulfilling life. She succeeded because she stood up for herself first in her personal life. Occasionally difficult, Lennox understood that her tough-mindedness was also her ally. She is an early example of an author with limited means, both in terms of status and wealth, who not only successfully maintained her personal reputation but also earned respect in her society. Indeed, she was for much of her life near poverty, yet she was also a professional celebrity. A learned, cosmopolitan author, she flourished in such impressive ways that she was given a place of national, and even international, importance. Even though Lennox never gained financial security, she did succeed in the struggle to maintain an independence of mind. For this remarkable accomplishment, and for her ability to strike a balance between highly engaging writing and publications that managed to be accepted within the bounds of female propriety, her career was not only self-determined and enlightened, but a success.

Notes

Page references will be taken from modern editions of Lennox’s works: Howard’s 1995 The Life of Harriot Stuart (1750); Dalziel’s 1989 The Female Quixote (1752); Perry and Carlile’s 2008 Henrietta (1758); Schürer’s 2008 Sophia (1761); and Howard’s 2008 Euphemia (1790). Otherwise consult first editions. Isles, “The Lennox Collection” refers to the volumes of the Harvard Library Bulletin listed in the Bibliography. References to Schürer, Charlotte Lennox: Correspondence and Miscellaneous Documents will appear as “Schürer,” followed by page numbers. Introduction 1 Schürer, 148. 2 Eaves and Kimpel, Samuel Richardson, 18. 3 Troide and Cooke, eds., The Early Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney. 4 Laetitia Matilda Hawkins, Memoirs, 70. 5 Monthly Review 14 (June 1756): 516–20. 6 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 7 December 1766, and Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 12 June 1766. Numerous newspapers and magazines praised Lennox, including the British Magazine 3 (July 1783): 8–11; the Whitehall Evening Post, 23–6 August 1783, the Edinburgh Weekly, 9 October 1783, and the Gentleman’s Magazine 74 (January 1804): 89–90. 7 Benjamin Victor, The History of the Theatres of London, 148. 8 British Magazine 3 (July 1783): 10. 9 Lennox to David Garrick, 4 August 1774 (2) (Schürer, 147). 10 Austen writes to her sister Cassandra on 7 or 8 January 1807 that Mme de Genlis’s novel Alphonsine; ou La Tendresse maternelle (1806), translated as Alphonsine, or Maternal Affection (1807), was unacceptable reading and was quickly replaced by

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The Female Quixote. Austen writes, “‘Alphonsine’ did not do. We were disgusted in twenty pages, as, independent of a bad translation, it has indelicacies which disgrace a pen hitherto so pure; and we changed it for the ‘Female Quixote,’ which now makes our evening amusement; to me a very high one, as I find the work quite equal to what I remembered it.” Le Faye, Jane Austen’s Letters, 119–20. See Perry and Carlile, Introduction to Charlotte Lennox, Henrietta, for further discussion of Lennox’s influence on Austen. 11 Fielding’s review in the Covent Garden Journal of The Female Quixote on 24 March 1752. 12 By the end of her career, 36.9 per cent of all identified novelists were women. With The Female Quixote, Lennox leads the way as women “contribute in significantly large numbers to an increasingly powerful print culture” (Vivien Jones, Women and Literature in Britain, 1700–1800, 1). In the 1770s, 14.3 per cent of published novels were written by women, in the 1780s 29 per cent, and in the 1790s 36.9 per cent (James Raven, “Historical Intro: The Novel Comes of Age,” in The English Novel, 1770–1829, ed. Garside, Raven, and Schöwerling, 1:15–21). 13 “A rule for reading any eighteenth-century woman writer is to look for and tease out from her published works the expression of her deeply held convictions that were deemed too unorthodox to state plainly, the chains of such expressions that sometimes seem like secret messages or like palimpsests, chains that have been called indirection. With each title she published, she demonstrated how what was ‘reasonable’ might in fact be more complicated” (Rizzo, “The Other Elizabeth Griffith”). 14 Harriot Stuart grabs her potential rapist’s scabbard. Arabella in the Female Quixote, though only imagining she will be threatened, jumps into the Thames. Henrietta is threatened by a man who hides in her closet and is plotted against by her own brother. Finally, Sophia’s books protect her, not only by educating her but also by serving as a buffer between her and an improper marriage of her mother’s insistence. These characters are in direct contrast to their contemporary heroines. For example, Richardson’s Pamela goes into fits and freezes. 15 Thrale, May–July 1778 (Balderston, ed., Thraliana, 2nd edition, 328–39). 16 Barbauld, The British Novelists, 24:1. Gentleman’s Magazine 74 (January 1804): 90 described Lennox as having “moral character,” and an obituary for Lennox in W. Becket, Universal Biography (1836), noted her “great private worth.” 17 “Philosophy for the Ladies,” Lady’s Museum 2:130. 18 See “Trifler,” Lady’s Museum 5:321. The theme of eyesight/perspective in this essay further illustrates the need for women to value their minds over their appearance. 19 Lady’s Museum 1:3. 20 “Philosophy for the Ladies,” 2:129–30.



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21 Lennox responds to this by carefully screening textual evidence and using impeccable sources. Examples include the Lady’s Museum and Sully (Dorn, “Reading Women Reading History,” 21n33). 22 For further discussion of this, see Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 204. 23 Lennox to Walker King, 7 May 1782 (Schürer, 201–2). 24 Lennox to John Boyle, Earl of Cork and Orrery, 29 October 1758 (Schürer, 88–91). 25 Lady’s Magazine 1 (October 1759): 65. 26 Samuel Richardson to Lennox, 22 November 1751 (Schürer 11–14). 27 Morris, ed., Conduct Literature for Women 1720–1770, 1:xv. 28 Bathsua Makin, An Essay to Revive the Antient Education of Gentlewomen in Religion, Manners, Arts & Tongues (London: Printed by J.D., 1673), Lady Chudleigh, The Ladies Defense (1701), and Judith Drake, An Essay in Defence of the Female Sex (London: Printed for S. Butler, 1696). 29 Henderson and McManus, Half Humankind, 92. 30 See Turner and Blondel, “The Force of a Mother’s Imagination Upon Her Foetus In Utero” (1730). The belief in callipaedia meant that what a pregnant woman laid her eyes on would influence a child’s appearance. 31 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu to Gilbert Burnet, 20 July 1710, in Halsband, ed., The Complete Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 1:44. 32 Nonsense of Common Sense, 24 January 1738, 25. 33 Morris, ed., Conduct Literature for Women 1720–1770, 1:xx. 34 Gregory’s A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters was written in 1760 for his daughters, but not published until 1774. 35 Greene, ed., Samuel Johnson: The Major Works, 179. 36 Elizabeth Montagu to Edward Montagu, 15 September 1751, Huntington MO2244. See also an earlier draft of this trope in Montagu to Edward Montagu, Tunbridge, August 1751, Huntington MO2240. Thanks to Markman Ellis for directing me to these letters. 37 Samuel Richardson to Sarah Wescomb, 15 September 1746 (Richardson, Correspondence with Sarah Wescomb, Frances Grainger and Laetitia Pilkington). 38 The quotation in the heading is from Woolf, A Room of One’s Own (1928), 78. 39 Ibid., 81. 40 Ibid., 78. 41 Though Elizabeth Singer Rowe published one novel, she was known for her poetry. 42 Rogers and McCarthy, Meridian Anthology of Early Women Writers, xiii. 43 Guest, Small Change; Schiebinger, The Mind Has No Sex? 44 Clery, The Feminization Debate in Eighteenth-Century England, 143. 45 Eger and Peltz, Brilliant Women, 21–2. See also Kathleen Wilson, “Citizenship, Empire, and Modernity in the English Provinces, c. 1720–1790”; Vickery,

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Notes to pages 15−17

The Gentleman’s Daughter; and Fletcher, Gender, Sex and Subordination in England 1500–1800. 46 Staves, A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 304. 47 Sarah Scott to Elizabeth Montagu, 28 November 1761. Huntington Library, Montagu Collection, MO 5287, and Pohl, ed., The Letters of Sarah Scott, 1:264. 48 For a treatment of the complexities of Burney as a “self conscious professional,” see Schellenberg, The Professionalization of Women Writers in Eighteenth-Century Britain, 141–4. 49 C[lara] R[eeve], Original Poems on Several Occasions (1769). 50 Schellenberg expertly explores this fact in The Professionalization of Women Writers in Eighteenth-Century Britain. 51 Bree, Sarah Fielding, 3–5. 52 Bemoaning the lack of biographical details, Bishop Warburton wrote of Lennox, “Nothing is more public than her writing, nothing more concealed than her person” (qtd. from a letter that Warburton wrote to Andrew Millar, the publisher of all of Lennox’s titles in the 1750s). This quote was printed in the three-page biography of Lennox, “Memoirs of Mrs. Lenox,” that was widely circulated. It was published in three London newspapers in 1783: the British Magazine and Review, or, Universal Miscellany 3 (July 1783): 8–11, the Whitehall Evening Post, 23–6 August 1783, 1, and the Edinburgh Weekly 58 (9 October 1783): 34–6. It corroborates most fully other biographical accounts, perhaps because it was written while Lennox was still active in the London literary world. There is no evidence to confirm who wrote it. References to this biography are given as British Magazine, July 1783. 53 “[W]e have met with no small difficulty in obtaining that genuine and satisfactory information, without which we are resolved nothing shall induce us to undertake the delineation of any character, however popular, and of course however greedily sought after by those superficial readers who are indifferent as to the facts, provided they receive a temporary gratification of their curiosity. We write, it is true, for the amusement of our readers, but their information is our primary object: about the former we are solicitous. But we are determined as to the latter” (British Magazine, July 1783). 54 “Memoirs of Mrs. Lenox,” British Magazine, July 1783. Duncan Isles, who introduced Lennox to the scholarly world with the first publication of her correspondence, also believes this to be “the fullest and probably most reliable contemporary biography of CL.” Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 19:1: 59n121. 55 J.W. Croker’s 1831 edition of Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson includes a biographical note on Lennox that concludes: “For most of the foregoing details, the editor is indebted to his friend the Right Hon. Sir George Rose, whose venerable mother still remembers Mrs. Lenox” (1:208). 56 Rivers, Literary Memoirs of Living Authors of Great Britain, 365.



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5 7 Dobson, Eighteenth-Century Vignettes. 58 Duncan Isles explains: “The letters and other items were found inserted loosely between the leaves of a blank album, and the album itself was enclosed in a sheet of paper bearing the inscription ‘Alexander Sutherland Esq., 6 Richmond Terrace, Whitehall, London.’ The album had apparently been deposited as part of a large collection of papers covering a period from 1769–1847 and relating to the Sutherland family. The deposit is recorded in a securities-ledger entry dated 22 November 1906. As all earlier registers have been destroyed, however, the papers could have been deposited at any time prior to that date … I would identify the ‘Alexander Sutherland’ referred to on the collection’s wrapper as Dr. Alexander John Sutherland (1812–67), BA. M.A., M.B., M.D., F.R. C.P., F.R.S., chief physician of St. Luke’s Hospital, London, the son of another eminent doctor and the grandson of Alexander Sutherland (1747–1819), a prosperous Westminster apothecary.” This original Sutherland was “friend, business associate, and ultimately executor of Joseph Moser (1748–1819), a painter, minor man of letters, magistrate, and nephew and one-time apprentice of George Michael Moser (1704–83), who was appointed as first keeper of the Royal Academy in 1767.” “There appear to be at least two possible lines of transmission of the collection” which seems to have been “passed direct from Mrs. Lennox to other hands en bloc” from Mrs. Lennox to Dr. Alexander John Sutherland. “First, Mrs. Lennox lived in the same area as Alexander Sutherland in the 1790s (e.g. Queen Square with Sir Joshua Reynolds’s sister Frances in 1792–3, and Dartmouth Street in 1793 and 1801–2). She was in constant ill-health during that period, and may therefore have come into contact with Sutherland as one of his customers. Second, although there is not direct evidence of contact between Mrs. Lennox and Moser, so many potential links exist between them that she is very likely to have known him (for example, through Mrs. Lennox’s period as resident – and possibly Housekeeper – of Somerset House, first headquarters of the Royal Academy; through her friendship with Sir Joshua Reynolds and acquaintanceship with many lesser artists, such as Nollekens, Bartolozzi, and Cipriani; or through their common involvement in literature. It is therefore quite conceivable that Mrs. Lennox’s papers could have come into Moser’s hands when Mrs. Lennox died, and thence to Alexander Sutherland as Moser’s executor” (Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 18:4: 317, 321–2). It seems that this is the same Alexander Sutherland who was given money by the Royal Literary Society to deliver to a dying Lennox, or at least was notified by them to do so. This decision to give one guinea for thirteen weeks was made at the Crown and Anchor Tavern on the Strand on 20 July 1803 on the day that she was reported to be “losing her mind.” It seems she gave her papers to Sutherland for safekeeping (see Royal Literary Fund archives; Schürer, 287–9, 293–4, 298–9). Lennox’s papers are now held at the Houghton Library, Harvard University: Charlotte Lennox Papers,

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Notes to pages 18−24

1752–1795 (MS Eng 1269). A guide to them can be found at http://oasis.lib.harvard. edu/oasis/deliver/~hou01303. 59 The new edition by Joseph Black et al. of The Broadview Anthology of British Literature: The Restoration and the Eighteenth Century includes several titles from Lennox’s periodical the Lady’s Museum. The Female Quixote was updated in 1989 and was followed in 1995 by a new scholarly edition of Lennox’s first novel, Harriot Stuart (1750), by Susan Howard. Both of these novels are now widely used in classrooms. In 2008, access to modern editions of Lennox’s works significantly expanded with the publication of three of her novels – Henrietta (1758), ed. Ruth Perry and Susan Carlile; Sophia (1761), ed. Norbert Schürer; and Euphemia (1790), ed. Susan Howard. Also, one of Lennox’s translations now exists in a modern edition: Claudine Alexandrine Guérin de Tencin, The History of the Count de Comminge, ed. Marianna D’Ezio (2011). 1  New World Thinking 1 See Carlile, “Charlotte Lennox’s Birth Date Confirmed,” which explains how these dates were determined. 2 “Memoirs” of Lennox, British Magazine, July 1783. 3 Ibid. 4 Conn, Gibraltar in British Diplomacy in the Eighteenth Century, 125. 5 Ibid., 132. 6 Menorca was captured in November 1730 (ibid.). 7 British Magazine, July 1783. 8 He was from Edinburghshire, a county that abuts the southern border of Edinburgh. Today it is known as Midlothan. 9 I would like to thank one of the anonymous reviewers at University of Toronto Press for this information. 10 This amount was calculated using http://measuringworth.com. 11 See H.C.B. Rogers, “Officers and Men”; Correlli, Britain and Her Army 1509–1970, 137; and Porter, English Society in the Eighteenth Century, 114, 136. It seems possible that in 1703 James became an ensign, in 1706 a lieutenant, and in 1721 a captain-lieutenant. (The “Army List of 1745” [The National Archives: WO 64/10 f. 39] includes a “John Ramsay” on a list of officers in the Coldstream Regiment of Foot Guards, under the heading “Rank in the Army as Ensign” 3 August 1703, under “Lieutenant” 13 September 1706, under “Capt Lt” 26 May 1721, and under “Rank in the Regt” 25 January 1728/9. By 1729, it seems he was with Colonel Jasper Clayton’s Regiment of Foot Guards (Army List for 1745 [WO 64/10 f. 39]). On 25 January 1729 he was transferred to the Coldstream Guards. Isles notes in his “Chronology” that, as captain lieutenant, he was with



Notes to pages 24−6

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Clayton’s Regiment (14th Foot), arriving in Gibraltar on 21 April 1727, but no citation is given. 12 British Magazine, July 1783. 13 William Tisdale 1669–1735. 14 British Magazine, July 1783. 15 Nenandic, ed., Scots in London in the Eighteenth Century, 21 and 24. 16 If James Ramsay was sixteen when he started his military career, he would have been fifty-four in this year. J.H. Leslie, “An English Army List of 1740,” Notes and Queries 6:331; also see National Archives, WO 64/10 f. 139, which is the best evidence that James Ramsay was in New York from 20 December 1738 until sometime before 24 February 1742). He replaced Capt. William Dick when Dick died and George Clinton replaced Ramsay. 17 Browning, The Duke of Newcastle, 185. 18 James Ramsay, an officer in Lt. General Bissett’s Regiment of Foot, received his first commission on 2 February 1728/9, and was made first lieutenant on 26 August 1736 (J.H. Leslie, “An English Army List of 1740,” Notes and Queries 6:331 and 8:328). “He first procured a lieutenancy in the Guards, and some time after obtain[ed] the rank of colonel, on being appointed to the command of a company” (British Magazine, July 1783). 19 British Magazine, July 1783. 20 Charlotte’s age is an approximation, considering the one-year span of her birth date and her father’s post in New England. 21 The extensive biographical note on Lennox in Croker’s 1831 edition of Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson must be considered more reliable than most, since the information comes from a woman who knew Lennox personally. It concludes: “For most of the foregoing details, the editor is indebted to his friend the Right Hon. Sir George Rose, whose venerable mother still remembers Mrs. Lenox” (1:208). 22 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 83. 23 They arrived in either 1738 or 1739. Séjourné’s The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox is the most extensive study of Lennox in America and deduces that many of the details that Lennox includes in Harriot Stuart and Euphemia were based on her own experiences. Gustavus Maynadier began this conversation with The First American Novelist. Susan Kubica Howard has expanded on this research in her publications. Séjourné deduces that Charlotte was in North America from 1738 to 1742 (126); Howard suggests that it may not have been until 1739 (“Introduction,” 13). The dates of the actual meetings for British and Iroquois here would mean that if she wrote only about the time that she lived there, Charlotte would have been in New York in 1740 (at age eleven) and would have left by the time of the treaty in 1742 (at age thirteen). These dates in Albany would corroborate an arrival in New York in spring 1739, as they could have missed the meeting of that year. The New York Gazette of 16–23 April 1739

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Notes to pages 26−8

notes, “The Brig Master, Captain Ratsey, nine weeks, from London.” (There were six ships listed in this issue of the Gazette arriving from London, Cowes, or Bristol. The next issue lists just one.) 24 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 3; Munsell, Collections of the History of Albany, From its Discovery to the Present Time, 1:390. 25 After 1691, inheritance practices were changed to the English model. A change to imperial economic policies increased local profits. The tensions between the British authority and the local community are apparent. For discussion of these facts and the ways in which English governing systems began to be implemented over the Dutch, as early as 1686, see Hackett, The Rude Hand of Innovation, 23, 32. Parker, ed., Landmarks of Albany County New York reports that the population was growing, and by 1790 it had reached 3,506 (294). 26 This was in 1717. See Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 3, and Munsell, Collections of the History of Albany, 1:390. 27 Henry Beekman II’s (1688–1776) census report of 1731 (Philip L. White, The Beekmans of New York in Politics and Commerce, 1647–1877, 169). 28 Lennox, Euphemia, 213 and 223. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid., 3:16–17. 31 Alexander Hamilton, Gentleman’s Progress. This book was considered “the best single portrait … of colonial America” for its time (Micklus, “The Delightful Instruction of Dr. Alexander Hamilton’s Itinerarium,” 359). 32 Kalm, Travels into North America, 2:101. 33 According to the officers’ lists of the independent companies, James Ramsay, who had been a lieutenant of the 2nd Regiment of Guards, succeeded Captain William Dick. Also, a letter dated 25 April 1739 was written by Captain Edward Clarke, who was in command at Albany, to Lieutenant Walter Butler, stating that “Captain Ramsey is at New York who will be here soon to take the command of Dick’s.” New York Historical Society Mss. Clarke to Lieutenant William Butler at Oswego (Albany) (Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 132). 34 James Ramsay’s name headed the list of commissioners on 23 May 1740, and from then on his name appears regularly until 26 January 1741/2 (Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 135). Charlotte’s father continued as the commanding officer from around May 1739 until January 1741. 35 Tasker-Davis, “Cosmopolitan Benevolence from a Female Pen,” illustrates how Lennox’s Euphemia is “more personalized, experiential, and optimistic” in its account of travel to the New World and “offer[s] a more realistic female subjectivity within the early British novel … allow[ing] Lennox to express more personally the colonial British female’s embodiment of the philosophies of cosmopolitanism in her many duties as woman, wife, mother, and friend” (33).



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3 6 Lennox, Euphemia, 117. 37 Lady’s Museum 1:5. 38 Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 138–9. 39 Ibid., 81 40 Ibid., 135. 41 Ibid., 106–7. 42 See Séjourné’s excellent study (ibid.) for a fuller picture of these similarities. 43 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 86. 44 Ibid., 102. 45 Records of the Commissioners of Indian Affairs (qtd. from Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 106). 46 Governor Clinton confirmed this fact: “They are all Dutch at Albany” (O’Callaghan, Documents Relative to the Colonial History of the State of New York, 4:286). See Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 90 for further discussion of the dislike of the Dutch. 47 Colden, The Colden Letters on Smith’s History, 1:205. 48 Alexander Hamilton, Gentleman’s Progress, 79 (Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 90). 49 Lennox, Euphemia, 229. 50 Ibid., 252. 51 Ibid., 252. 52 Ibid., 283. 53 “Several British officers who resided in Northern New York for a long time” also learned Dutch (Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 93–4). 54 Balderston, ed., Thraliana, 2nd edition, 522. The magazine The Crypt, or Receptacle for Things Past 6 (September 1829): 32 reports that Hester Thrale wrote in her own copy of Warton’s Essay on Pope: “Dr. Johnson told me the anecdote” in 1803. 55 Lennox, Euphemia, 323. 56 William Smith, 323. Another traveller, James Birkett, noted that “the people here are very gay in their dress,” 1750, 45. 57 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 125. 58 “Envy” was published in Poems on Several Occasions, while “To Sappho” was published in Harriot Stuart. 59 Lennox, Poems on Several Occasions, 20. 60 British Magazine, July 1783. 61 Lady’s Museum 1:5. 62 Ibid., 1:6. 63 This novel was originally published in the Lady’s Museum as “Harriot and Sophia” (1760–1). It was published as a stand-alone novel in 1762.

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Notes to pages 34−8

64 Apart from Harriot Stuart and Euphemia, Sophia is another example of a Lennox narrative with this image-conscious type of mother. Lennox makes clear that immaturity has no age. 65 Lennox, Euphemia, 121–2. 66 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 64. 67 This is because there were a few tutors in town; New York State Library MSS, Staats papers (MS C. 42. 1 .1), box I, receipts of Hendrick Breece dated April 1738 and January and October 1739. 68 Alexander Hamilton, Gentleman’s Progress, 78. 69 The National Cyclopaedia of American Biography of 1896 indicates that Charlotte’s “primary education was acquired in the best schools of the city, as her father’s position gave to the child unusual advantages.” However, no other evidence corroborates this assertion, which was made ninety-two years after Lennox’s death. 70 In The Female Quixote, the Lady’s Museum, Sophia, and Eliza. 71 Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 144. 72 Lennox, Euphemia, 3:178, 4:6–7. 73 Lady’s Museum 1:8. 74 Ibid., 1:7. 75 Ibid. 76 Ibid., 1: 8. 77 This raises questions about when her brother’s tutoring would have happened. He was older than Charlotte, so the most likely assumption is that he had begun to live on his own in America, and she had lived with him at some point in New York. But there is no evidence to show this. 78 British Magazine, July 1783. 79 The Papers of Sir William Johnson, Albany: Division of Archives and History, 1921– 62, I:14 and XIII:4–5; Boston Gazette, 20–7 April 1741. 80 See Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox; Records of the Commissioners of Indian Affairs for 26 September 1741 and New York State Library Mss. Misc. Records, vol. 10 (qtd. from Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 141). 81 National Archives, London, MSS CO. 5/41 f. 11. 82 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 1:10 and 151. 83 The National Archives, London, MSS CO. 5/42 f. 25. Also see Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 141 for a discussion of Lennox’s brother. 84 “On Reading Poems by Mrs L**x Published When She Was Not Fourteen Years Old” (1782) (Schürer, 311). 2  An English Sappho 1 Chalmers, The General Biographical Dictionary, 32. 2 British Magazine, July 1783.



Notes to pages 38−9

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3 Though they shared similar interests, I have found no connection between Lady Isabella Finch and the successful poet Anne Finch, and thus the workings of a literary circle. 4 “Miss Charlotte was now constantly with her Ladyship” (British Magazine, July 1783); Croker also mentions Charlotte’s closeness to Lady Mary, the Marchioness of Rockingham (Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208). Lady Mary was the mother of the future prime minister, 1765–6. 5 British Magazine, July 1783. 6 Patricia Hamilton, “In Search of Lady Isabella’s Library.” 7 Charlotte’s father died in New York on 10 March 1742 (Museum of the City of New York, MSS Nr. 47–173–60). He had been in command from April 1739 to March 1742. A letter from Philip Livingston of Albany to Colonel Wendell of Boston also notes that Ramsay died in Albany (see Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 132). Ramsay’s last recorded appearance was at the commissioners’ meeting on 26 January 1742. The two other meetings were on 27 January and 3 February. See also Gentleman’s Magazine (January 1804); Chalmers, The General Biographical Dictionary, 32; Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, 3:200 and 8:435. 8 Because we do not know the exact date that Charlotte sailed from New York to England, it is possible that her father died before she left … and perhaps his death even precipitated her leaving. Whether James Ramsay died before or after Charlotte set sail cannot be conclusively established. 9 Lennox to Lydia Clerke, 30 August 1776 (Schürer, 175). 10 British Magazine, July 1783. 11 Lennox, Euphemia, 4:42–57. Just two weeks after James Ramsay’s death, Captain Rutherford arrived to replace him. Lennox writes of a similar incident in Euphemia. When Bellenden dies, Lord R replaces him. 12 It is useful to note the importance of a girl’s fourteenth year. In Eliza Haywood’s Betsy Thoughtless (1751), published seven years after Charlotte’s father’s death, the narrator discusses the pivotal nature of the fourteenth year, when a girl is “most apt to take the bent of impression, which according, as it is well or ill directed, makes or mars, the future prospect of their lives” (36). Also, the fourteen-year-old Jenny, in Haywood’s Jenny and Jemmy Jessamy, is particularly intent on learning what makes a good marriage from the example of others. 13 The War Office Records of Widows’ Pensions do not mention Catherine’s name in 1742 or 1743, just after James died. However, there is a gap in the lists until 1752, when her name is listed “Catherine Ramsey – Captain – 25/5/9” alongside Jane Dick, Grace Cosby, Jane Burroughs, and Rebecca Nickolls, who were “all widows of officers whose names we have encountered in a number of papers.” It was common that rewards of pensions would take years to obtain. In 1763 her name still appears on the records. The 1764 and 1765 records have not been preserved. But by 1766

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Notes to pages 39−44

Catherine’s name has disappeared from the records (The National Archives, War Office Records, MSS, WO 24, 807–19; also see Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 139). 14 Chalmers, The General Biographical Dictionary, 32. 15 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 124. 16 Thomas Pelham-Holles (1693–1798), the Duke of Newcastle, was secretary of state for the Northern Department and was thus specifically responsible for the American colonies. 17 The National Cyclopedia of American Biography, 6:51. 18 Ibid. Rockingham purchased this home in 1742 and significantly renovated it. The home was probably ready by October 1743. Ref. 71. Northamptonshire RO, Fitzwilliam (Milton) MSS, tin box 10, MX, parcel 3: Sheffield Central Library, Wentworth Woodhouse Muniments, M6, 19 September 1741, 20 March Ref. 1741/2. 73; ibid., M3, 2 June 1743. 19 British Library, Add. MSS 4456 f. 98,99, 16 March 1759. 20 Patty Hamilton draws this conclusion in her “In Search of Lady Isabella’s Library.” There is evidence of the Birch/Finch friendship in their correspondence between 1752 and 1763. However, exactly when their friendship began is unclear. 21 By 1751 she may have been translating The Memoirs of the Duke of Sully. 22 Burney earned two hundred pounds per year while in active service, 1785–90. Her pension was one hundred pounds per year. 23 British Library Add. MSS 32691 ff. 327, 7 September 1738. 24 British Library Add. MSS 32954 f. 110, 10 December 1763. 25 British Library Add. MSS 32955 f. 450, 12 February 1764. 26 British Library Add. MSS 32949 f. 84, 9 June 1763. 27 Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208. 28 Matthew and Harrison, eds., Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 58:118–25. 29 The date of this event is not given, but we know that “[H]er moral character was never attacked.” Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208; and National Cyclopaedia of American Biography, 6:51. 30 Imoinda also defends herself in this way in Thomas Southerne’s Oroonoko (1695). 31 “And if the reader is curious to know what passed between them, he will be fully informed in the next chapter” (Lennox, Henrietta, 89). Thanks to Ray Paramo for drawing my attention to this. 32 Lennox, Sophia, 166. 33 Lennox, Euphemia, 4:257. 34 Highfill, Burnim, and Langhans, The Biographical Dictionary of Actors and Actressess, reports this as her first appearance on the stage. In 1750 the actress who played Lavinia was Mrs Bracegirdle (9:237). 35 Brett Wilson calls The Fair Penitent “a civic play, one that narrates the creation of a civil society in microcosm” (A Race of Female Patriots, 35). The play was one of a



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group of “civic” dramas that illustrates scenes of political discord and private misery around women’s concerns. Onstage, women’s sentimental ardour is linked with public spirit. 36 Woman Not Inferior to Man or, A short and modest vindication of the natural Right of the Fair-Sex to a perfect Equality of Power, Dignity, and Esteem, with the men. By Sophia, A Person of Quality. London: Printed for John Hawkins, at the Falcon in St. Paul’s Church Yard. 1739. 37 Séjourné notes that Eleanor and her father were “surties” at the baptism for Lieutenant Burrow’s daughter (The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 135). 38 Lady’s Museum 1:5 and 8. 39 Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 140. 40 Backscheider, Eighteenth-Century Women Poets and Their Poetry, 4–5. 41 Some of Lennox’s predecessors were also women who were respected for their intellect, while also maintaining their virtue. Like Lennox, some were in need of financial security. In 1734, Poems, by Mary Barber, a member of Swift’s literary circle in Dublin, was one of the first works to enter this more open arena. Barber was ambivalent about her ambitions. Yet she is thought today to be “the first woman poet to make a virtue out of the educational purposes of her poems (for her sons) and the domestic context of many of them” (Eighteenth-Century Women Poets, ii). In the 1740s, Mary Jones of Oxford, an intelligent single woman of limited means who also had friends in the fashionable world, was quite successful in attaining notable subscriptions for her Miscellanies in Prose and Verse. It was not published until 1750 (London: Dodsley). Jones was Lennox’s friend. 42 Perry, Novel Relations, 200. “[T]he modern individual was first and foremost a woman” (Armstrong, Desire and Domestic Fiction, 8). 43 “Honest Sam Paterson used to boast that he had the honour of first introducing her to the publick” (Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, 3:200). 44 Ibid., 3:438–9. 45 Lennox, “Hymn to Venus: In Imitation of Sapho” and “Envy: A Satire.” 46 Lennox, “An Ode in Imitation of Sapho.” 47 Lennox, “A Song,” 35. 48 Lennox, “Envy: A Satire”; “To Aurelia: On Her Attempting to Write Verses”; “Ardelia to Flavia: An Epistle”; “The Dream, “An Epistle to Moneses.” Delarivier Manley goes by “Delia” in Adventures of Rivella (1714). Ardella, a variation on Ardelia, a retiring and modest poet, is featured in some poems in Eliza Haywood’s Epistle for the Ladies (1749). 49 Lennox, “The Advice an Ode”; “A Song”; “The Art of Coquetry.” 50 Lennox, “To Aurelia: On Her Attempting to Write Verses.” 51 Poems which included the pen name “Mira” appeared in 1744 and 1747. 52 Sarah Fyge Egerton, Poems on Several Occasions, 1703.

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Notes to pages 48−50

53 Melissa M. Adams-Campbell’s New World Courtships synthesizes research on the topic of courtship and marriage to show that, in the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, “Native American marriage traditions may, in fact, be more progressive and accommodating than Anglo-American marriage practices.” She cites the practice of bundling, in which Huron women “may accept or shun the attentions of multiple suitors, engage in close physical contact (including premarital sex), and enter a oneyear trial marriage with no loss of social status,” and the travel writing of Lahontan, i.e., Baron de Lahontan, Louis Armand de Lom d’Arce, Mémoires de l’Amérique Septentrionale ou la Suite des Voyages de Mr. Le Baron de Lahontan, vol. 2 (The Hague: Chez les Frères l’Honoré Marchands Librairies, 1703). The standard English edition is Baron de Lahontan, New Voyages to North America, ed. Reuben Gold Thwaites (Chicago: A.C. McClurg, 1905). Huron marriage practices are confirmed by Jesuit missionary reports gathered in Karen Anderson, Chain Her by One Foot, esp. chaps. 6–7. 54 Mesick, The English Traveller in America 1785–1835, 96. 55 John Shebbeare’s Lydia; or Filial Piety (1755) makes just this point. Thanks to Megan Hiatt for pointing me to this text. 56 It is not clear which of these appeared first, or whether Charlotte had any control over this phrasing. 57 British Magazine, July 1783. 58 Croker reports that Alexander was “in Mr. Strahan’s employ, but in what capacity is not known” (Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208). 59 British Magazine, July 1783; a later account, the June 1813 Lady’s Monthly Museum, says that when Charlotte married Alexander he was “a gentleman in a public office.” All other accounts say he was only a printer. Perhaps he was both, or perhaps he held public office later in his life. Lawrence Stone notes that remaining unmarried for seven years was a standard condition of apprenticeship (Uncertain Unions and Broken Lives, 190). If Alexander had a formal apprenticeship, he would have forfeited a stable profession to marry Charlotte. Alternatively, he could have reached his seven years by the time they married. 60 Croker in Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208 and The National Cyclopaedia of American Biography. 61 Charlotte and Alexander’s marriage contract can be found at the London Metropolitan Archives [Acc 680/264 1747]. Armytage, ed., The Register of Baptisms and Marriages at St. George’s Chapel, Mayfair, 92. 62 Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, 3:200 and 8:435. There are several instances of Lennox’s name being confused. Joshua Reynolds’s catalogue of work refers to her as “Mrs. Arabella.” However, in nearly all instances, she is called Charlotte Lennox. The records at their daughter’s baptism cite the parents as “Alexander and Charlotte Lennox.”



Notes to pages 50−2

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63 In fact, because of the number of quick marriages, “Barbara” could simply have been a clerical error. 64 In the 1740s, as many as 15–20 per cent of all marriages were clandestine, allowing weddings without parental consent and without social repercussions if there was a wide class difference. Poorer couples could avoid the expense of an open wedding. With the 1753 Marriage Act, couples absconded to Gretna Green, the southernmost point in Scotland (Lennox, Sophia, 170). 65 Of the ninety marriage contracts at the New Chapel between 1 June 1747 and 6 October 1747, only one other woman acknowledged being under age. Of the seventy-two marriage contracts in October 1747, five signatees were under age. Three had parents as witnesses and two had friends. 66 British Magazine, July 1783. 67 Ibid. 68 Richardson to Lennox, 22 November 1751 (Schürer, 11). Jane Collier (1715–55) wrote the satirical Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting (1752) and coauthored The Cry: A New Dramatic Fable (1754) with Sarah Fielding. Richardson to Lady Bradshaigh, 24 February 1753 (Richardson, Correspondence, 6:243). 69 Lennox’s address was listed as St Ann’s, Westminster on her marriage contract. 70 Walpole to George Montagu, “Miss Charlotte Ramsay, a poetess, and a deplorable actress” (Walpole, Letters, 2:337, qtd. from Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 7). Also see G.B. Hill, ed., Johnsonian Miscellanies. 71 22 February 1749. This benefit night was advertised in the General Advertiser, no. 4457, 6 February 1749: “For the benefit of Mrs. Charlotte Lennox; At the Little Theatre in the Haymarket, on Thursday, Feb, 22, will be performed a Concert of Musick. After which, will be presented gratis The Mourning Bride with Entertainments, The Part of Almeria to be perform’d by Mrs. Lennox. Tickets to be had at Mr. Dodsly’s in Pall-Mall, Mr. Millan at Charing-Cross, Mr Darres in Coventry-Street, Mr. Davison in the Poultry, and Mr. Payne in Pater-noster Row.” 72 Two different title pages indicates that Poems had two print runs. 73 Gentleman’s Magazine 20 (November 1750): 518–19. Reprinted in the Magazine of Magazines (December 1750): 552. 74 “The Art of Coquetry” was reprinted from Poems in Gentleman’s Magazine (1750). 75 “The Art of Coquetry” was printed in The New Foundling Hospital for Wit in 1769, in the Lady’s Poetical Magazine in 1782, and in an undated edition of Colman, Poems by the Most Eminent Ladies of Great Britain and Ireland, 2:5–8. As digital access increases, we may find that this poem and perhaps others by Lennox were reprinted more widely. 76 Montagu’s Turkish Embassy Letters were “set” in 1718–24 but not published until 1763.

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Notes to pages 52−9

77 Pennington, ed., A Series of Letters between Mrs. Elizabeth Carter and Miss Catherine Talbot, from 1741–1770, 2. 78 British Magazine, July 1783. 79 The auction occurred on 2 November 1807. Poems on Several Occasions was sold for five shillings on the breaking up of Isaac Reed’s library. Bibliotheca Reediana (London: J. Barker, 1807), 344. 3  Making a Trade of Her Wit 1 The Art of Governing a Wife, 29. 2 Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 157. 3 British Magazine, July 1783. 4 Benjamin Franklin to William Strahan, 1744/5. ff. 2. Zweig MS 149: 1745, British Library, Stefan Zweig Collection, vol. 149. 5 Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 5:173. 6 See Elias, ed., Memoirs of Laetitia Pilkington, 1:liii. 7 Staves, A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 272. 8 “Memoirs of a Lady of Quality,” by Frances Anne Holles Vane, was published in Tobias Smollett’s novel The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle in 1751. A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Charlotte Charke … Written by Herself was published in 1755. Also see Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 27. 9 James Sterling, “To Mrs. Eliza Haywood, on Her Writing,” dedicatory verse to Haywood’s Secret Histories, Novels, and Poems. 10 Even as late as 1969, Haywood and Manley reveal a “corruption of popular taste” and are described as “absolutely irrelevant in either a moral and an aesthetic sense” (Richetti, Popular Fiction before Richardson, 119). 11 Aphra Behn was thirty when she first published (the play The Forced Marriage in 1670). Delarivier Manley was at least thirty-nine when she published New Atalantis in 1705. Eliza Haywood was twenty-six when she published her first novel, Love in Excess, in 1719. Penelope Aubin was somewhere between thirty-nine and forty-two when she published The Strange Adventures of the Count de Vinevil and His Family in 1721. Novels published by women just before Harriot Stuart were Felicia to Charlotte (Collyer, 1744); David Simple (Fielding, 1744); The Fair Moralist (Charlotte McCarthy, 1745); Familiar Letters between the Principal Characters in David Simple (Fielding, 1747); Dalinda (Haywood, 1749); The Governess (Fielding, 1749); History of Cornelia (Scott, 1750). These authors’ ages at publication were Collyer c. twentyeight, Fielding thirty-four, thirty-seven, and thirty-nine, McCarthy at least twentyfive, Haywood fifty-six, and Scott twenty-seven. 12 Spedding calls Love in Excess “the spectacularly successful first novel of a spectacularly successful novelist” (A Bibliography of Eliza Haywood, 89). Also see the Introduction by David Oakleaf to Haywood, Love in Excess, 7.



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13 Clara Reeve’s The Progress of Romance (London, 1785) indicts Manley and Behn, only excusing Haywood because these two “seduced [her] into the same track.” It is also important to note that there is no evidence of claims that Haywood had affairs and children with William Hatchett and Richard Savage or even that her personal reputation was associated with scandal. Haywood’s most recent biographer, Kathryn R. King, explains that the evidence shows “glimpses” of “a competent and respected professional pursuing her craft within a network of allies” (A Political Biography of Eliza Haywood, 6). 14 Hardwicke Papers, British Library Add. MSS 35397, f. 291. Thanks to Kathryn R. King and Betty Schellenberg for drawing my attention to this reference. 15 Schellenberg,“Putting Women in Their Place,” 250. 16 King, A Political Biography of Eliza Haywood. 17 David Erskine Baker, “Eliza Heywood [sic],” in Companion to the Play House, 1:2. 18 Blouch, “Eliza Haywood and the Romance of Obscurity,” 540. 19 Gubar, “The Female Monster in Augustan Satire,” 389. 20 See Lockwood, “Eliza Haywood in 1749,” for a more complete account of this publication. 21 Bree, Sarah Fielding, 5. 22 Bannet, “Lives, Letters, and Tales in Sarah Scott’s Journey through Every State of Life,” 7. 23 See the advertisement for Scott’s The History of Cornelia in the 1992 edition. 24 Bannet, “Lives, Letters, and Tales in Sarah Scott’s Journey through Every State of Life,” 3 and 7. 25 Todd, The Sign of Angelica, 160. 26 Staves, A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 283. 27 Ibid., 248–9. 28 Batchelor, “‘[T]o Strike a Little Out of a Road Already So Much Beaten,’” 87. 29 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 146. 30 See Stewart, Eighteenth-Century Novel and the Secularization of Ethics, 119, for further discussion of Harriot Stuart. 31 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 101. 32 Ibid., 113. 33 Ibid., 155. 34 Autobiographical parallels between Harriot Stuart and Charlotte Ramsay Lennox have been explored by Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, and by Howard in her Introduction to the 1995 edition of Harriot Stuart. 35 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 63. 36 Ibid., 81. 37 For a further discussion of Harriot Stuart’s originality and representation of femininity see Carlile, “Expanding the Feminine.” These categories for eighteenthcentury heroines are discussed in Spencer, The Rise of the Woman Novelist.

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Notes to pages 65−70

3 8 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 64. 39 Horner, The English Women Novelists and Their Connection with the Feminist Movement, 1699–1797, 43–4 and Margaret Anne Doody, “Shakespeare’s Novels,” 298. 40 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 98. 41 Ibid., 266. 42 Ibid., 242. 43 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu to Countess of Bute, 1 March 1752, Letters, 2:221. 44 Ibid., 2:176. 45 Lennox to David Garrick, 4 August 1774 (Schürer, 147–9). 46 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 148. 47 Richardson, Familiar Letters on Important Occasions, 229. 48 Homestead, “The Beginnings of the American Novel,” argues that “the American novel as traditionally defined (set in America, treating American subject matter, written by an American person) necessarily had its beginning from within a transatlantic context.” (530). The high cost of printing books in America meant that the vast majority of books – even those with an American subject matter – were produced in London. 49 Kvande and Spurgeon, “The Removes of Harriot Stuart.” Also, Mitchell, Westerns. 50 See Bauer and Mazzotti, Creole Subjects in the Colonial Americas, 1, and Mitchell, Westerns, 5 (qtd. from Kvande and Spurgeon, “The Removes of Harriot Stuart”). 51 Kvande and Spurgeon, “The Removes of Harriot Stuart,” 213. 52 American Susanna Rowson (1762–1824) is often invoked for offering a unique female representation of colonial America. However, in light of “the history of transatlantic fictions, Rowson’s novels and career look more typical than exceptional” (Homestead, “The Beginnings of the American Novel,” 528, 540). 53 Kvande and Spurgeon, “The Removes of Harriot Stuart,” 231. 54 Backscheider, Revising Women, 56–7. 55 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 79. 56 Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 148. 57 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 250. 58 Ibid., 252. 59 Ibid., 108. 60 Ibid., 109. 61 Ibid., 110. 62 Ibid., 146. 63 Ibid., 280. 64 Backscheider, Revising Women, 157. 65 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 119. 66 Spencer, The Rise of the Woman Novelist, 127. 67 Howard, “Identifying the Criminal in Charlotte Lennox’s The Life of Harriot Stuart,” 152.



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6 8 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 64. 69 Ibid., 66–7. 70 Ibid., 148. 71 Ibid., 125. 72 Sir John Hawkins, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 172. 73 Payne and Bouquet published Harriot Stuart, and Payne was a member of the Ivy Lane Club, which held the celebration of the novel in 1751. Samuel Richardson put Lennox in contact with Andrew Millar, who published The Female Quixote. Lennox describes on 21 November 1751 how she is concerned to maintain his good opinion. Lennox to Samuel Richardson (Schürer, 8). 74 Lennox’s friendship with Johnson could have begun through their mutual acquaintance with William Strahan between 1746 and 1749. In 1746 Lennox was just seventeen and Johnson was thirty-seven. At that time, her soon-to-be husband, Alexander, was in Strahan’s employment. Austin Dobson (Eighteenth Century Vignettes) suggests that she sought Samuel Johnson’s acquaintance through Strahan. However, the 1908 Dictionary of National Biography says that Paterson introduced her. Lennox and Johnson’s interactions often overlapped. Strahan’s colleague Andrew Millar had contracted with Johnson in 1746 for the writing of The Dictionary. Also in this year, Lennox had been employed as an actress, making it possible that she met Johnson through his earlier pupil and current friend David Garrick. Furthermore, their acquaintance could have been made in the world of journalism. Since Lennox’s first publication in the Gentleman’s Magazine in June 1749 received wide attention, she could have met Johnson sometime earlier that year, since he wrote for the Gentleman’s Magazine from 1738 to 1745, when he was still a relatively unknown author (Pat Rogers, The Samuel Johnson Encyclopedia, 158). 75 A late 1750s letter from Johnson to Lennox reassures her that Johnson “would endeavor to bring the whole affair to succeed” with the help of both Mr Payne and Mr Cave. He refers to a previous conversation in which, it seems, he told Lennox he thought she could get something published (Schürer, 3). 76 Schürer, 39. 77 One example of this was on 27 December 1757 when the Gentleman’s Magazine (564–5) published three of her poems – all of which had appeared in Harriot Stuart: “A Hymn to Venus,” “On Reading Hutchinson on the Passions,” and “An Evening Ode, under Affliction.” 78 Gentleman’s Magazine 20 (November 1750): 518–19. 79 The poem appeared in ibid., 518. It was presented by the Earl of Middlesex, Charles Sackville (1711–69), later second Duke of Dorset. The Female Quixote was dedicated to him. Margaret Anne Doody notes that “he had a passion for directing operas and wrote some verse,” and that at his death the Gentleman’s Magazine 39 (1769): 54, described him as “a lover of learning, and a patron of learned men; author of several

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Notes to pages 73−6

esteemed pieces in prose and verse.” (See Doody, Introduction to the 1989 edition of The Female Quixote, 388.) 80 Strahan charged Payne twenty-seven pounds thirteen shillings and sixpence for the printing of these copies. William Strahan Papers, British Library, Add. MSS 48800, f. 85b. 81 Although it was advertised as already published on 13 December 1750, the title page of Harriot Stuart says 1751 – a typical practice during the time to keep the novel “current” for a long period. On 12 December 1750, the Stationers Company Archive lists The Life of Harriot Stuart in “Entries of copies.” 82 These include a translation of Jeronimo Lobo’s A Voyage to Abyssinia (1733), the poem London (1738), an account of Dr Herman Boerhaave (1739), and The Life of Richard Savage (1744). 83 For the difficulties of Johnson’s early years, see, for example, DeMaria, “Johnson’s Dictionary,” in The Cambridge Companion to Samuel Johnson, 85, and Spector, Samuel Johnson and the Essay, 115. 84 Johnson, The Works of Samuel Johnson, ed. Hawkins, 11:205. 85 Yung, Wain, Robson, and Fleeman, Samuel Johnson, 1709–84, 56. Those who considered Vanity Johnson’s best poem were Walter Scott, T.S. Eliot (Walter Jackson Bate, The Achievement of Samuel Johnson, 18), and Samuel Beckett (Disjecta); and current scholars Howard Weinbrot, “Johnson’s Poetry,” in the Cambridge Companion to Samuel Johnson, 46; Robert Folkenflick, “Johnson’s Politics,” ibid., 107; and DeMaria, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 131. 86 Greene, ed., Samuel Johnson, 185 and 175. 87 Sir John Hawkins, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 172. 88 Johnson to Richardson, 10 December 1751 (Schürer, 18). 89 Sir John Hawkins, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 172. 90 Monthly Review, January 1751. 91 This is indeed at odds with Ralph Griffiths’s stated goal “to raise the Monthly above the level of periodicals conducted as partisan organs of political, religious, or literary factions” (Nangle, The Monthly Review First Series 1749–1789, xi). 92 Gentleman’s Magazine 21 (January 1751): 35. 93 Literary review magazines were a new branch of periodical growth. The Monthly Review began in 1749 and the Literary Review in 1750. 94 Grundy, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 522. 95 Ibid., 536. 96 Laetitia Matilda Hawkins, Anecdotes, Biographical Sketches, and Memoirs, 331–2. 97 Raven, British Fiction 1750–1770, 24. 98 Staves, A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 272. 99 These wages are cited from Olsen, Daily Life in Eighteenth-Century England, table 9.2.



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1 00 ODNB: http://global.oup.com.ezaccess.libraries.psu.edu/oxforddnb/info/editor/. 101 Paterson, Joineriana, 70. Maecenas (c. 70 BC) was a wealthy descendant of Etruscan kings, and a literary patron and writer. 102 Kevin J. Hayes, A Colonial Woman’s Bookshelf, 115, 174. 103 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 59. 104 This edition was published by T. Becket, P.A. Hondt, and T. Cadell. British Library c.171.d6. 105 See Jan Fergus’s research on the ledgers of Midlands booksellers the Clays, 1744–1807, in Provincial Readers in Eighteenth-Century England. Three of the male readers were Rugby schoolboys. 106 Lawrence Stone’s case studies “make absolutely clear that among the middling and lower gentry social classes, unmarried English women enjoyed what was by European standards a quite exceptional freedom of conduct in their own courtship rituals, if not necessarily to select their own spouses” (Uncertain Unions, 8). 107 See the database FBTEE: The French Book Trade in the Enlightenment. 108 The sale catalogue of Sterne’s library had both Harriot Stuart and Sarah Scott’s Journey (Munby, ed., Sale Catalogues of Libraries of Eminent Persons), vol. 5. Tobias Smollett’s library included Harriot Stuart (1750; lot 2481), see Nicolas Barker’s “The Library Catalogue of Laurence Sterne,” 14. 109 Although the 1756 edition of Sully lists her on the title page as the translator, the 1751 edition does not credit Lennox – or any other author – with the work of translation. Several factors indicate that she did translate the 1751 edition of the Memoirs of the Duke of Sully. First, Robert Dodsley – publisher of both editions – would have likely continued with the same translator for both editions. This may have been his way of providing a trial run for a novice translator and therefore testing Lennox’s skills for the sizeable 1756 edition. When the 1751 and 1756 editions are compared, the texts are not different enough to imply that they were done by different translators. Although the 1756 edition is a significantly larger undertaking, when similar passages are compared only a few words are different. However, no sentences are structurally different, and no more than just individual words diverge from the earlier edition. This could have resulted from Lennox’s more experienced editor’s eye as she went over her 1751 translation and worked to improve it for the larger edition. Also, in a letter that she wrote to Samuel Johnson on 3 February 1752, she entreats him to help her find more translation work. Thus, before this date she had already been employed as a translator. She tells Johnson that she thinks it “is easier than composition.” She already knows what is necessary in translation work and tells Johnson that she hopes to gain more employment in this manner. “I am perswaded I can make it as advantagious by industry and having been already engagd in it know what I am capable of doing by proper application” (Lennox to Johnson, 3 February 1752; Schürer, 24). There is no other work that

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Notes to pages 79−82

has been thought to be translated by Lennox prior to 1756, except the 1751 Sully – which also bears evidence of her style of translation. In her 1811 novel The Countess and Gertrude, Or Modes of Discipline, Laetitia Matilda Hawkins adds in a footnote that Lennox started translating when she was still learning French (3:159). Hawkins could have learned this from her father, Sir John Hawkins, who was a close friend of Lennox’s in 1750. Several scholars concur with the assumption that Lennox was the 1751 translator. Duncan Isles, the most prominent Lennox scholar of the late twentieth century, was the first to assert that Lennox did in fact translate the earlier 1751 edition, and scholars since him have supported this assertion. Isles in “Johnson and Charlotte Lennox” mentions “Mrs. Lennox’s translating part of Sully’s Memoirs for Dodsley in 1751” (42) and argues his case further in “The Lennox Collection” (433). In the introduction to the 1989 edition of The Female Quixote, Margaret Doody also makes this claim (xiii). Lennox’s previous biographer must have believed that Lennox was responsible for the 1751 translation; see Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 21. Also, see Schürer’s detailed account of this “mystery” in The Correspondence of Charlotte Lennox, 57. He concludes that, since “the translations read fairly similarly” (the 1751 is 125 pages, that is 7.5 per cent of the 1756 edition’s 1676 pages), either Lennox did this translation or she relied heavily on it for her 1756 edition. 110 Lodge, Sully, Colbert, and Turgot. 111 The longer title of this work is Sages et Royales Economies d’Estat. The most accessible edition of this work is still that published by Michaud and Poujoulat in 1837, which follows the editio princeps of 1662. A paraphrase of the Economies Royales was published in London in 1747 by the abbé de l’Ecluse des Loges (under the title Mémoires de … Sully, 3 vols.). The paraphrase is still the most widely read version of Sully’s life (Buissert, Sully and the Growth of Centralized Government in France 1598–1610, 17). 112 Pennington, ed., A Series of Letters between Mrs. Elizabeth Carter and Miss Catherine Talbot, from 1741–1770, 2:47. 113 This edition is only one small 212-page volume but appears to be identical to the Dodsley version. 4  Uniting the Laudable Affections of the Mind 1 The most recent English translation of Don Quixote was Charles Jervas’s in 1742. Through a printer’s error, the translator’s name is printed as Charles “Jarvis,” thus the Jarvis translation. In these years it was thought the most faithful English rendering of the novel. 2 Samuel Richardson makes this comment on 24 February 1753. See Barbauld, ed., Correspondence of Samuel Richardson, 243. Laetitia Matilda Hawkins’s Memoirs describe Lennox as “one of Johnson’s favorites” (70).



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3 Susan Kubica Howard also discusses the ways in which Johnson helped Lennox (Harriot Stuart, 19). 4 Lee, Mentoring in Eighteenth-Century British Literature and Culture; Reichard, “Boswell’s Johnson, the Hero Made by a Committee.” 5 Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson. 6 Johnson, Johnsoniana, 312. 7 Hazen, Samuel Johnson’s Prefaces and Dedications, 90; Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 1. 8 Roberts, Memoirs of the Life and Correspondence of Mrs. Hannah More, 1:201 (qtd. from McMullan, An Odd Attempt in a Woman, 189). 9 Clarke, Dr. Johnson’s Women, and Chisholm, Wits and Wives. 10 Grundy, “Samuel Johnson as Patron of Women,” 59. 11 Grundy presents strong evidence that Johnson was not only quite active in encouraging women writers but also played an important role in the “just-developing tradition of women patronizing women” (ibid., 62 and 74). 12 Though Carter and Johnson had the most contact in the 1730s, and Johnson gave her numerous opportunities to write for the Gentleman’s Magazine, they drifted apart in the 1740s and did not maintain a correspondence. 13 See Glendening, “Young Fanny Burney and the Mentor,” and Johnston, “Making an Entrance.” 14 Johnson moved in with the Thrales before 1765. Grundy also lists Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, Anna Letitia Barbauld, Fanny Burney’s sister Susan, Sarah Fielding, Anna Williams, Mary Masters, Elizabeth Harrison, Anne Penny, Mary Deverell, Mrs Cutts, Henrietta Battier, and Frances Reynolds. 15 Frances Reynolds to Elizabeth Montagu, Huntington Library MS MO 4651 (5 February 1789) (qtd. in Wendorf, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 76n70). 16 Johnson, The Vanity of Human Wishes, ll. 148, 156. 17 The “Life” was often the first article in the Lady’s Monthly Museum and was accompanied by a Cook engraving of the lady. 18 Lady’s Monthly Museum (June 1813). 19 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 11. 20 See Hanley, “Henry Fielding, Samuel Johnson, Samuel Richardson, and the Reception of Charlotte Lennox’s The Female Quixote in the Popular Press.” 21 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 381. 22 Richardson to Johnson, 2 November 1751 (Schürer, 6). 23 Richardson to Lennox, 22 November 1751 (Schürer, 12). 24 Richardson to Lady Bradshaigh, 24 February 1753 (Barbauld, ed., Correspondence of Samuel Richardson, 243). 25 Richardson had lived on the west side of Salisbury Court since 1736. Lennox’s visits began as early as November 1751.

382

Notes to pages 86−94

26 Walter Scott, Biographical Memoirs of Eminent Novelists, and Other Distinguished Persons, 1:17. 27 Schürer, 18. 28 Fielding likely knew of Lennox and The Female Quixote in November of 1751; see Schürer, 11. 29 21 November 1751 (Schürer, 9). 30 ODNB. 31 Lennox to Richardson, 21 and 22 November 1751. See Schürer, 9nn4–8. 32 The Female Quixote was published on 10 December 1751. See Walker, “Charlotte Lennox and the Collier Sisters,” for a more in-depth analysis of the nuances of this letter. 33 Johnson, The Letters of Samuel Johnson, 1:56. 34 Orrery to Samuel Johnson, 15 February 1752 (Countess of Cork and Orrery, ed., The Orrery Papers, 2:100). 35 Johnson to Orrery, 9 July 1752 (The Orrery Papers, 112). This future project would become Shakespear Illustrated (1753–4). 36 See Henson, The Fictions of Romantick Chivalry, for an excellent study of Johnson’s relationship to chivalric romances, especially 119. 37 Lefanu, Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Mrs. Frances Sheridan, 195–6. 38 Lennox, Poems on Several Occasions, 86–8. 39 Johnson first expressed his belief that fiction should be probable in his Preface to Father Jerome Lobo’s Voyage to Abyssinia (London: A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch, 1735). 40 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 66. 41 Ibid., 66. 42 Ibid. 43 Ioan Williams, ed., Novel and Romance 1700–1800, 142. 44 McIntosh, Samuel Johnson and the World of Fiction, 69. 45 In May 1750 (Sir John Hawkins, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 286). 46 Motooka, The Age of Reasons, 141. 47 Johnson, Rambler 2, 24 March 1750, The Yale Edition of the Works of Samuel Johnson, 3:14. (Hereafter cited as Works accompanied by volume number.) 48 Ibid.. 49 On 23 April 1751. 50 Johnson’s Rambler essays did not, in their first publication as individual entries in the Gentleman’s Magazine, receive a great deal of attention. It was not until they were printed by Samuel Richardson and sold as a bound edition in 1752 that they gained Johnson his first significant literary honour. Thus, for both Johnson and Lennox, 1752 was the significant launching point for their celebrity as authors. Until their deaths, Lennox would be known as “The Author of the Female Quixote” and Johnson’s name would be interchangeable with Mr Rambler. Duncan Isles first suggests the similarity between Arabella and Imperia, “Johnson, Richardson, and The Female Quixote,” 420.



Notes to pages 95−100

383

5 1 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 381. 52 See Brack and Carlile, “Samuel Johnson’s Contributions to Charlotte Lennox’s The Female Quixote.” 53 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 377. 54 See Schürer, 30–1 for a full discussion of this letter. 55 Richardson to Lennox, 13 January 1752 (Schürer, 21). 56 Bartolomeo, “Female Quixotism v. ‘Feminine’ Tragedy,” 163. 57 Duncan Isles, both a Johnson and a Lennox scholar, also believes that, without substantiating evidence otherwise, we should assume that the final chapter was written by Lennox … and that if the style seems different, that perhaps she had the intention of imitating Johnson (Isles, “Johnson, Richardson, and The Female Quixote,” 422). David Marshall, in “Writing Masters and ‘Masculine Exercises’ in The Female Quixote,” further articulates reasons for giving Lennox full credit (119). 58 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 368. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., 369–70. 61 Isles, “The Lennox Collection.” 62 Johnson to Lennox, undated letter, c. 1757–79? (Schürer, 74). 63 Johnson to Lennox, c. 1779–84 (Schürer, 197). 64 Isles, “Johnson, Richardson, and The Female Quixote,” 420n194; Schürer, 198n5. 65 Lennox to Lydia Clerke, 30 August 1776 (Schürer, 175–7). 66 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 371. 67 For an insightful discussion see Uddén, “Narratives and Counter-Narratives,” 453. 68 Fontenelle, Entretiens sur la pluralité des mondes (1686). 69 Thanks to Patty Hamilton for pointing me to the Orlando Project, which notes this fact in its Lennox pages. See Algarotti’s The Philosophy of Sir Isaac Newton Explained, in Six dialogues, on Light and Colours, between a Lady and the Author. Algarotti is in dialogue with Fontenelle’s text and dedicates his work to Fontenelle: “I have endeavoured to set truth, accompanied with all that is necessary to demonstrate it, in a pleasing light, and to render it agreeable to that sex, which had rather perceive than understand … You have embellished the Cartesian philosophy; and I have endeavoured to soften the Newtonian, and render its very severities agreeable. I have endeavoured as much as possible to render it lively, and make my readers interest themselves in it as they would in a composition for the theatre. Is there any thing, especially where ladies are concerned, in which a writer should omit any endeavours to move the heart? … I have at least opened the way to something, which is neither grammar nor sonnet; and I shall flatter myself to have done much more, if what the ladies inspired me with, has the good fortune to meet with you approbation” (British Library 8716.b.10). 70 Also see Howard’s introduction to her edition of Harriot Stuart for treatments of Lennox’s early engagement with Francis Hutcheson.

384

Notes to pages 100−10

71 Fiering, Moral Philosophy at Seventeenth-Century Harvard, 199. See Brodie, ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Scottish Enlightenment, 320, who argues for Hutcheson’s influence on Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, and Wills, Inventing America. This idea was refuted by Hamowy, “Jefferson and the Scottish Enlightenment.” 72 Lennox, Harriot Stuart, 242. 73 “Proposals for a Printing by Subscription” of Poems on Several Occasions appeared on 4 November 1752 (Schürer, 39–40). 74 “Sensible reader” is Henry Fielding’s assessment of who will read The Female Quixote (Covent Garden Journal, 282). See also the Gentleman’s Magazine 22 (March 1752): 146. 75 Motooka, “Coming to a Bad End,” 15. 76 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 69. 77 Mack, “Quixotic Ethnography,” 210. 78 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 383. 79 Hutcheson, An Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections, xi. 80 Motooka, The Age of Reasons, 136. 81 Johnson to Lennox, 12 March 1752 (Schürer, 29). 82 Richardson to Lennox, 6 April 1752 (Schürer, 34). 83 Fielding, The Covent-Garden Journal, 281–2. 84 Maria Edgeworth, Angelina; or, L’Amie Inconnue (1801); Elizabeth Hamilton, Memoirs of Modern Philosophers (1800); Tabitha Gilman Tenney, Female Quixotism: Exhibited in the Romantic Opinions and Extravagant Adventures of Dorcasina Sheldon (1801); and Eaton Stannard Barrett, The Heroine: Or, Adventures of Cherubina (1813). 85 Moskal, “‘To Speak in Sanchean Phrase,’” 30–1. 86 Johnson, Works, 4:24. 87 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 368–9. 88 Clarke, Dr. Johnson’s Women, 91. 5  Debating “Genius” 1 This chapter owes a debt to Patty Hamilton’s excellent work on Lennox: “Miguel & Henry & Sam & Charlotte” and “The Only Excellence of Falsehood.” 2 Lennox’s interest in the development of the novel as it is expressed in Shakespear Illustrated is skilfully described by Kramnick in “Reading Shakespeare’s Novels.” 3 Lennox, Shakespear Illustrated, 1:89. 4 Lennox was spelling “Shakespeare” in one of the many accepted ways of the period. 5 Vickers, ed., Shakespeare: The Critical Heritage, Volume 4, 1753–1765, 1. 6 Hume, Reconstructing Contexts, 70. 7 For twentieth-century scholarship on Shakespear Illustrated, see Young, “Samuel Johnson on Shakespeare.” In recent decades, critics have re-evaluated Shakespear Illustrated; see Doody, “Shakespeare’s Novels,” 298; Eger, “Female Champions,” in Bluestockings, 121–62; and Ritchie, Women and Shakespeare in the Eighteenth Century.



Notes to pages 110−14

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8 Vickers, ed., Shakespeare: The Critical Heritage, Volume 3, 1733–1752, 194, 199, 442, 430, and 464. Lennox had some degree of personal connection (see Lennox to Johnson, 17 June 1777; Schürer, 189–90) with Dr Dodd, preacher and writer, who experienced even more renown for his popular Beauties of Shakespear. His successes caused him to live beyond his means and eventually be executed for debt, prompting Edwin Willoughby’s The Unfortunate Dr. Dodd: The Tragedy of an Incurable Optimist (London and New York: n.p., 1958). 9 Kramnick, Making of the English Canon, also notes these crucial contributions by Lennox and analyses her possible valuing of prose fiction, what she calls “novels,” over plays because they can articulate meaning more accurately. Notably, Lennox goes on to write plays and have success on the stage. 10 Monsieur Gueudiville’s French translation of Plautus’s Manaechmi. 11 Orrery to Lennox, 9 May 1752 (Schürer, 36). 12 Johnson, “Proposal for a Critical Edition of Shakespeare,” along with his Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth, with Remarks on Sir T.H.’s (Sir Thomas Hanmer’s) Edition of Shakespeare. 13 Johnson to Lennox, 12 March 1752. Tetty died just five days later (Schürer, 32). 14 Schürer, 33. 15 Gerard Langbaine, An Account of the English Dramatic Poets (Oxford, 1691). 16 Thomas Rymer, A Short View of Tragedy (London, 1693). 17 Nicholas Rowe, The Works of William Shakespear (London, 1709). 18 Alexander Pope, The Works of Shakespear (London, 1725). 19 Lewis Theobald, Works of Shakespeare (London, 1733). 20 Thomas Hanmer, Shakespeare (Oxford, 1744). 21 William Warburton, The Works of Shakespeare (London, 1747). 22 Sherbo, Samuel Johnson, Editor of Shakespeare, 52. 23 In fact, after Lennox’s book, Elizabeth Montagu’s An Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakespear (1769) and Elizabeth Griffith’s The Morality of Shakespeare’s Drama Illustrated (1775) appeared. 24 “Over against the King’s Bakers in Berry St” (now Bury St.), near St James’s Park and Green Park (Johnson to Lennox, 6 March 1753; Schürer, 43). The Orange Coffeehouse in Haymarket was a meeting place for foreigners, opera singers, and dancing masters (London Coffee Houses). Thanks to A.J. Schmitz for assistance in learning more about the Orange. 25 Aberdeen Literary Chronicle, 2 July 1789, 432. Also see Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 15 for European Magazine 15:349 (May 1789), as this refers to meeting of Baretti and Alexander Lennox at the Orange Coffee-house. Baretti arrived in 1751 (Gallup, “Giuseppe Baretti’s Work in England”). 26 Johnson and Baretti maintained a friendship until Johnson’s death in 1784. Baretti was also beneficial to Johnson’s career. See Lubbers-van der Brugge, Johnson and Baretti, and Collison-Morley, Giuseppe Baretti.

386

Notes to pages 114−20

27 Spenser rewrites it for his own purpose as Phaon and Claribell in book 2 of The Faerie Queene (1590). 28 Lennox, Shakespear Illustrated, 3:262–3. “Ariosto’s story of Ariodante and Ginevra, narrated by the latter’s maid Dalinda upon her own rescue on the part of Rinaldo, was the source of many imitations and adaptations” (Scarsi, Translating Women, 175). See Prouty, The Sources of “Much Ado about Nothing,” 5. See also Petrina, “Ariosto in Scotland,” and Haddad. “Englishing Ariosto.” 29 Lennox, Shakespear Illustrated, 3:267. 30 Ibid., 3:261, 270. 31 Lady’s Museum 10:753–75. 32 Lennox, Shakespear Illustrated, 1:24. 33 Langbaine, An Account of the English Dramatic Poets, 455–66; Dryden, Essays of John Dryden, 1:146. 34 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 197. 35 Johnson to Lennox, c. April–May 1753 (Schürer, 45); Schürer notes Johnson’s possible reference to “Paradise Lost, ‘But feathered soon and fledge / They summed their pens, and soaring the air sublime / With clan despised the ground’ (VII 420–22), or Paradise Regained, where the Spirit is asked to ‘inspire, / As thou art wont, my prompted song else mute / And bear through highth or depth of nature’s bounds / With prosperous wing full summed to tell of deeds / Above heroic, though in secret done’ (I 11–15)” (Schürer, 46n5). 36 “Mrs Lennox, the Author of the Female Quixote, has met with such success in her Shakespeare illustrated, that her Bookseller has engag’d her to add a third volume.” Birch to Yorke, London, 23 June 1753, British Library Add. MSS 35,398, ff. 120–1. Thanks to Markman Ellis for acquainting me with this letter. 37 Garrick to Lennox, 12 August 1753 (Schürer, 47–8). 38 Birch to Yorke, London, 23 June 1753, British Library Add. MSS 35,398, ff. 120–1. 39 Lauder, An Essay on Milton’s Use and Imitations of the Moderns (1741). See Schürer, 49 for a detailed discussion. 40 Garrick to Lennox, 12 August 1753 (Schürer, 47). 41 Ibid. (Schürer, 47–8). 42 Montagu, September 1753, Huntington MO 495 (qtd. from Ellis, “Reading Practices in Elizabeth Montagu’s Epistolary Network of the 1750s,” 225). 43 Lennox, Shakespear Illustrated, 2:219. 44 Lady’s Magazine Or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex, Supplement for 1781, 12 (1781), 706. Thanks to Megan Hiatt for sharing this fact. 45 Johnson’s dedication in Lennox, Shakespear Illustrated, 1:4–5. 46 Johnson’s second “Proposals” finally appeared on 2 June 1756. 47 Johnson, Johnson’s Proposals for his Edition of Shakespeare, 6–7. 48 Tyers, “A Biographical Sketch of Dr. Johnson,” Johnsonian Miscelllanies, 358.



Notes to pages 120−6

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49 Fleeman, A Bibliography of the Works of Samuel Johnson, 355; see Collins, Authorship in the Days of Johnson. 50 Sherbo, Samuel Johnson, Editor of Shakespeare, 8–10. 51 Ibid., 7. 52 Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, ed. Croker, 1:278. 53 Ibid., 1:515. 54 Macaulay, The Life and Works of Lord Macaulay, 344 (Samuel Johnson’s entry was originally published December 1856). 55 George Colman, London Magazine 34 (October 1765): 538. 56 Sir John Hawkins, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 265. 57 See Sherbo, Samuel Johnson, Editor of Shakespeare, for a thorough discussion of the reception of Johnson’s Shakespeare. 58 “… we seem to come into possession of the full meaning of [the novelty of Johnson’s ideas] now for the first time, and in so felicitous and authoritative a form that we have neither power to better nor wish to change it. We may then credit him with that highest and most difficult originality of all, which subsumes and supersedes earlier statements and compels later ones into its own channel. To this kind of originality, in its best pages, Johnson’s Preface attains. It is not to be superseded, and it is indispensable.” The Yale Edition of the Works of Samuel Johnson, 7:xxxviii. (Hereafter cited as Works accompanied by volume number.) 59 Wain, Samuel Johnson, 255. 60 Johnson, Works, 7:xv. 61 Sherbo, Samuel Johnson, Editor of Shakespeare, 56. 62 Johnson, Works, 7:55n1; 64n1; 86n9. 63 Ibid., 7:61. 64 Ibid., 7:82. 65 Johnson, The Dictionary of the English Language, n.p. 66 Idler 40 was published on 20 January 1759. Johnson’s “Life of Milton” appeared in Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets (1779–81). For a discussion of Johnson’s struggle with the concept of “genius,” see Lipking. “Johnson and Genius,” 85. 67 Johnson, Works, 7:54–5. 68 Ibid., 7:49. 69 Ibid., 7:452. 70 Ibid., 7:86. 71 Lennox, Shakespear Illustrated, 1:90. 72 Lady’s Museum 6:409. Miriam Small points out this fact in “The Source of a Note in Johnson’s Edition of Macbeth.” 73 Garrick, An Essay on Acting … To Which Will Be Added, a Short Criticism on His Acting Macbeth (London: W. Bickerton, 1744). Thanks to Fiona Ritchie for this information.

388

Notes to pages 127−31

7 4 Johnson, Works, 7:36. 75 Ibid., 7:790–1. 76 Arthur Sherbo (Samuel Johnson) also analyses Johnson’s Macbeth notes. However, he does not mention Johnson’s changed note in this scene. A Works note, also written by Sherbo, explains that Duncan Isles identified John Boyle, Earl of Cork and Orrery, as this “anonymous critick” (Works, 8:791). In his “Lennox Collection,” Isles refers to Orrery giving Lennox some material about Macbeth which “must have contained what became ‘The History of Macbeth’” (19:1, 37n51). However, no evidence exists that confirms Orrery as the “anonymous critick.” See chapter 7 for explanation of why this critic, “C.D.,” was likely Lennox. Small also discusses this issue in “The Source of a Note in Johnson’s Edition of Macbeth” and concludes that “If Johnson did not read ‘Charlotte’s book’ himself, it is probable that Mrs. Lennox called to his attention this Shakespearean note from her publication.” 77 See Berland, “Frances Brooke and David Garrick.” 78 John Dennis, Essay on the Genius and Writings of Shakespeare (1712); Sherbo, Samuel Johnson, Editor of Shakespeare, 52. 79 David Nichol Smith, Shakespeare in the Eighteenth Century, 41. 80 Patu wrote this letter on 23 September 1755 while Garrick was living in the fashionable neighbourhood of Pasy in Paris. Elie Catherine Fréron ran the review journal Journal Etranger, where Patu’s review of Shakespeare Illustrated appeared in December 1755 (29). Patu translated Petites Pieces du theatre Anglais (1756), 2 vols., and co-wrote a play called Farewell to Taste (1754). Thanks to Mary Helen McMurran for assistance with this French source (Garrick, Private Correspondences of David Garrick, 2:405). 81 Monthly Review 9 (August 1753): 145. 82 Gentleman’s Magazine 23 (June 1753): 256. 83 Johnson, The Letters of Samuel Johnson, 1:67–8. 84 Warton, Biographical Memoirs, 217. Warton published the first volume of Essay on the Genius and Writing of Pope in 1756. Vol. 2 appeared in 1782. He studied, taught, and became headmaster at Winchester College. 85 See Weinbrot, Eighteenth-Century Satire. 86 T.B. was determined to be Thomas Barker by Sherbo in “Additions to the Nichols File of the Gentleman’s Magazine,” 230. 87 Gentleman’s Magazine 24 (May 1754): 233–4. 88 Gentleman’s Magazine 24 (July 1754): 311. 89 This praise appeared in a 1754 translation of The Female Quixote (Don Quixote im Reifrocke), 113–14. 90 “Arts & Entertainment,” London Chronicle, no. 21, 15–17 February 1757, 168. 91 This essay was addressed to Joseph Craddock. 92 Capell, Gentleman’s Magazine 24 (1754): 311.



Notes to pages 131−40

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93 Ritchie is the first to identify this. See her extended discussion in Women and Shakespeare in the Eighteenth Century, 65–7. 94 England, Garrick and Stratford, 252. 95 Jonathan Bate, “How Shakespeare Conquered the World.” 96 This comment was published in a review of Johnson’s Shakespeare (Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 18 January 1766). 97 ODNB. 98 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 158–9. 99 Ibid. 100 A quote from Thomas Warton’s 15 April 1786 letter to James Boswell, in The Correspondence of James Boswell, ed. Charles N. Fifer (New York: McGraw Hill, 1976), 233. 101 Mary Jones to Charlotte Lennox, 16 December 1754 (Schürer, 52–3). 102 See Johnson, Works, 18:315 for his explanation in the preface of the need to have explanations of words, since synonyms don’t adequately communicate meaning. 103 Ibid., 18:319. 104 Charlotte Brewer, “‘A Goose-Quill or a Gander’s?’” 124. 105 Johnson, Works, 18:318. 106 Lennox is the only author cited under the definition for “uncle,” too. 107 See Boswell’s “Proposals for Publishing a New and Improved Edition of Shakespeare Illustrated by Charlotte Lennox,” 1791. Charlotte Lennox Papers, 1752–1795, MS Eng 1269, item 48, Houghton Library, Harvard University. 6  Prospering in a Patronizing Profession 1 Dedication to Sully, 5 September 1755. 2 The proposal for this subscription edition was drawn up on 4 November 1752. See Schürer, 39–42. 3 Oliver Goldsmith, 1759 (qtd. from Clarke, Dr. Johnson’s Women, 120). 4 Paterson, Joineriana, 172. 5 Henry Fielding, The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, ed. Harold Pagliaro (Nardon Press, 1963), 39. 6 Masters, Familiar Letters and Poems on Several Occasions. Masters was also a friend of Samuel Johnson and Edmund Cave. She came from a humble background and had a limited education. A short biography appears in Poems: “The author of the following poems never read a Treatise of Rhetorick, or an Art of Poetry, nor was ever taught her English Grammar. Her Education rose no higher than the Spelling Book, or the Writing Master: her Genius to Poetry was always browbeat and discountenanced by her Parents, and till her Merit got the better of her Fortune, she was shut out from all Commerce with the more knowing and polite part of the world” (228–9).

390

Notes to pages 140−9

7 Small first asserted this (Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 29). 8 Gray wrote to William Mason (1724–97), his friend, literary executor, and biographer: “Last week I had an application from a broken tradesman (whose wife I knew) to desire my interest with the Duke of Newcastle for a tide-waiter’s place” (The Correspondence of Thomas Gray and William Mason, 278). 9 See McMurran, The Spread of Novels; Julie Chandler Hayes, Translation, Subjectivity, and Culture in France and England, 1600–1800; and Stockhorst, ed., Cultural Transfer through Translation. 10 McMurran, The Spread of Novels, 46. 11 Ibid., 72. 12 Quoted from ibid., 72–3. 13 Lennox, The Female Quixote, 7. 14 First advertised 18 October 1755 in the London Evening Post. Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully, was born in 1560 and died in 1641. 15 The agency that translation inspired in women writers is helpfully described by Staves: “Women increasingly saw their own translations from the modern European languages as demonstrating literary powers and intellectual interests analogous to those that educated men sought to display in their translations from Greek and Latin” (A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 207). 16 Talbot to Carter, 9 February 1747, in Pennington, ed., A Series of Letters between Mrs. Elizabeth Carter and Miss Catherine Talbot, from 1741–1770, 1:190–1. 17 Monthly Review 14 “Appendix” (1756): 561. 18 Lennox, Preface to Sully (1755), i–ii. 19 Lennox, Sully (1756), x. 20 Schürer speculates that this is probably the “Tryal of Ravaillac for the Murder of Henry the Great.” Lennox says, “I have done a great part of the trial. I have found it a most difficult piece of work on account of the ignorance of the transcriber” (28 July 1755; Schürer, 58–9). 21 Phillips, Society and Sentiment. 22 London Evening Post, 18 October 1755. 23 Hazen has addressed the possibility that Samuel Johnson wrote this Dedication (Samuel Johnson’s Prefaces and Dedications, 110–16). But the evidence remains thin. 24 Henretta, “Salutary Neglect,” 3. 25 Literary Magazine 1 (September 1756): 281–2. 26 Lennox to Millar, 28 July 1755 (Schürer 55–6). 27 Printing Ledger for Sully, 5 September 1755 (Schürer, 63). Lennox’s three other translations for Millar – Berci, Maintenon, and Brumoy, – do not contain indexes. 28 Lennox, Henrietta, 81. 29 Lennox to Millar, 28 July 1755 (Schürer 55–6). 30 Clarke, The Rise and Fall of a Woman of Letters, 119. See Clarke for more detailed representations of women’s struggles with patronage.



Notes to pages 149−52

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31 William Strahan printed the first and second editions of Sully. Strahan ledgers, first edition of five hundred copies printed 5 September 1755; second edition printed in March 1757 (Schürer, 63 and 82). 32 Walter Jackson Bate, Samuel Johnson. 33 Literary Magazine 1 (September 1756). 34 Monthly Review 14 (June 1756): 561. 35 Markman Ellis, “Reading Practices in Elizabeth Montagu’s Epistolary Network of the 1750s,” 219–22. 36 Talbot to Carter, 1751, in Pennington, ed., A Series of Letters between Mrs. Elizabeth Carter and Miss Catherine Talbot, from 1741–1770, 2:47. 37 Johnson to Lennox, 30 July 1756 (Schürer, 67–9). 38 The Memoirs of the Countess of Berci was first advertised on 6 April 1756 in the London Evening Post. 39 This romance was first translated into English in 1621, and met with such great success with the English public that three more editions followed in quick succession: 1627, 1635, and 1652. 40 Monthly Review 14 (June 1756): 516–20. See Vogler, “Vital d’Audiguier and Charlotte Lennox,” for an analysis of the history of this adaptation. 41 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 225. 42 Tencin’s nephew Antoine de Ferriol has been credited in the past for sharing authorship with Tencin. 43 Nancy K. Miller, “1735,” 438. 44 See D’Ezio, Introduction to The History of the Count de Comminge. 45 Ibid., 6. 46 Ibid., 7. 47 François Thomas Marie de Baculard d’Arnaud, Les Amans malheureux, ou le Comte de Comminge, drame en trois actes et en vers (The Hague and Paris: L’Esclapart, 1764). 48 Nancy K. Miller, “1735,” 438. 49 With the title The Fatal Legacy; or Memoirs of the Count de Comminge. From the French of Monsieur d’Arnaud (Dublin: C. Jackson, 1781). However, this was Lennox’s translation of Tencin’s Memoires, not a translation of d’Arnaud. 50 In The New Novelist’s Magazine; or, Entertaining library of pleasing and instructive histories, romances and other exemplary little novels (2 vols., London, 1786–7), where it appears as The History of the Count de Comminge. Supposed to be written by himself. Translated from the French. By Mrs. Lennox (2:275–301). 51 Hoey had perhaps discovered the novel through Lennox’s periodical, which he may have pirated (see chapter 7). English scholarship on Comminge includes Dorn, “Reading Women Reading History”; Gallagher, “Nobody’s Credit,” in Nobody’s Story, 145–201; Jensen, “The Inheritance of Masculinity and the Limits of Heterosexual Revision”; Jones, “Madame de Tencin”; Kelley, “Epiphanies”;

392

Notes to pages 152−6

Montfort, “Alexandrine-Claude Guérin de Tencin (1682–1749)”; Sartori, “ClaudineAlexandrine Guérin de Tencin.” 52 Monthly Review 14 (June 1756): 516–20. 53 Critical Review 1 (May 1756): 312. 54 Maintenon, 19 April 1757 (“This day published,” London Evening Post); Philander, 20 November 1757 (date on Johnson’s dedication and title page is also 1757); Henrietta, 2 February 1758 (“This day published,” London Evening Post). 55 Staves, A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 293–6. 56 Ellis, “Reading Practices in Elizabeth Montagu’s Epistolary Network of the 1750s,” 221. 57 Small confirmed that, for her translation, Lennox used L’Angliviel de la Beaumelle, Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Mme. De Maintenon, et à celle du siècle passé, 6 vols. (Amsterdam: Aux depens de l’auteur, 1755) (Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 214). 58 Walpole to Strafford, June 1756 (Walpole, Letters, 3:429; qtd. from Kyanston, “The Life and Writing of Charlotte Lennox,” 158). 59 She received the sum on 21 February 1757. British Library Add. MSS 38730 f. 126. Griffin calls the eighty-six pounds seventeen shillings and sixpence “copy money” (Literary Patronage, 207). 60 Mrs Montagu noted that a Scottish clergyman could live comfortably on 40 pounds per year (Clarke, Dr. Johnson’s Women, 119). Swift earned 200 pounds for Gulliver’s Travels, and Fielding earned 183 pounds for Joseph Andrews. 61 Pennington, ed., A Series of Letters Between Mrs. Elizabeth Carter and Miss Catherine Talbot, from 1741–1770, 2:103–4. 62 Ellis, “Reading Practices in Elizabeth Montagu’s Epistolary Network of the 1750s,” 221. 63 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 22. Appearing a year before Maintenon, the first edition of Lennox’s novel Henrietta had no dedication. Lennox would later apologize to the Duchess of Newcastle for not choosing her. She did, however, dedicate her second edition in 1761 to the duchess, making this Lennox’s third title with a female dedicatee. Politics for the Duke of Newcastle were especially fraught in December 1757/January 1758. Perhaps Lennox had experienced the tensions in trying to find a dedicatee for Maintenon, in April 1757 (the dedication is signed 17 April 1757). 64 British Library Add. MSS 38730 f. 126. 65 The letter arrived at Gerrard Street, Soho (Schürer, 80). 66 Literary Review 2 (1757): 427–31, 469–73. 67 Monthly Review 17 (July 1757): 80–1. Cf. Nangle, The Monthly Review, 227. 68 Voltaire had parodied romance conventions in Candide. See van den Heuvel, Voltaire dans ses contes, and Pierre de Saint Victor, “Candide” (qtd. from Lynch, “Romance Conventions in Voltaire’s Candide”).



Notes to pages 156−60

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69 The Age of Louis XIV has been frequently misattributed to Lennox. However, there is no evidence that she translated this text. Around the same time, La Beaumelle wrote Notes sur le siècle de Louis XIV. 70 Lennox, Philander, 25. 71 Ibid., 31. 72 Ibid., 36. 73 Garrick to Lennox, 23 February 1757 or 8 February 1758 (Schürer, 83). 74 Ibid. 75 Preface to Lennox, The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy (by Johnson, 1:xxi). See Kynaston, “The Life and Writing of Charlotte Lennox,” 134. 76 Garrick to Lennox, 23 February 1757 or 8 February 1758 (Schürer, 83). 77 Philander wasn’t completed until the end of 1757. 78 James Caulfeild, first Earl of Charlemont, took his seat in the Irish House of Lords in 1755. Dustin Griffin says he was “a key political supporter of Rockingham” (Literary Patronage, 207). According to the ODNB, his political hero was William Pitt, and he said of himself that he was “sometimes obliged to oppose the measures of government,” concluding “that in Ireland at least, a permanent and respectable opposition is absolutely and essentially necessary.” He defined his political credo in patriot terms as that of “emancipating my country” (The Manuscripts and Correspondence of James, First Earl of Charlemont, 2 vols., Historical Manuscripts Commission 28 (1891–4), 1:7). “In London his involvement with the Society of Dilettanti allowed him to sustain his passionate interest in classical antiquity.” This society “pooled its financial resources to effect a change in British taste … The Dilettanti’s most influential and longstanding influence began in the early 1750s when it sponsored James Stuart and Nicholas Revett’s Athenian expedition “to observe, record, and publish significant monumental remains of Greek antiquities.” Antiquities of Athens (1762) was “widely hailed as a milestone in the history of architectural representation” (ODNB). This society could have played some role in encouraging Lennox’s Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, as they were financially supporting these authors in 1757. 79 Critical Review (November 1757): 468. 80 Monthly Review (December 1757): 568. 81 “Introduction” to Lennox’s Henrietta, ed. Perry and Carlile, ix. 82 Henrietta was published with no dedication for unexplained reasons. See Havens, “Patronage in the Novels and Letters of Charlotte Lennox,” for a detailed discussion of Lennox’s representations of patronage in her novels. 83 Here Lennox illustrates the mutual benefit of patronage relationships in eighteenthcentury authorship. See Griffin, Literary Patronage, 13–44. 84 Lennox, Henrietta, 50. 85 Robertson to Lennox, 6 April 1759 (Schürer, 97–9). This letter is about Lennox’s plan to write a history of the first Elizabethan age.

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Notes to pages 160−2

86 Brown, Louise Gottsched the Translator, 31. The Female Quixote and Shakespear Illustrated are listed in J.C. Gottsched’s “Catalogue de la Bibliotheque Choisie, de Feue Madame Gottsched, née Kulmus, proprement reliée en veau doré, et autres relieres Angloises, et Italiennes.” In Louise Gottsched, Sämmtliche kleinere Gedichte, 512 and 514. Lennox sent all three volumes of Shakespear Illustrated to her from London. See Sämmtliche kleinere Gedichte, ed. J.C. Gottsched (Leipzig: Breitkopf, 1763), 512, items 126–8 and note, “Diess hat die Verfasserin [i.e., Lennox], aus London, der Wohlsel [i.e., the deceased Frau Gottsched], selbst überschicket.” Isles notes that “some personal contact between Lennox and the Gottscheds probably took place, especially as Gottsched’s Shakespear Illustrated 53 review contained the first published claims that Lennox was born in America, and Lennox and the Gottscheds both translated (or part-translated) Madame de Maintenon’s Memoirs into their respective native tongues at about the same time (1757)” (Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 19.4: 423–4n203). 87 Regan, Reading 1759, 1–2. See also McLynn, 1759. 88 References are as follows: Poems – Sappho, Ovid, and Horace; Harriot Stuart – Homer, Plato, Cicero, and Ovid; Sophia – Homer and Cicero. 89 Père Pierre Brumoy (1668–1742), born in Rouen, was a mathematics teacher, an accomplished poet, dramatist, philosopher, and historian. See James Gray, “Dr. Johnson, Charlotte Lennox, and the Englishing of Father Brumoy.” 90 Walton, Found in Translation, 39. See Walton for further analysis of Greek Theatre in relation to other translations of Greek drama into English. 91 Critical Review (February 1760): 127. 92 Walton identifies Alcestis and Hippolytus as first translated by Lennox into English. 93 265 mm by 210 mm or about 10.4 by 8.3 inches. 94 Critical Review (February 1769): 123. 95 Lennox quoted twice from Aeschylus in Henrietta: “I would rather be ignorant than wise in the foreboding of evil” and the following phrase, which has been translated in various ways: “It is in the character of very few men to honour without envy a friend who has prospered”; “Few men have the natural strength to honour without envy a friend’s success without envy”; “For not many men, the proverb saith, can love a friend who fortune prospereth unenvying.” 96 Robertson to Lennox, 6 April 1759 (Schürer, 97–9). 97 Lennox to Birch, 16 March 1759 (Schürer, 95). 98 Harte to Lennox, 13 January 1759 (Schürer, 92). 99 Garrick to Lennox, February 1757 or 1758 (Schürer, 83–4). 100 Sharpe’s dates are 1713–71. 101 In the first volume, Lennox included an introduction by Orrery, who also translated “The Theatre of the Greeks,” “The Original of Tragedy,” and “The Parallel of the Theatres,” in this volume. The second volume, all 538 pages, was translated



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entirely by Lennox. This volume included Euripides’ Iphigenia in Tauris. In the third volume, she translated almost two-thirds herself, including a summary of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. Johnson was responsible for two essays, “A Dissertation on the Greek Comedy” and “The General Conclusion of the Book.” Sharpe translated Aristophanes’ The Frogs. Grainger translated The Cyclops, John Borryeau translated the Discourse on that play, and an anonymous person going only by “a young gentleman” translated Aristophanes’ comedies The Birds and Peace. 102 Lennox to Boyle, 29 October 1758 (Schürer, 88–9). 103 Harte to Lennox, 13 January 1759 (Schürer, 92–4). 104 Orrery to Lennox, 7 May 1759 (Schürer, 102–3). 105 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 218; Monthly Review 23 (November 1760): 287–302, 452–67. 106 I would like to thank Gillian Dow, Karen Kukkonen, and Mary Helen McMurran for help in studying Lennox’s French. 107 Brumoy, Le Theatre des Grecs, 1:123, Lennox, The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, 1:101. 108 Brumoy, Le Theatre des Grecs, 1:126, Lennox, The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, 1:104. 109 Brumoy, Le Theatre des Grecs, 1:128, Lennox, The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, 1:106. 110 Brumoy, Le Theatre des Grecs, 1:128, Lennox, The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, 1:106. 111 Brumoy, Le Theatre des Grecs, 1:128, Lennox The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, 1:106. 112 Gentleman’s Magazine 30 (February 1760): 96. 113 Critical Review 9 (February 1760): 116–27. 114 Berg, The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance, 143–4. 115 “Introduction by a Woman” in Centlivre’s collected Works, 1:10. 116 Gregory Sharpe to Lennox, 23 April 1758 (Schürer, 86–7). 117 I consulted with several George III scholars and handwriting experts, and though the results were not conclusive, it is reasonable to speculate that these notes are indeed those of the Prince of Wales, later King George III. 118 George III, The Correspondence of King George the Third with Lord North from 1768 to 1783, xxvii. 119 Barbauld, ed., The British Novelists, 24:i. Barbauld also noted that Lennox “likewise gave to the world Shakespear Illustrated, in three volumes.” 120 Sale catalogue of Dr Johnson’s library, 16 February 1785 (Kynaston, “The Life and Writing of Charlotte Lennox,” 164). 121 Poems, Harriot Stuart, The Female Quixote, Shakespear Illustrated, Sully, Berci, Henrietta, Maintenon, Philander, and Greek Theatre.

396

Notes to pages 167−73

1 22 Lennox to Duchess of Newcastle, 6 October 1760 (Schürer, 106–7). 123 This kindness was extended during the winter of 1759–60. 7  “The Same Darling End … by Different Means” 1 Thanks to Manushag Powell for identifying this allusion to Alexander Pope, “Letter II” of Letters to Several Ladies,” in Letters of Mr. Pope, and Several Eminent Persons (London: T. Cooper, 1735), 127 (Powell, “See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil”). 2 Lady’s Museum 2:1. 3 Lady’s Museum 1:129, 144. 4 McCarthy, Anna Letitia Barbauld, 97n2. 5 London Chronicle, 19 February 1760, Whitehall Evening Post, 21–3 February 1760, and Public Ledger, 23 February 1760. 6 Milton, “Of Education” (1644), 631–2. 7 A useful primer on English women’s history prior to the eighteenth-century is Henderson and McManus, Half Humankind. 8 Harris in Beyond Her Sphere provides a helpful explanation of the perceptions of women’s intellect from the medieval period to the eighteenth century. 9 Skedd, “Women Teachers and the Expansion of Girls’ Schooling in England,” 120. 10 Skedd estimates that teaching was the fifth most common occupation for women during the Hanoverian period. This does not include governesses in private families. Teaching follows 1) domestic service, 2) cotton manufacture, 3) dressmaking and millinery, and 4) agriculture (“Women Teachers and the Expansion of Girls’ Schooling in England,” 103). 11 See Trifler essays in each issue (1–11) of the Lady’s Museum. 12 Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 18. 13 Ibid., 208. 14 Ibid. 15 Oliver Goldsmith’s biographer condescendingly proclaims, “The booksellers were never more active than at the close of 1759 … Every week had its spawn of periodical publications; feeble, but of desperate fecundity … Of specimens which a very few weeks, between the close of 1759 and the beginning of 1760, added to a multitude already wearing out their brief existence. They were: the Royal Magazine, or Gentleman’s Monthly Companion; the Impartial Review, or Literary Journal; the Weekly Magazine of Gentlemen and Ladies’ Polite Companion; the Ladies Magazine; the Public Magazine; the Imperial Magazine; the Royal Female Magazine ; the Universal Review; the Lady’s Museum; the Musical Magazine; and the British Magazine, or Monthly Repository for Gentlemen and Ladies” (Forster, Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith, 2:199). This list leaves out the Young Misses Magazine and the Young Ladies Magazine, both of which were edited by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont. Goldsmith’s



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mention of “the Ladies Magazine” was the Lady’s Magazine; or Polite Companion for the Fair Sex, which he edited. 16 Powell, Performing Authorship in Eighteenth-Century English Periodicals, 3–4. 17 Lennox designed the Lady’s Museum for women. Though she hoped to “please” both sexes, she said she would be happy if it was accepted by women. “Universally as I could wish to please in this paper, yet I shall be contented, if it finds only a favourable acceptance with my own sex, to whose amusement it is chiefly designed to contribute” (Lady’s Museum 1:4). 18 Paul-Victor de Sèze, Recherches phisiologiques et philosophiques sur la sensibilité ou la vie animale (Paris: Prault, 1786). 19 Hustvedt, The Summer without Men, 126. 20 Powell, Performing Authorship in Eighteenth-Century Periodicals, 184–5. 21 Montagu’s own periodical was The Nonsense of Common Sense, and she published essays anonymously in periodicals such as the Spectator and pseudonymously as “A Turkey Merchant.” 22 This translation made her name and fortune, as she earned a remarkable one thousand pounds in subscription money (Staves, A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 309–15). 23 Phronesis is considered at length in Aristotle’s Nichomachian Ethics. 24 See Pocock, Virtue, Commerce, and History, 41–2. 25 Titles include “The History of Harriot and Sophia,” a novel by Lennox; “The History of the Dutchess of Beaufort,” translated and adapted by Lennox; “An Ode”; “To Death. An Irregular Ode”; “On Reading a Poem”; “Of the Studies Proper for Women,” translated by Lennox from chapter 2 of Villemert’s L’Ami des femmes ou La Morale du sexe (1758); “A Song, Philander,” set by Mr Oswald; “Philosophy for the Ladies”; “The Lady’s Geography”; The History of the Count de Comminge, translated by Lennox; “An Account of the Vestal Virgins”; “An Essay on the Original Inhabitants of Great Britain”; “The Tryal of the Maid of Orleans”; Fénelon’s Treatise on the Education of Daughters; “The History of Bianca Capello”; “An Ode By a Lady”; “The Morning”; “The History of Princess Padmani”; “On Reading Hutchinson on the Passions,” by Lennox; “Shallum to Hilpa”; “The Tale of Geneura,” Ariosto’s fifth chapter in Orlando Furioso; “The Judgement of Paris. A Poem,” written by a friend; “The Life of Sir Anthony Vandyck”; “To Ismene Playing on a Lute”; “A Poetical Epistle”; and “A Dialogue between Socrates and Aristarchus.” 26 Anthony Walker (1726–65), after having trained with the print-seller and engraver John Tinney, produced his first signed work in 1749. In the 1750s, his engravings appeared in Jonas Hanway’s An Historical Account of the British Trade and The Paths of Virtue Delineated (an abridgment of Richardson’s novels), Alexander Pope’s Works, and periodicals such as the London Magazine. Starting in 1760, Walker began exhibiting engravings in 1760 based on the painting of old masters at the Society of

398

Notes to pages 177−80

Artists. Also, he had probably engraved a frontispiece for Newbery’s Atlas Minimus in 1758, so it seems likely that Newbery rather than Lennox or Coote hired him for the Lady’s Museum. Thanks to Norbert Schürer for this information. 27 In the first issue Lennox seems to have written forty-five of the eighty pages (the Trifler essay, Harriot and Sophia, seven of the twenty-four pages in “The History of the Duchess of Beaufort” from her Sully translation, “On Reading a Poem,” “An Ode,” and “An Irregular Ode to Death”) and translated thirty “Of the Studies Proper for Women.” 28 Lennox, Sophia, 55. “Harriot and Sophia” was reissued as a stand-alone novel one year after the Lady’s Museum. 29 Thanks to Jennie Batchelor for alerting me to this fact. 30 Bataille addresses the question of Kelly’s involvement in the Lady’s Museum, claiming that “it is doubtful that Kelly did more than follow Lennox’s directions” (The Writing Life of Hugh Kelly, 5). Bataille explains that the original culprit for spreading the rumour was Capt. Edward Thompson in his 1778 “The Life of the Author” (Kelly, Works of Hugh Kelly, iii–xi). Thompson says that “in 1762 [Kelly] became the Editor of the Lady’s Museum, the Court Magazine, and other periodical publications” (v). However, the Lady’s Museum ran from 1760 to 1761. It has been assumed that the “Trifler” essays in the Lady’s Museum were probably Kelly’s because there were “Trifler” essays two years later in the Court Magazine (27). However, these essays share only a title. Also, Kelly had no experience in periodical writing. Bataille does not believe that Kelly did much, if any, of the writing of the actual material in the Lady’s Museum. 31 The first advertisement to name Lennox as author appears in the London Chronicle, 19–21 February 1760, 178. At least twenty-two advertisements for the Lady’s Museum appear in the Whitehall Evening Post, the Public Advertiser, the Public Ledger, the London Evening Post, and the General Evening Post until 24 March 1760. The title page also clearly states that “The Author of the Female Quixote” is responsible for the Lady’s Museum. Just after the magazine was completed, Lennox is also credited in a critical reference, “She likewise wrote the Ladies Museum.” William Rider seemed to indicate that Lennox should be given full credit, saying that she “wrote,” not simply compiled or edited, the magazine (An Historical and Critical Account of the Lives and Writings of Living Authors of Great-Britain, 21). While convention may not have made these distinctions, evidence above points to Lennox’s large role in the creation of the periodical. 32 London Evening Post, 23 December 1755. 33 The letter, which is in the October 1759 issue of the Lady’s Magazine, or Polite Companion for the Fair Sex, is signed with “Chelsea, September 22, 1759.” 34 It is unclear if Mrs Stanhope is a pseudonym. The Lady’s Magazine, or Polite Companion for the Fair Sex ran from 1759 to 1763. 35 London Chronicle, 27–9 September 1759, 306.



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3 6 Shevelow, “‘C – L – ’ to ‘Mrs. Stanhope,’” 83. 37 Ibid., 84. 38 Cohen, “Gender and ‘Method’ in Eighteenth-Century English Education.” 39 Ballard’s Memoirs were so popular that they were reprinted in 1775. 40 Qtd. from Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 189. 41 Shevelow, “‘C – L – ’ to ‘Mrs. Stanhope,’” 84. 42 See Rambler 4, 23, 60, 137, 145, 156; Adventurer 85; Idler 60, 61, 84. 43 Italia’s chapter “‘Buried among the Essays Upon Liberty, Eastern Tales, and Cures for the Bite of a Mad Dog’: Oliver Goldsmith and the Essayist in the Age of Magazines” effectively demonstrates this (The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 206–22). 44 Goldsmith, Bee, 6 October 1759; Friedman, ed., The Collected Works of Oliver Goldsmith, 1:356. 45 Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 129. 46 Court Magazine, November 1761. 47 Qtd. from Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 215. 48 Ibid., 192. 49 Mayo, The English Novel in the Magazines 1740–1815, 220–1. 50 Ballaster et al. discuss this phenomenon more fully in Women’s Worlds, 11. 51 Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 205. 52 Martin, preface to General Magazine (1755), vi. 53 Ibid. See also Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 183–4. 54 Hunter, Before Novels, 72–3. 55 Maurer, Proposing Men, 204–31. 56 Powell, Performing Authorship in Eighteenth-Century Periodicals, 134. 57 Royal Female Magazine, 1 March 1760 (qtd. from Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 190). 58 Although Delarivier Manley is still sometimes thought the editor of the Female Tatler, in fact Thomas Baker was its editor. Powell, Performing Authorship in Eighteenth-Century Periodicals, 80–2; Maurice Goldsmith, By a Society of Ladies; and White, “A Study of the Female Tatler 1709–10,” 98. 59 Haywood, The Female Spectator, ed. King and Pettit, vol. 3, book XX, 275. 60 Old Maid 2 (22 November 1755): 9. 61 Young Ladies Magazine (1760): xvi and 93. The Young Ladies Magazine is a sequel to the Young Misses Magazine, both of which were edited by Jeanne Marie LePrince de Beaumont (qtd. from Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 186–7). 62 Young Ladies Magazine (1760): x. 63 Thanks to Jennie Batchelor for alerting me to this fact. 64 Olsen, Daily Life in Eighteenth-Century England, 203.

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Notes to pages 188−94

65 When a child begins reading, Locke said, “some easy pleasant book, suited to his capacity, should be put into his hands, wherein the entertainment that he finds might draw him on and reward his pains in reading, and yet not such as should fill his head with perfectly useless trumpery, or lay the principles of vice and folly” (Some Thoughts Concerning Education, in The Works of John Locke, 3:68). 66 In fact, Haywood was not credited with her Female Spectator until 1756, when her authorship was revealed in her obituary notice. This was four years before the Lady’s Museum (King, A Political Biography of Eliza Haywood, 113). 67 Preface to 1746 edition of Mark Akenside’s magazine Museum. 68 Public Ledger, 4 March 1760. 69 Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 203; Lady’s Museum 2:129–30. 70 Ibid., 8:564. 71 Ibid., 3:163. 72 For further discussion of this, see Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 204. 73 “A course in female education” appears in many of the advertisements for the Lady’s Museum cited in note 31 above. 74 Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 49 75 Mrs Stanhope pompously writes to To Lady ***, in response to a prior letter relating to card playing, “Mrs. Stanhope is of opinion, that a hand never looks so white as when it is lifted up to heaven: and will venture to assure her lady ship, there is not half the grace in throwing down cards, that there is in bestowing charity.” Lady’s Magazine, or, Polite Companion for the Fair Sex 5 (February 1760): 248. 76 John Nichols indicates that Lennox wrote three of the Trifler essays, though he notes them as the first three (Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century and 8:435). In fact, essays written by the Trifler appear in issues 1, 2, and 5. 77 Lady’s Museum 4:242–3. 78 Ibid., 4:244. 79 Ibid., 5:323. 80 While only three of the Trifler essays, in issues 1, 2, and 5, are actually written by the Trifler, the rest of these entries are letters from readers. Whether they are real or fictitious is unclear. 81 A.B.’s letter is in Lady’s Museum 4:261–70; C.D.’s is in 6:409–13; E.F.’s is in 7:481–90; E.J.’s is in 8:592. 82 “Lord Dorset” may be the poet Charles Sackville, sixth Earl of Dorset. The Castracani story is thought to be taken from Machiavelli, who makes virtue a central term in The Prince and The Discourses. See Pocock’s The Machiavellian Moment. 83 Lady’s Museum 2:80–4. 84 Ibid., 3:182–9. 85 Ibid., 3:161–4.



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86 Ibid., 4:244–5. 87 Ibid., 4:289–293. 88 Ibid., 5:321–2. 89 Ibid., 5:344. 90 Ibid., 6:404. 91 Ibid., 8:592. 92 Ibid., 8:561–8. 93 Ibid., 8: 641–4. Parthenissa was the moniker that Mary Leapor used to describe her friend and fellow poet Susanna Jennens, who encouraged her writing and allowed her the use of her library. Jennens had connections to Mary Astell and Mary Wortley Montagu. 94 Lady’s Museum 11:793. 95 Schürer also deduces that Lennox was likely the author of at least the Introduction (129–33) to “Philosophy for the Ladies” in his appendix to Sophia, 237. 96 Lady’s Museum 3:233. 97 Lady’s Museum 1:145. 98 It is generally assumed that Villemert’s L’Ami des Femmes was first translated into English in 1766 as The Ladies Friend from the French of Monsieur de Gravines. L’Ami des Femmes was translated into German in 1759: Der Freund des Frauenzimmers. Aus dem Französischen übersetzt von Ludewig Jakob Heyden (Vienna, 1759) (Bibliothèque Nationale Z7896). Villemert himself also referred to a Spanish translation in his preface to the 1779 edition. 99 See David Williams, “The Fate of French Feminism.” 100 Jouslin, “Conservative or Reformer?” discusses this in greater detail. 101 McCarthy, Anna Letitia Barbauld, 163. 102 Lady’s Museum 2. 103 Lady’s Museum 5:371. 104 Barnard, Fénelon on Education, xxxii. 105 Ibid., xxxiv. 106 Ibid., 83–4. 107 Thomas Winstanley to Lennox, 30 August 1787 (Schürer, 208). 108 Lady’s Museum 1:136. 109 Ibid., 3:229. 110 Ibid., 8:631. 111 Ibid., 5:370. 112 The idea of an author publishing her own novel in her magazine may have been born out of the connection between Tobias Smollett, Charlotte Lennox, and John Newbery. Smollett and Lennox not only had the same publisher, Newbery, but they also had a professional association with Oliver Goldsmith. Newbery published the Lady’s Magazine; or, Polite Companion to the Fair Sex, in which “C – L – ” published

402

Notes to pages 199−202

her letter; and from 1760 onward most of Goldsmith’s writing was published in serial form in magazines in which Newbery had a financial stake (Richard Taylor, Goldsmith as Journalist, 93; Italia, The Rise of Literary Journalism in the Eighteenth Century, 210). 113 Keymer, Sterne, the Moderns, and the Novel, 132. 114 Lady’s Museum 11:857. 115 The Public Advertiser of August 1760 notes that a translation by Lennox of Voltaire’s Histoire de L’Empire de Russie sous Pierre le Grand is to be published “In a few Days.” However, it seems nearly impossible that Lennox could have managed any more writing at this time. This text does not seem to exist today. 116 Lennox to the Duchess of Newcastle, 6 October 1760 (Schürer, 106–7). 117 By 6 October 1760, Lennox is receiving her correspondence at the Mineral Water Ware-house in Bury Street, St James’s. 118 Smollett, Continuation of the Complete History of England, vol. 4. 119 Lennox to the Duchess of Newcastle, 6 October 1760 (Schürer, 106–7). 120 Since her first publication, Poems on Several Occasions in 1747, she had produced and published four novels – Harriot Stuart (1750), The Female Quixote (1752), Henrietta (1758), and “Harriot and Sophia” (for the Lady’s Museum 1760) – a large critical work on Shakespeare, two plays, three translations, and the massive Greek Theatre. 121 Lennox was receiving mail at the first house on the right hand on Camberwell Green. Welch to Lennox, 7 July 1761 (Schürer, 109–10). 122 A Proposal to Render Effectual a Plan to remove the Nuisance of Common Prostitutes from the Streets of this Metropolis; to prevent the Innocent from being seduced; to provide a decent and comfortable Maintenance for those whom Necessity or Vice hath already forced into that infamous Course of Life; and to maintain and educate those Children of the Poor, who are either Orphans, or are deserted by wicked Parents (London: C. Henderson, 1758), 50–4. 123 Welch to Lennox, 7 July 1761 (Schürer, 109–10). 124 Laetitia Matilda Hawkins, Memoirs, Anecdotes, Facts and Opinions, 1:53–4. 125 By 1759 Sarah Scott was estranged from her husband. Theirs was thought more a marriage of convenience. Gregory Sharpe’s letter (23 April 1758) alludes to the fact that he has a better chance of finding Mr Scott, i.e., George Lewis Scott (1708–80), at Lennox’s house than at his own. Sarah Scott is greeted in a letter from Walter Harte to Lennox (13 January [c. 1759]). George Lewis was a close friend of several of Lennox’s friends, including Andrew Millar, Samuel Johnson, and the politician George Rose. He was a brother-in-law to Elizabeth Montagu’s husband, Edward, and a commissioner of excise from November 1758 until his death. Scott introduced Thomas Paine to Benjamin Franklin (“Letter to the Honorable Henry Laurens, January 14, 1779,” in Foner, The Complete Writing of Thomas Paine, 2:1160–5).



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1 26 John Thomas Smith, Nollekens and His Times, 18 and 173. 127 A marble version of Joseph Nollekens’s (1737–1823) bust of Samuel Johnson, sculpted in 1776, is in Westminster Abbey. 128 Laetitia Matilda Hawkins, Memoirs, Anecdotes, Facts and Opinions, 1:70–1. 129 Ibid, 1:54. 130 James Hoey’s The Ladies Friend “by Euphrosine” was advertised to be published in two volumes in 1763 (Schürer, ed., Sophia, 217). 131 John Coote traded from 1756 until his death in 1808. 132 The frontispiece to the 1789 Lady’s Magazine, volume 20, like Lennox’s frontispiece, also features Cupid, Britannia, and a young woman sitting at a table with a book. Also see Batchelor, “‘Connections, Which Are of Service … in a More Advanced Age.’” 133 Churchill, The Ghost, 23. 8  Recasting a Career 1 Charles Robert Leslie, Life and Times of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1:200; Hudson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 70–2. 2 Ibid., 70–1. 3 The only remaining pieces of evidence of Reynolds’s portrait are these two engravings. The first was made by Henry R. Cook (published by G. Cowie & Co, 1 June 1813), probably sometime before 1793, and accompanied the memoir of Lennox in the Lady’s Monthly Museum (June 1813). It was also included in an extra-illustrated copy of Arthur Murphy’s Life of David Garrick … and Garrick’s Private Correspondence, edited by James Boaden. Illustrated by Portraits, Engravings, Autograph Letters, Playbills, Pamphlets, Etc. 1801–32: III:646 (Harvard, Pusey Theatre Collection TS 937.3). The second engraving was by Francesco Bartolozzi, engraver to the king, for Silvester and Edward Harding’s Shakespeare Illustrated, by an assemblage of Portraits & Views, appropriated to the Whole Suite of our Authors Historical Dramas, to which are added Portraits of Actors, Editors, & c, 1793). Bartolozzi’s engraving appears in “Editors and Annotators” (section 24) of the Hardings’ text with a footnote, “Our engraving was made from the picture in its present altered and finished state.” These engravings were made from a touched-up version of the Lennox portrait done by Reynolds himself fifteen years after the original in 1761 (Graves and Cronin, A History of the Works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 2:579). Kynaston notes that “Authorities at the National Portrait Gallery” say that the painting was altered as late as 1773, “bas[ing] their assumption principally on the style of the hairdressing” (“The Life and Writing of Charlotte Lennox,” 22–3). The Hardings’ Shakespeare Illustrated notes that the Cook was done “before it had received the last hand of the painter” and that Cook himself, although a celebrated engraver, was “an inferior artist” (Lennox appears in section 24). Another possibility is that Reynolds made those alterations

404

Notes to pages 206−10

in 1776, since he wrote to Lennox suggesting that he complete “the ornamental part” whenever she was “at leisure to sit” and then later wrote to arrange the specific time (18 January 1775/9 October 1776; Schürer, 150 and 181). 4 Hudson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 74. 5 Frith, My Autobiography and Reminiscence, 3:124 (qtd. from Hudson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, 75). 6 Rider, An Historical and Critical Account of the Living Writers of Great-Britain, 20–1. 7 Charlotte Forman (1715–87) (ODNB); Sophia is advertised by James Hoey in 1763 (Sophia, 219–20). 8 Mounsey, Christopher Smart, 149. 9 Kenrick, A Defence of Mr. Kenrick’s Review of Dr. Johnson’s Shakespeare, 13. 10 Lennox stopped publishing her works with Millar. In the following decade, he was one of the parties involved in the major copyright lawsuit, Donaldson v. Becket 1774, against his authors. 11 Welch to Lennox, 7 July 1761 (Schürer, 109–10). 12 Berg, The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance, 117. 13 Lennox to Lady Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 185). 14 Eger, Bluestockings, 68. 15 Pohl, “Cosmopolitan Bluestockings,” 71. 16 Eger, ed., Bluestocking Feminism, 1:xiii. 17 Eger, Bluestockings, 69. 18 See letter from Samuel Torriano to Elizabeth Montagu, 13 November 1756 (Huntington HEH MO 5153) in which the “Blew stockings” of the polymath Benjamin Stillingfleet, one of the attendees, were mentioned. The term became a metonym first for Elizabeth Vesey’s meetings and afterward for Montagu’s gatherings. This story, in an entry for the year 1781, was published in Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson, 4:480 and Madame D’Arblay (Frances Burney), Memoirs of Doctor Burney (London, 1832) 2:262–3. 19 Eger, Bluestockings, 68. 20 Ibid. 21 Edward Wilson, 1758 (qtd. in Eger, Bluestockings, 70). 22 Eger, Bluestockings, 130. Schellenberg details Montagu’s support of some women’s attempts at print. These include Hester Mulso Chapone and Elizabeth Carter, in the late 1750s and the 1760s (Literary Coteries, 60–90). 23 Schellenberg, The Professionalization of Women Writers in Eighteenth-Century Britain, 168–9. 24 Lennox’s first four dedicatees were all part of the Duke of Newcastle’s circle: Lady Isabella Finch (Poems), Earl of Middlesex (Female Quixote), Earl of Orrery (Shakespear Illustrated ), Newcastle (Sully). 25 Henretta, “Salutory Neglect,” 3. 26 See Carnell, “Jacobite Ideology and the Emergence of British Identity in Charlotte Lennox’s Novels.”



Notes to pages 210−14

405

27 O’Gorman, The Emergence of the British Two-Party System 1760–1782, iv; McCormack, “Metropolitan ‘Radicalism’ and Electoral Independence, 1760–1820,” 23. 28 As described by Eger, Bluestocking Feminism, 1:xiii. 29 Ibid., xv. 30 Nichol, ed., New Foundling Hospital for Wit, xxv. 31 The first mention of the pension was after the publication of Sully in 1756 (British Magazine, July 1783, 9). In an October 1760 letter to the Duchess of Newcastle, Lennox thanks the duchess for “Your favourable intentions with regard to Mr. Lennox.” The bid continues until 1761, when the duchess finally procured a place for him after the publication of the second edition of Henrietta on 20 March 1761. See British Magazine, July 1783, 9–10. Also see Thomas Gray, The Letters, 2:238. 32 Anonymous letter of recommendation upon the request for Royal Literary Fund assistance, May 1792 (Schürer, 253; British Magazine, July 1783). 33 See Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 19:1, 59 for further deliberation on the dates of his employment. 34 Librarian HM Custom House. See Kynaston, “The Life and Writing of Charlotte Lennox,” 22. Catherine Ingrassia says, “The Custom-house, the site of the customs office, offered many opportunities for bribery and other profitable, albeit illegal, activity” (introduction to her edition of Eliza Haywood’s Anti-Pamela, or, Feign’d Innocence Detected, 241). 35 The average excise officer would have made fifty pounds a year. “The officers of excise were particularly resented because of their remarkable powers of search and surveillance and their direct dependence on the central government, administrative characteristics which offended against cherished traditions of personal freedom and local self-policing. Indeed because they combined a ubiquitous national presence with unique statutory powers, and were answerable only to a central board of commissioners, for contemporaries the excisemen symbolized a radical and threatening departure in executive government under administrative law” (Lemmings, Law and Government in England during the Long Eighteenth Century, 8). 36 Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 19.1, 59; Plumb, England in the Eighteenth Century, 39–40. 37 In October of 1761, Gray calls Alexander “a broken tradesman” and reports that Lennox wrote asking for a position for her husband. Gray wrote to Mason, “Last week I had an application from a broken tradesman (whose wife I knew) to desire my interest with the Duke of Newcastle for a tide-waiter’s place” (Thomas Gray, The Letters, 2:238; see also Hazen, Samuel Johnson’s Prefaces and Dedications, 99.) 38 Eronia, 21 (qtd. from McLaren, Reproductive Rituals, 65–87). 39 Nobbe, The North Briton, 33. 40 The British Magazine, July 1783, notes that after Lennox’s dedication of her second edition of Henrietta to the duchess, “Her Grace procured the long promised place for Mr. Lenox” (10).

406

Notes to pages 214−17

4 1 Havens, “Patronage in the Novels and Letters of Charlotte Lennox.” 42 Monthly Review 27 (July 1762): 73–4. 43 Critical Review 13 (May 1762): 434–5. 44 Library (May 1762): 262. 45 British Magazine, or Monthly Repository for Gentlemen & Ladies 3 (June 1762): 324. 46 Critical Review 13 (May 1762): 434–5; Gentleman’s Magazine 32 (June 1762): 295. 47 Gentleman’s Magazine 32 (June 1762): 295. 48 Ibid. 49 Sully, London, 1761 – “beautifully printed on fine paper”; London, 1763 – “elegant”; Edinburgh, 1770; Edinburgh, 1773. Sully was widely advertised in 1763 as an “elegant and cheap edition” (2s 6d), which would include “a greater quantity than usual in this size,” including “a correct map of France, high quality engravings of portraits of Henry IV and Sully himself – in response to a pirated edition printed in Scotland” (London Evening Post, 26 May, 23 July, 30 August 1763, Public Advertiser, 30 June, 2 July, 1, 2, 3 August, 3, 5 September 1763 … continues to 20–2 December 1763). Other reprints during this period include The Female Quixote (Netherlands, 1762; Dublin, 1763; Lyon, 1773). Lussan and Isabella (Dublin, 1764, 1769; London, 1775), Sophia (Dublin, 1762, 1769; Paris, 1770; Stockholm, 1785), Harriot Stuart (1771). 50 Dictionary of Literary Biography, Vol. 170: The British Literary Book Trade, 1475–1700, 187. 51 It was published from 1763 to 1783. For a detailed discussion, see Staves, A Literary History of Women’s Writing in Britain, 1660–1789, 321–30. 52 “The Tryal of the Maid of Orleans,” Lady’s Museum 3:212. 53 Lennox and Macaulay both attended these dinners. Rose, The Diaries and Correspondence of the Right Hon. George Rose, 22. Sir George Rose (1744–1818) was a Scot. 54 Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208. 55 Bridget Hill, The Republican Virago, 234. 56 This meeting is reported to have taken place in 1772. Dexter, The Literary Diary of Ezra Stiles, 1:320 (qtd. from Schürer, 168–9). 57 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 28 June 1764, 1. The Gazetteer was a leading newspaper in these years (Haig, The Gazetteer, 58). 58 Haig, The Gazetteer, 43. 59 Ibid., 70 and 74. 60 Ibid., 40. 61 Ibid., 50–2. Almon was a young journeyman printer when he was hired by Charles Say as editorial assistant. He resigned from the paper in the autumn of 1763. In 1764 he began to print the monthly St. James’s Magazine: Or Literary Chronicle (ibid., 56). 62 Ibid., 54–5.



Notes to pages 217−22

407

6 3 Ibid., 75. 64 Ibid., 46. 65 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 4 June 1764. 66 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 7 December 1764. 67 Wilkes, “A Dialogue Concerning the Subjugation of Women to their Husbands.” 68 Greene, ed., Samuel Johnson, 564. 69 Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 160). 70 Ibid. 71 Paterson, Joineriana, 1:53–4. 72 Smollett, Continuation of the Complete History of England, 4:127; Public Advertiser, 8 October 1761. 73 This moniker appears on Grainger’s title page to Dissertatio Medica Inauguralis (1753) (qtd. from Gilmore, The Poetics of Empire, 4). He sent this poem by post, as he wrote it in the Caribbean. 74 “Memoirs of Dr. Granger [sic],” Monthly Miscellany (January 1774), 10. 75 James Grainger, The Sugar-cane (R. and J. Dodsley, 1764), 114. 76 Carter published two translations: Sir Isaac Newton’s Philosophy Explained for the Use of the Ladies. In Six Dialogues on Light and Colors, from the Italian of Sig. Algorroti (1739), and All the Works of Epictetus (1758), translated from Greek, and a book of poems: Poems on Several Occasions (based on her 1738 Poems on Particular Occasions) (1762). She is also known for her correspondence: Pennington, ed., A Series of Letters Between Mrs Elizabeth Carter and Miss Catherine Talbot, from the Year 1741–1770. 77 Mortimer, A New History of England, 3:794. 78 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 12 June 1766. 79 In 1764, Elizabeth Carter shared a common view about Macaulay. She was “vexed” by her History, calling it “too violent and party spirited.” See Bridget Hill, The Republican Virago, 41. 80 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 26 March 1765. 81 The baptism was on 28 April 1765 (Boswell, Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208n2). 82 In July 1766, by his former colleague William Pitt (now the Earl of Chatham). 83 William Musgrave to Lennox, 5 June 1765 (Schürer, 111). 84 Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 16 August 1765. Nearly the same text appears on 15–17 August 1765 in the London Chronicle and 14–16 August in Lloyd’s Evening Post. Also see Chalmers, The General Biographical Dictionary, 20:170–2. 85 Lennox had known the Dodsleys since 1752, when James’s older brother Robert was recommended to her by Samuel Richardson. “I know not a better Writer, nor a worthier Bookseller to recommend to each other than Mrs. Lennox and Mr. Dodsley.” Richardson to Lennox, 6 April 1752 (Schürer, 34). Robert and James published Lennox’s extremely successful Sully in 1755, and the Dodsleys were also part of the publishing group for Maintenon. J. Dodsley would continue as Lennox’s publisher until 1774.

408

Notes to pages 222−9

86 The History of Eliza was published in 1767. 87 Lennox, The History of Eliza, 1:7–8. 88 Ibid., 2:141. 89 The History of Pamela Howard was published in 1773. 90 For an extended discussion of The History of Pamela Howard, see Perry, “Clarissa’s Daughters,” 11. 91 Eliza; Or the History of Miss Granville, 1:118. 92 Ibid., 1:120. 93 Ibid., 1:31. 94 Ibid., 1:6. 95 Lennox, The History of Eliza 1:4–5. 96 Lennox to Lady Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 185). 97 Memorandum between James Dodsley and Alexander Lennox (25 October 1766) explaining that on this day they agreed to share the copyright, as well as the “Expenses & Profits of publishing & selling the first Edition, and all future editions.” It also stated that one thousand copies would be printed, and that if a second edition was printed Dodsley would pay Alexander Lennox 20 guineas for his half-share of the copyright (Schürer, 113). 98 Lennox, Preface to The History of Eliza (“To the Reader”). 99 Lennox writes to Samuel Johnson about Alexander’s “birth misfortunes,” 3 February 1752 (Schürer, 24). Alexander based his claim on the Lennox family tree in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. See Robertson, Proceedings Relating to the Peerage of Scotland, 335–6, 348–9, and 389–90, and Schürer, 230n3. For further discussion on Alexander Lennox’s involvement in an attempt to become recognized as Earl of Lennox in 1768, see Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, and Kynaston, “The Life and Writing of Charlotte Lennox,” 26–7. 100 This is an estimate based on the addresses on her extant letters. 9  “The Law of Custom” … or of “Fools”? 1 For a discussion of this adaptation of Henrietta to The Sister, see Carlile, “Henrietta on Page and Stage.” 2 These earnings were equal to those of The Roman Father (3 February; £231 19s), The Provoked Husband (13 February; £234 15s), Love in a Village (20 February; £224 11s), and Cyrus and … (23 February, £245 8s). Three others earned only slightly less: Tom Jones (1 February) had £20 18s in receipts; Every Man in His Humour (25 February) £207 6s; and Hamlet (27 February) £221. The average earnings were £64, while the play most often run, The Royal Chance, which was performed 11 nights in February and reached its 132nd night at the end of the month, earned only an average of £27 per night (Covent Garden Theatre Ledger, British Library Eggerton MS 2274).



Notes to pages 229−35

409

3 This happened in 1765 (Rizzo, Eighteenth-Century Women Playwrights, 4:4). 4 Walpole wrote in his copy of the play that it was “performed with great difficulty the sense of the house being against it.” His copy of the play was, in 1935, in the possession of Dr F.W. Atkinson, president of Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute (Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 7). The British Chronicle, 17–20 February 1769, 179, offered the most detailed explanation of the night of the performance. Thanks to Norbert Schürer for showing me this review. 5 Colman, Prologue to Lennox, The Sister (1769). 6 O’Gorman, The Emergence of the British Two-Party System 1760–1782, 6. 7 Perry, “Women in Families,” 111. 8 Lennox, The Sister, 25. 9 Gentleman’s Magazine 39 (April 1769): 199–200. 10 Bridget Hill, The Republican Virago, 21–3. 11 Monthly Review 40 (March 1769): 249. 12 Ibid., 249, 245. 13 More and Griffith gave up being dramatists, but Brooke, Cowley, and Inchbald were the best-known women playwrights in the 1770s. 14 The Wilkes affair occurred in 1769. 15 The Duke of Newcastle died in 1768. 16 Lennox has been described as “a member of the Newcastle/Rockingham faction” (Schürer, 120n11). 17 October 1768 through 1773. 18 Susanna Leveson-Gower, née Lady Susan Steward (1742/3–1805). 19 Lennox’s letter was written sometime at the end of 1768 or in January of 1769. See Murray’s response on 8 February 1769 (Schürer, 118). 20 Lady Leveson-Gower became woman of the bedchamber in 1761. 21 Lennox “may not have been aware of the political conflict” (Schürer, 120n8). 22 Murray to Lennox, 8 February 1769 (Schürer, 118). 23 In 1759, Garrick said that “Henrietta [by which Garrick meant the adaptation of that novel that Lennox later titled The Sister] pleased me much, and wants some little alterations to complete it.” Garrick to Lennox, 29 May 1759 (Schürer, 104). 24 Lennox to Garrick, 25 October 1768 (Schürer, 115–16). 25 Ibid. 26 “Mrs. Thrale and others said that Lennox accused the dramatist Richard Cumberland of organizing this damning” (Boswell, Life of Samuel Johnson, 4:10. See also Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 19:2, 167n129). 27 Donkin, Getting into the Act, 106. 28 Balderston, ed., Thraliana: The Diary of Mrs. Hester Lynch Thrale (Later Piozzi) 1779–1809, 1:135; Letters of Samuel Johnson LL.D., ed. G.B. Hill (1892), numbers 636, 640.

410

Notes to pages 236−8

2 9 St. James’s Chronicle, 18–21 February 1769. 30 George Colman to Charlotte Lennox, 20 February 1969 (Schürer, 125–30). 31 Isles, 19:2, 165n124. 32 Critical Memoirs 1 (1769): 327. 33 Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 19:2, 167n129. This idea originates from the anecdote in Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson, 4:10. “Dr. Goldsmith, upon occasion of Mrs. Lennox’s bringing out a play, said to Dr. Johnson at the Club, that a person had advised him to go and hiss it, because she had attacked Shakespeare in her book called Shakespeare Illustrated. Johnson: ‘And did you not tell him he was a rascal?’ Goldsmith: ‘No, sir, I did not. Perhaps he might not mean what he said.’ Johnson: ‘Nay, sir, if he lied, it is a different thing.’ Colman, who was present, slily said (but it is believed Dr. Johnson did not hear him,): ‘Then the proper expression should have been, – Sir, if you don’t lie, you’re a rascal” (qtd. from Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 37). 34 Isles, “The Lennox Collection,” 19.1, 40n61. 35 Monthly Review (March 1769): 245. 36 Critical Memoirs 1 (10 March 1769): 326–8. 37 Gazetteer, 22 February 1769. 38 Gentleman’s Magazine 39 (April 1769): 199–200. 39 This first edition was announced in the London Chronicle for 4 March 1769 and the St. James Chronicle for 4–7 March 1769, and the second was announced for 19 March 1769. 40 The records of printers William Bowyer and John Nichols show one thousand copies printed for the first edition and five hundred for the second (Maslen and Lancaster, The Bowyer Ledgers, 475). 41 13 June 1769 and 20 September 1769 (Schürer, 131). 42 General Evening Post, 21–3 January 1772; London Evening Post, 23–5 January 1772. 43 The inference of a Hamburg performance around 1776, based on a cast list, is published in a German translation of the play, Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl (Frankfurt and Leipzig: J.G. Fleischer, 1777), and evidence of the cast’s base in Hamburg is described in the biography Friedrich Ludwig Schröder: Beitrag zur Kunde des Menschen und des Künstlers by F.L.W. Meyer (Hamburg: Hoffmann and Campe, 1819), 1:228. There were performances in Gotha, Germany, on 2 and 21 October and 25 November 1776, and on 17 February and 27 December 1777. Richard Hodermann, Geschichte des Gothaischen Hoftheaters 1775–79 (Hamburg and Leipzig: Leopold Voß, 1894), 156, 158, 164. Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl (Munich: n.p.), 1776 [Münchener DigitalisierungsZentrum]. 44 Performances were on 15 and 17 October and 7 November 1776 (Taschenbuch des Wiener Theaters (Vienna: J.T. Trattner, 1777), 1:1777). 45 See The London Stage 1660–1800, part 4, 1386.



Notes to pages 238−9

411

46 The Heiress was composed chiefly of Lennox’s plot, but also partly of Diderot’s Le Père de Famille. Reprints of The Heiress include London, J. Debrett, 1786; Dublin, Exshaw, 1786; Dublin, Chamberlain, Watson, Willams Coles, 1786; London, J. Debrett 1787; Berlin: J. Debrett, 1790; London: J. Sharpe, 1804; London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown 1808; London: John Sharpe, 1810; London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown, 1820; 1825–7; London: J. Dicks, 1871. 47 Miss Warburton to Caroline Burgoyne, in E.B. De Fonblanqué, Political and Military Episodes from the Life and Correspondence of Rt. Hon. John Burgoyne (London, 1876); qtd. from Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 175. 48 Morgan, The Birth of the Republic, 82–3. 49 Morning Herald, 25 September 1823, qtd. from Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 174. 50 Inchbald, The British Theatre, 22:4. 51 Shakespeare Illustrated by an Assemblage of Portraits and View; with Biographical Anecdotes, 1793 (Huntington HEH 147727). 52 John Genest, Some Account of the English Stage, 5:241–2. 53 British Chronicle, 17–20 February 1769, 178. 54 For example: St. James Chronicle, 18–21 February 1769, 4; Gazetteer, 22 February 1769, 4; Lloyd’s Evening Post, 20–2 February 1769, 186; London Chronicle, 21–3 February 1769, 180; Whitehall Evening Post, 21–3 February 1769, 2; Critical Memoirs, 10 March 1769, 219–21; Court Miscellany 101–2 (1769), 104. 55 Victoria and Albert Museum, Forster Collection, Garrick Letters, vol. 28, folio 28. 56 “Poets Corner” of the St. James Chronicle, 18–21 February 1769, and Lloyd’s Evening Post, 20–2 February 1769. In fact, even fourteen years later it was still regarded as the best epilogue (Baker and Reed, Biographia Dramatica, 2:346). And it appears in Oliver Goldsmith (Collected Works, 4:382–3, qtd. from Isles 19:2, 166n128). 57 According to James Raven’s study of editions, Lennox is third in number of editions published by a woman between 1750 and 1770 (Haywood is first with thirty-one, Fielding is second with sixteen and Lennox had fourteen (this includes the two editions of Eliza). Lennox is fourteenth when men are added (Sterne 35, Henry Fielding 33, Smollett 28, Defoe 28, Richardson 23, Riccoboni 17, Kimber 17, Johnston 16, Voltaire 16, Langhorne 15, Marmontel 15. Cleland and Goldsmith tied with Lennox with 14) (Raven, British Fiction 1750–1770). 58 Lloyd’s Evening Post, 15–17 and 22–4 March 1769; Whitehall Evening Post, 16 March 1769; and the Public Advertiser, 26, 27, 29 March 1762. Some of these advertised vol. 5 by also mentioning Lennox’s writing in the previous volume. 59 See the title page of part 3, July 1769. 60 Nichol, ed., New Foundling Hospital for Wit, 1:xx. 61 Benedict, Making the Modern Reader, 196. 62 Nichol, ed., New Foundling Hospital of Wit, 1:xx.

412

Notes to pages 240−3

63 Ibid., xv. A typical reader likely believed “that no monarch should ever forget Magna Carta; that George III should quit jockeying prime ministers; that Bute was appointed Prime Minister because he was having an affair with the king’s mother; that Scotland was insidiously taking over England; that Fox and Bedford sold the country short in the Treaty of Paris; that the Byng execution was a cover-up; that Benjamin Franklin has a point about the American colonists’ anger over the Stamp Act; that Pitt the Elder let the country down accepting a peerage; that general warrants were iniquitous; that voters in Middlesex should get the member they elected; and that ‘Wilkes and liberty’ was the roast beef of England” (ibid., xxxi). 64 New Foundling Hospital for Wit (1769), part 3, 136–40. 65 Nichol, ed., New Foundling Hospital for Wit, 1:xvi. 66 Ibid., 1: lx. This is an excellent resource for the details of New Foundling Hospital for Wit. 67 Ibid., xxxiv. 68 Qtd. from ibid., xvi. 69 Ibid., xi. 70 Bertelsen, The Nonsense Club, 1. 71 Nichol, ed., New Foundling Hospital for Wit, 1:xxvi. However, it is also possible that Lennox did not condone the use of her poem here. If “Art of Coquetry” was published in Robert Dodsley’s Collection of Poems, By Several Hands, first published in 1748 in three volumes, and in 1758 in six volumes, Almon may have simply lifted her poem from this collection. Also, Nichol notes that Samuel Johnson had a vexed relationship with Wilkes, and thus his appearance in New Foundling Hospital for Wit (parts 5 and 6) could suggest that the author’s approval was never sought (Nichol, xxvii–xxviii). 72 New Foundling Hospital for Wit (1769), part 3, 140. 73 Ibid. (1773), part 6, 40; Anne Ingram, “On Mr. Pope’s Characters of Women,” ibid. (1773), part 6, 42–6. 74 A year before Lennox’s poem, in the second volume of New Foundling Hospital for Wit, the anonymous author of “The Female Complaint” advocated for gender equality: “Then equal laws let custom find, / Nor thus the sex oppress; / More freedom grant to woman-kind, / Or give to mankind less.” New Foundling Hospital for Wit (1768), part 2, 52; see also Nichol, ed., New Foundling Hospital for Wit, 1:xxx. 75 Ibid., 1:xxxi. 76 New Foundling Hospital for Wit (1769), part 3, 143. 77 Lady Bute, whose husband was ferociously satirized in the New Foundling Hospital for Wit, would never have granted permission for the poems of her late mother (Lady Mary Wortley Montagu) to be included. Also, the publication would have appeared just months after Lennox’s attempt to gain Bute’s support for a subscription edition of The Sister.



Notes to pages 243−6

413

7 8 New Foundling Hospital for Wit (1771), part 4, 77. 79 Almon could not stay away from publishing for long. His next venture trying to revitalize the General Advertiser resulted in a trumped-up charge of libel, and he fled to France to escape incarceration. The Revolution forced him back to England to face a year in King’s Bench Prison, but he kept publishing his own works. However, this early crusader for freedom of the press ultimately went bankrupt and died impoverished in 1805. 80 Nichol’s chronology shows that Almon, who edited the New Foundling Hospital for Wit until 1773, turned his business over to John Debrett in 1781. In 1784, Almon returned to publishing as the proprietor and editor of the General Advertiser. From 1786 to 1795, “Mrs. Lenox” promoted the New Foundling Hospital for Wit, which was now edited by John Debrett. 81 Independent Chronicle, 27–30 October 1769. 82 I would like to thank an anonymous reader at University of Toronto Press for suggesting this conclusion. 83 For example: The Female Parliament, 1754; the Annual Register’s “Humorous Proposal for a Female Administration” by “Jacobina Henriques,” 1766; and the epilogue to Elizabeth (Berkeley), Lady Craven’s comedy, The Miniature Picture, 1780 (Orlando). 84 Schürer, 117. 85 It was being pulled down to be rebuilt by Sir William Chambers. In Reynolds’s ledgers: “A literary lady, who had apartments in Somerset House, which she had to vacate, in 1773, to make room for Sir W. Chambers’s new building” (Graves and Cronin, A History of the Works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 2:579). 86 Charles Robert Leslie, Life and Times of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 2:10. 87 It had been five years since the media attention generated by The Sister. 88 In a review of Hannah More’s play in the Monthly Review 50 (April 1774): 243. 89 The title continues and is worth noting: “faithfully abridged so as to contain all the spirit of the original, with every striking occurrence in the writings of the above recited celebrated authors, and omitting such parts as have been deemed dry, tedious, or uninteresting.” Morning Chronicle, 12, 14, 19, 21 and 23 April; General Evening Post, 21–3 April; Public Ledger, 23 April; London Chronicle, 26–9 April and 27–9 October; and St. James’s Chronicle, 29 October and 1 November. London: J. French, 1774. 90 Gil Blas was published between 1715 and 1735. 91 Snagg’s first edition of the abridged Female Quixote was published in 1774. Information about his business can be found in Maxted, The London Book Trades 1775–1800. 92 If Lennox had written it, it would seem natural for her to use some of her own words. However, with the exception of two sentences, none of the writing has simply been lifted from the original text. Most often, synonyms were chosen over Lennox’s original language, even when these choices required slightly longer sentences. Thus brevity was not the reason for such a divergence from the original.

414

Notes to pages 246−53

93 Advertisement from the bookseller J. Bew, General Evening Post, 26–8 December 1780, 4. 94 The diary of Henry Marchant, an American visitor, observed that “CL’s face was much pitted with the small-pox” (Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 28). 95 January 1774. 96 October 1766. 97 Lennox’s 1774 translation of Louise de La Vallière, Meditations and Penitential Prayers. 98 See Fraser, Love and Louis XIV, especially 176–7. 99 Huntington Library A 1807 189526. 100 According to the advertisements, Lennox combined extracts from “Voltaire, Sevigne, and other writers” to write about the duchess’s “life and character.” See London Evening Post, no. 8133, 12 May 1774; London Evening Post, no. 2834, 14 May 1774; London Chronicle or Universal Evening Post, no. 2724, 24 May 1774; St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post, no. 2076, 2 June 1774. 101 Fraser, Love and Louis XIV, 111–12. 102 Lennox, Meditations, 8, 31. 103 Ibid., 12. 104 Ibid., 21. 105 Ibid., 22. 106 Ibid., 23. 10  “Work upon That Now!” 1 Events in America that led up to the beginning of the American Revolution in 1775 included the Intolerable Acts, resulting from the Boston Tea Party, and the First Continental Congress. John Wesley’s pamphlet was titled “Thoughts Upon Slavery.” The prime minister, Lord North, was robbed by highwaymen on 4 October 1774. 2 Poems on Several Occasions, Harriot Stuart, The Female Quixote, Shakespear Illustrated, Sully, Berci, Henrietta, Maintenon, Philander, Greek Theatre, Lady’s Museum, and Eliza. 3 Lennox to Garrick, 20 August 1775 (Schürer, 163). 4 British Library Add. MSS 38730 f. 148. 5 Attorney General Thurlow in opening arguments to the Lords on 4 February 1774. 6 Written statement on 22 February 1774 during the court proceedings. 7 Technically, her husband owned her works, but Charlotte appears to be more active in seeking rights to them. 8 Mark Rose, Authors and Owners, 5. 9 This is based on those addresses that can be traced. Prior to this address, she had been at Somerset House for five years.



Notes to pages 253−8

415

10 Receipt, Lennox to James Dodsley, 10 January 1774 (Schürer, 141), for “copy money” to complete her next translation, Meditations and Penitential Prayers. 11 For example, see Lennox to Dr William Hunter, 18 February 1775 (Schürer, 157–8). 12 Noted in Johnson’s diary, 2 January 1775 (Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson, 3:165). 13 Charles Robert Leslie, in Life and Times of Sir Joshua Reynolds, reports that in 1773 Reynolds spent some evenings with “the blues Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Ord, and Mrs. Vesey (and once with Mrs. Lenox)” (52). 14 Joshua Reynolds to Lennox, 18 January 1775 (Schürer, 150–1). However, Reynolds would not have helped Charlotte with the subscription effort, as he had “made it a rule to act on these occasions only as a Gentleman.” Johnson breaks this news to Charlotte and explains that Reynolds would not use his studio to market anyone’s work, including Johnson’s. Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 159–60). 15 Reynolds to Lennox, 18 January 1775 (Schürer, 151n3) and Proposal for Subscription Edition of Original Works, 14 February 1775 (Schürer, 153). 16 Johnson, Proposal for Subscription Edition of Original Works (Schürer, 153). 17 Yet, these large volumes would not include all of Lennox’s writing. Her poetry, Harriot Stuart, the Lady’s Museum, and her translations were not to be included. 18 Charlotte Smith and Mary Robinson emphasized their need to earn an income with a canny marketing strategy that cultivated a sympathetic readership (Labbe, “Selling One’s Sorrows”). 19 Lennox to William Hunter, 18 February 1775 (Schürer, 157–8). 20 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 43. The advertisement appeared 2 March in London Chronicle and St. James’s Chronicle or British Evening-Post; 22 March in Morning Chronicle, London Advertiser, Morning Post, and Daily Advertiser; 25, 27 March in Public Advertiser. 21 Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 43. 22 Lennox to William Hunter, 18 February 1775 (Schürer, 157–8). 23 Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer 159–60). 24 Griffin, Literary Patronage, 210. 25 Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 159–62). 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid. 28 Lennox to Garrick, 4 August 1774 (Schürer, 143). 29 Said, Orientalism. 30 Lennox to Garrick, 4 August 1774 (Schürer, 143–6n1). 31 Bajazet was first published in 1672. 32 Hollinghurst, “Translator’s Note,” in Racine, Bajazet, ix. 33 On Lennox’s benefit night for Old City Manners, Garrick wrote to Mrs Abington: “That I may hear no more of this or that part in Mr. Murphy’s play, I now again tell you that every author since my management distributed his parts as he thinks will

416

Notes to pages 258−9

be of most service to his interest, nor have I ever interfered, or will interfere, unless I perceive that they would propose something contrary to common sense” (Hogan, ed., The London Stage 1660–1800, part 4, 1933). 34 The Reverend William Beloe met Lennox at the home of Mary Ann Yates (1728–87) when he first came to London. “[F]or at her house he immediately became acquainted with some of the most distinguished literary characters of the time. There he met Murphy, Home, the author of Douglas, Richard Cumberland, Hoole, [the Translator of Ariosto, the Adelphi Adams], old Macklin, Mrs. Lennox, Mrs. Brooke, and various other eminent individuals, all of whom alas! have now paid the last awful debt of nature!” Beloe, The Sexagenarian, 1:400–1). “Elegy, in Imitation of Shenstone, on Mrs. Yates” by George Lennox appeared in several magazines in 1783. Rivers, Literary Memoirs of Living Authors of Great Britain, published while Lennox was still alive, said that she could “boast the honour of having been … the friend of Mrs. Yates” (217–18). 35 Lennox to Garrick, 4 August 1774, second of two letters (Schürer, 147–8). Yates did in fact act at Drury Lane for the next two winters; thus Lennox’s letter succeeded in its purpose (MS in Forster Collection, Victoria and Albert Museum, London; text Boaden, I, 647 and Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 38–9). Also, see Small, Charlotte Ramsay Lennox, 41. 36 Lennox to Garrick, 4 August 1774, second of two letters (Schürer, 147–8). 37 Lennox to Garrick, 4 August 1774, first of two letters (Schürer, 143–6). 38 Lennox to Garrick, 20 August 1775 (Schürer, 163–4). 39 Note the similarity of Lennox’s tone to that of Garrick in his 25 October 1768 letter. 40 Stone and Kahrl, David Garrick, 210. 41 Lennox to Garrick, 20 August 1775 (Schürer, 163–4). 42 Adams, “Eastward Hoe and Its Satire against the Scots.” 43 “Eastward Ho! reveals the shallowness of its predecessor [John Webster and Thomas Dekker’s Westward Ho!] by exploiting the abandoned satiric themes and by parodying its form … The mood is also consciously critical of the posturing antics of such typical city comedy types as Patronal and Gertrude. Attitudes and language of typical city comedy are criticized in the debate between prodigals and the prudent, in which both are satirized so that we see beneath the surface to the causes of social and artistic disorder. Jacobean vices have deep roots in the contemporary political and economic abuses; vice and virtue alike are deflated by burlesquing the way in which the characters adopt popular stage roles” (Petter, ed., Eastward Ho!, xxviii). 44 Van Fossen, ed., Eastward Ho, 38. 45 Adams, “Eastward Hoe and Its Satire against the Scots.” 46 Sigalas, “Sailing against the Tide,” 94. 47 Lennox to Garrick, 4 August 1775 (Schürer, 143–6). 48 29 October 1751. 49 Van Fossen, ed., Eastward Ho, 21.



Notes to pages 259−66

417

50 Eastward Hoe: or, the Apprentices, by Ben Jonson, Chapman, and Marston (London: R. Dodsley, 1751). 51 It’s unclear from which text Lennox was adapting; however, it is most likely that she used Robert Dodsley’s version. 52 Genest, Some Account of the English Stage, 4:341. Thanks to Kevin Berland for indentifying Wilkinson. 53 For a discussion of how copyright was applied to translators see Mark Rose, Authors and Owners, 51. 54 Thanks to one of the anonymous University of Toronto Press readers for noting this. 55 Adaptation has recently been identified as an under-theorized activity. For example, see Frus and Williams, Beyond Adaptation. 56 “[N]ot westward to the fall of Phoebus,” which was a reference to the fall of Apollo, the god of colonization (Eastward Ho, 4). 57 “Advertisement” on first unnumbered page of Lennox, Old City Manners. 58 Petter, ed., Eastward Ho!, xxiii. 59 Ibid., xxiii. 60 “During [the early seventeenth century], the name ‘Virginia’ might mean a place anywhere between Florida and Newfoundland” (Van Fossen, ed., Eastward Ho, 18). 61 See Hostettler, The Isle of Dogs, volume 1. 62 Petter, ed., Eastward Ho!, xxix. 63 Van Fossen, ed., Eastward Ho, 95. 64 Lennox, Old City Manners, v. 65 John Brewer, Party Ideology and Popular Politics at the Accession of George III, 197. 66 Lennox, Old City Manners, v. 67 London Chronicle, 9–11 November 1775. 68 Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser, 10 November 1775. 69 Lennox, Old City Manners, 13. 70 Ibid., 14–17. 71 Ibid., 18. 72 Ibid., 9. 73 Ibid., 16. 74 Ibid., 49. 75 Ibid., 5. 76 Ibid., 16. 77 This reference was even kept in the 1751 Dodsley “decen[t]” and “moral” version (Dodsley, Eastward Ho, 7). 78 Ibid., 10. 79 Burbank and Cooper, Empires in World History, 210. 80 Bradley, Religion, Revolution and English Radicalism, xii. 81 Langford, Englishness Identified, 273.

418

Notes to pages 267−70

82 Kazin, Edwards, and Rothman, The Princeton Encyclopedia of American Political History, 2:142. 83 Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man was published in 1791. 84 Spence’s plan was first given as a lecture and then published in 1775 as the pamphlet Property in Land Every One’s Right. It was reissued as The Real Rights of Man in later editions (Bonnett, “The Other Rights of Man”). 85 Lennox, Old City Manners, 7. 86 Ibid., 8. 87 She taunts Fig later in the play, as well (47). Lennox’s use of the name Fig harks back to Eastward Ho. In the original play, Flash, upon refusing to enter into trade to actually earn an income, scorns the fig as a “frail commodity.” In Lennox’s version, this scene is omitted and she instead personifies this vulnerability in the merchant, Fig, who is also perishable and easily discarded. 88 Lennox, Old City Manners, 63. 89 Ibid., 63. 90 Ibid., 63. 91 Ibid., 49. 92 Ibid., 46. 93 Ibid., 15. 94 Ibid., 4. 95 Ibid., 22. For example, she omits Quicksilver’s solution to Flash’s worry that Gertrude will be furious when she learns that she’s been deceived. Quicksilver tells Flash, “cloath but her crouper in a new gown, and you may drive her any way you list. For these women, sir, are like Essex calves: you must wriggle ’em on by the tail still, or they will never drive orderly” (Eastward Ho 1605, near end of act 2, after “Enter Flashin boots” and Dodsley alteration of 1751, 19). 96 Lennox, Old City Manners, 15. 97 Ibid., 17. 98 Ibid., 15. 99 “Nay then, Mother, you should ha’ look’d to it. A body would think you were the older! I did but my kind, I. He was a knight, and I was fit to be a lady. ’Tis not lack of liking, but lack of living, that severs us. And you talk like yourself and a citiner in this, i’ faith. You show what husband you come on, I wis. You smell the Touchstone – he that will do more for his daughter that he has married to a scurvy gold-end man and his prentice, than he will for his tother daughter, that has wedded a knight and his customer. By this light, I think he is not my legitimate father.” Act 5 scene 1, after “Enter Mistress Touchstone.” Eastward Ho (1605). 100 Lennox, Old City Manners, 60. 101 Ibid., 53–4. 102 Ibid.



Notes to pages 270−8

419

1 03 Ibid., 54. 104 1) Gertrude sings to Fig about his unrequited love for her (8); 2) Quicksilver sings to self/audience and points out his laziness and passivity (18); 3) Gertrude sings to self/audience 35–6; 4) Seagull sings a drinking song in praise of hedonism to Flash, Scapethrift, and Spendall just before they sail down the Thames. 105 Lennox, Old City Manners, 36. 106 Ibid., 64–5. 107 The Public Advertiser letter appeared on 21 November 1775. This letter also appeared in the Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 29 January 1776. 108 Burney Newspaper Collection database (March 2011 searches). 109 Petter, ed., Eastward Ho!, xxxiv. 110 Public Advertiser, 10 November 1775; London Chronicle, 9 November 1775, 461. 111 The nine performances were on 9, 11, 13, 15, 17, 27 November, 14 December 1775, and 8 January, 28 December 1776. George Winchester Stone, Jr, ed., The London Stage, 1660–1800; and Hogan, ed., The London Stage, 1660–1800. 112 London Chronicle, 9 November 1775, 461; Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser, 10 November 1775. 113 She earned eighty-four pounds on her first benefit night, 27 November 1775. The third, sixth, and ninth nights were usually the author’s benefits. 114 Bute also said that she was “averse to seeing her name in print” – another reminder that most women still felt that it would damage their reputation to be publicly associated with literature. Bute to Lennox, 14 November 1775 (Schürer, 165–6). 115 George III owned bound “Lennox’s Plays” with the GIII library seal (British Library 82.e.28). 116 Sarah Scott to Elizabeth Montagu, 4 October 1792 (Pohl, ed., The Letters of Sarah Scott, 232, 369–70). 117 Alexander was listed as a Deputy King’s Tidewaiter from 1773 to 1782 (Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, 20). 118 Lennox to Dr William Hunter, 18 February 1775 (Schürer, 157–8). 119 Lennox to Johnson, 17 June 1777 (Schürer, 189–91). 120 Lennox to Johnson 1776 (Schürer, 167). 121 Ibid. 122 Middlesex Journal and Evening Advertiser, 30 March 1776; Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser, 1 April 1776. 123 Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser, 5 March 1776. 124 This “literary duel” in the newspapers warrants further study. Also see Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser, 3 and 19 March 1776; 3, 10, 11, 19, 25, and 26 April 1776. 125 Lennox to Johnson, 29 May 1778 (Schürer, 193–4). 126 Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser, 8 August 1777.

420

Notes to pages 278−84

127 London Chronicle, 8–11 November 1777. See more on the dating of this painting in Myers, The Bluestocking Circle, 276–9. For this and issues of gender, see Bermingham, “Elegant Females and Gentleman Connoisseurs.” 128 Eger, “Representing Culture.” 129 In the 1778 print, Lennox appears to be holding a writing tablet. In the 1779 version, she holds a lute. 130 Eger, “Representing Culture,” 111–13. For a further discussion of Samuel’s understanding of the role of the visual image in society, see his lecture Remarks on the Utility of Drawing and Painting. To the Society Instituted at London for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce (London: Wilkins, 1786). 131 Kelly, “Bluestocking Work,” 186. 132 New and reprinted editions in London: Harriot Stuart (1771); The Female Quixote abridged (1774); her translation of Sully (two editions by Rivington et al., 1778); and Henrietta (1770), Meditations (1774), and Old City Manners (1775). Also, many of her titles were being published abroad: The Female Quixote in Lyon, France (1773); Sully by two different publishers in Edinburgh (1770 and 1773); Henrietta in Frankfurt (1771), Paris (1775), Amsterdam (1775), and Lausanne (1777); Sophia in Paris (1770), and The Sister in Hamburg, Munich, and Vienna (1776), Frankfurt and Leipzig (1777), and Frankfurt (1778). 133 Qtd. from Eger, “Representing Culture,” 122–3. Huntington MO 3435: Elizabeth (Robinson) Montagu to Elizabeth Carter, 24 November 1777. 11  Friendship, Marriage, and Motherhood 1 Lennox to Johnson, 17 June 1777 (Schürer, 189–91). 2 Laetitia Matilda Hawkins, Memoirs, Anecdotes, Facts and Opinions, 1:70–1. 3 Johnson to Lennox, 25 January 1782 (Schürer, 199). 4 Lennox to Walker King, 7 May 1782 (Schürer, 201). 5 15 May 1784 (Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 4:275). 6 Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 160). Either Lennox or Johnson crossed out the word “indecencies” in this letter and wrote “peculiarities” instead. The hand looks like Lennox’s to me. If it is Johnson’s, we see that his first thought was “indecencies,” but he either changed his mind or changed the word because he knew Lennox would prefer it. 7 Winstanley to Lennox, 30 August 1787 (Schürer, 208); Lennox probably lived near Winstanley’s church on Idol Lane, close to the Custom House, around 1773–5. 8 Walter Jackson Bate, Samuel Johnson, 450. 9 16 March 1782 (Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 5:20). 10 Lennox to Lydia Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 185).



Notes to pages 284−91

421

1 1 Ibid. 12 Lennox to Lydia Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 185). 13 Lennox to Alexander Lennox, c. 1776–8 (Schürer, 170–2). 14 Lennox to Alexander Lennox (draft of letter c. 1776–8) (Schürer, 170–2). 15 Lady Lydia Clerke’s mother was Lydia (Isgar) Hammond, born in 1700 and thus in her mid-seventies at the time of this letter. Berg describes her as a nonconformist (The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance, 252). No evidence of her address or other circumstances exist. Gosport is south of London. 16 I have not been able to locate this will. 17 Lennox to Alexander Lennox, c. 1776–8 (Schürer, 170–2). 18 Cohen, “Gender and ‘Method’ in Eighteenth-Century English Education,” 586–92. 19 Lennox to Alexander Lennox, draft of letter c. 1776–8 (Schürer, 170–1). 20 Sometime in 1792 or 1793. See Lennox to Boswell, 3 January 1792, and Lennox to Dodsley, 30 January 1793. Wendorf writes of Frances Reynolds that “[a]fter her brother’s death in 1792 [23 February], she received an inheritance of £2500 for life … and promptly purchased a large house on Queen Square” (Sir Joshua Reynolds, 74). 21 Beloe, The Sexagenarian, 1:401. 22 Rivers, Literary Memoirs of Living Authors of Great Britain, 365. 23 Beloe reported that “Murphy, Home, the Author of Douglas, Richard Cumberland, Hool, the Translator of Ariosto, the Adelphi Adams, old Macklin, Mrs. Lennox, Mrs. Brook” visited her house (The Sexagenarian, 1:401). 24 See Berg, The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance (127) for a full description of these relationships. Bonnell Thornton subscribed to George Ballard’s 1752 Memoirs of Several Ladies of Great Britain, which shows that he was an advocate of women’s participation in the world of ideas. Lennox’s poem “The Art of Coquetry” was included as the first poem in the second volume of the new edition of Thornton’s Poems by Eminent Ladies (1785). The first edition appeared in 1755. Perhaps his son Robert (1768–1837) was responsible for adding Lennox to the new edition. LaVoie dedicates a chapter to “Poems by Eminent Ladies in Collecting Women” in Poetry and Lives, 1700–1780. 25 Berg, The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance, 215. My calculation is based on Olsen’s documentation that the annual clothing budget for a spectacle frame maker who had a total income of almost fifty pounds was four pounds ten shillings (Daily Life in Eighteenth-Century England, 201). I am considering that at this point Lennox was living on forty pounds and that it is likely that she did not need to dress in public clothing every day. 26 Berg, The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance, 209. 27 Ibid., 250. 28 Ibid., 122–6. 29 Lennox to Clerke, 30 August 1776 (Schürer, 175).

422

Notes to pages 292−301

30 Berg, The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance, 33–41; Charles Clerke, ODNB. 31 William Henry Nassau van Zuylestein, fourth Earl of Rochford (1717–81). 32 Lennox to Clerke, 30 August 1776 (Schürer, 176). 33 He died on 11 October 1776. 34 Lennox to Clerke, 30 August 1776 (Schürer, 184). The quotation reads: “While we are in the Flesh, every Man has his chain and his Clog, and it is looser and lighter to one Man than another; only he is more at Ease that takes it up, and carries it, than he that drags it.” Roger L’Estrange, ed., Seneca’s Morals (London: Ballard et al., 1775), qtd. from Schürer, 187n11. 35 Lennox to Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 183). 36 Ibid. 37 Marmontel’s chapter on religious toleration appeared in Bélisaire (1767). 38 The Incas was translated into English in 1777, but not likely by Lennox. 39 Lennox to Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 184–5). 40 Ibid. 41 Lennox, Henrietta, book 2, chapter 10. 42 Veronica was nineteen, Euphemia eighteen, and Elizabeth twelve. Lennox to Boswell, 3 January 1792 (Schürer, 213). 43 “Proposals for Publishing a New and Improved Edition of Shakespeare Illustrated by Charlotte Lennox” (Schürer, 223). 44 See Schürer, 227n11. Schürer also translated Gottsched from German. 45 Proposal for Subscription Edition of Shakespeare Illustrated, March–April 1793 (Schürer, 223–4). 46 Lennox to Veronica Boswell, 26 April 1794 (Schürer, 239–40). 47 See Isles, ”The Lennox Collection,” 19:4, 420–1n197 and Schürer, 243–6, 267–8, 273–4, 392–3. 48 Langton to Lennox, c. 1795–7 (Schürer, 243). 49 Beloe to Nichols, 14 January 1802 (Schürer, 267). 50 Anon. to Lennox, c. 1795–1801 (Schürer, 245). 51 Lennox to Clerke, 30 August 1776 (Schürer, 175). 52 Lennox to Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 183). 53 Ibid. 54 10 July 1781 (Johnson, The Letters of Samuel Johnson, 353). 55 Lennox to Clerke, 30 August 1776 (Schürer, 175). 56 Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 159–60). 57 “Copied from a news paper upon reading / Mrs. Maccaulay’s writing, and seeing a / pair of Ruffles workd by Mrs. L for her husband / How each in her mistaken task delights! / L**x works Muslin and Macaulay writes” (anonymous, Six Poems on Mrs. Lennox 1782–1804; Schürer, 312).



Notes to pages 301−5

423

58 Johnson to Alexander Lennox, c. 1753–6 (Schürer, 50–1). Also, Lennox was a supporter of the author and fashionable preacher William Dodd, who responded to his own financial straits by forging a bond for the enormous sum of 4,200 pounds in the name of his former student Philip Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield, and was subsequently executed for his forgery. Since many of her novels tackle problems of wealth (or lack thereof), it is possible that Lennox’s empathy for Dodd came from a belief that a society in which everyone had enough and no one was grossly rich was best. 59 London Metropolitan Archives MJ/SR 3358. 60 An anonymous letter of recommendation in May 1792 suggests that Alexander died in 1788 or 1789 (Schürer, 254). 61 Schürer, 253–4. 62 For information about Alexander Lennox’s involvement in an attempt to become recognized as Earl of Lennox in 1768, see Séjourné, The Mystery of Charlotte Lennox, and Kynaston, “The Life and Writing of Charlotte Lennox,” 26–7. Also, in May 1776, “The Case of Alexander Lennox, Esq (claiming the honour, title & dignity of) Earl of Lennox. To be heard at the bar of the House of Lords, before the Committee of Privileges, the (blank) day of May, 1776. Published: London?, 1776.” Four pages at Strathclyde Regional Archives, Glasgow, Scotland T-LX; ESTC record (T)197583. 63 Samuel Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 159). 64 Riddell, Inquiry into the Law and Practice in Scottish Peerages, 2:651. 65 Schürer, 253–4. 66 Lennox to Dodsley, 30 January 1793 (Schürer, 214). 67 Lennox to Veronica Boswell, 26 April 1794 (Schürer, 239). 68 Receipt (Mrs Martins from Charlotte Lennox), 15 June 1795 (Schürer, 242). 69 Calculations based on Olsen, Daily Life in Eighteenth-Century England. A pound of wheat flour = 4s 5d, a pound of butcher’s meat = 4s, ½ pound of cheese = 2s 5d, ½ pound of butter = 5s, ¼ pound of tea = 12s, ¼ pound sugar = 2s. 70 Alexander Boswell to Lennox, 7 May 1793 (Schürer, 229). 71 Ibid. 72 Gentleman’s Magazine 68 (May 1797): 438. 73 At some point she apparently had a son who died in infancy, but no other corroborating evidence supports this fact (British Magazine, July 1783). 74 Lady Frances Chambers to David Williams, 20 January 1802 (Schürer, 274). 75 Lennox to Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 185). 76 Harriet’s letter is only partially visible. Berg offers the plausible words in brackets: “My ma[ma tells me] to say I love you but not to [say how much] that would require a whole [page and not] leave space enough for me [to sign myself]” (The Lives and Letters of an Eighteenth-Century Circle of Acquaintance, 125–6); Lennox to Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 186).

424

Notes to pages 305−8

7 7 October 1778, London Metropolitan Archives MJ/SR 3358. 78 Johnson writes on 21 June 1780 to Mrs Thrale mentioning this fact, which occurred at some unspecified prior time that year (Johnson, The Letters of Samuel Johnson, 280). 79 Harriet died in 1782–3, probably after July 1783, since “Mrs. Lenox,” British Magazine, July 1783, 10 refers to “Miss Harriet, now about sixteen” as still alive. 80 Lennox, Euphemia, 302. 81 Schürer, 309. 82 Schürer, 309–10. 83 World and Fashionable Advertiser 43 (19 February 1787), signed “Amanda” and missing the last two lines. The poem is published in full as “On the Death of a Young Lady,” Town and Country Magazine 19 (March 1787): 138. In America it is again missing the last two lines, in The Herald of Freedom, and the Federal Advertiser 1.47 (24 February 1789): 192 and the Salem Gazette (30 August 1791): 4. 84 Published in A Collection of Interesting Anecdotes, Memoirs, Allegories, Essays, and Poetical Fragments. By Mr. Addison [pseudonym] (London, 1793), 180–1. 85 Schürer, 375. This was also published in Selection of Poems (London, 1808) and Elegant Extracts (Newark, England, 1813). 86 “On the Death of a Little Daughter,” Washington Whig 5.258, 26 June 1820, 3, which notes that the poem came “from the Boston Centinel.” The poem itself indicates “Cambridge, May 3.” The “Boston Centinel” was probably the Columbian Centinel, which was published in Boston, 6 May 1820, 4. 87 Lennox to Lydia Clerke, 16 June 1777 (Schürer, 375). 88 Lennox to Johnson, 17 June 1777 (Schürer 189–90). 89 Vicesimus Knox notes this in a letter to Thomas Winstanley, 19 February 1784 (Schürer, 204). 90 Lennox to Dodsley, 10 May 1784 (Schürer, 206). 91 Lennox to Walker King, 7 May 1782 (Schürer, 201). 92 2 June 1783, 461. Reprinted in Edinburgh Weekly Magazine 58 (2 October 1783): 18, and in the Whitehall Evening Post, 15 July 1783, 4 (Schürer, 339–40). 93 “Laura,” British Magazine and Review 3 (July 1783): 49–50 and Edinburgh Weekly Magazine 57 (25 September 1783): 401 (Schürer, 315–17). 94 “Sylvana,” British Magazine and Review 3 (August 1783): 136 (Schürer, 318–19). 95 Annette (Schürer, 326–38). 96 “Verses on a Young Lover Dangerously Ill,” British Magazine and Review 3 (October 1783): 297 and Weekly Entertainer 8.202 (13 November 1786): 477 (Schürer, 339–40). 97 “The Fate of Sophia,” Edinburgh Weekly Magazine 60 (29 April 1784): 136 and Wit’s Magazine; or, Library of Momus 1 (1784): 75–6 (Schürer, 345–6). 98 The Duke of Milan, New Novelist’s Magazine 1 (1786): 351–69 and Weekly Entertainer 9.225 (23 April 1787): 387–94; 9.226 (30 April 1787): 409–14; 9.227 (7 May 1787): 433–8; 9.228 (14 May 1787): 457–61; 9. 229 (21 May 1787): 481–6; and 9.230 (28 May 1787): 505–9 (Schürer, 347–74).



Notes to pages 309−16

425

99 “On Miss Lennox,” British Magazine and Review 3 (August 1783): 136 and Edinburgh Weekly Magazine 58 (29 October 1783): 114 (Schürer 320–1). 100 “Verses Written in the Character of an Unfortunate Lady,” British Magazine and Review 3 (September 1783): 207 (Schürer 324–5). 101 “On the Death of Miss Henrietta Hollis Lennox” (Schürer 375–6). 102 “Verses Addressed to the Prime-Minister,” British Magazine and Review 3 (December 1783): 455–6 (Schürer 341–2). 103 Gleaner 1 (1804): 320–9. 104 British Magazine and Review 3 (September 1783): 207 and Edinburgh Weekly Magazine 58 (27 November 1783): 271 (Schürer, 323). 105 Vicesimus Knox notes this in a letter to Thomas Winstanley, 19 February 1784 (Schürer, 204). 106 British Magazine, July 1783. 107 Knox’s Liberal Education (1781) appeared in eleven editions. 108 British Magazine and Review (December 1783): 455–6. 109 Lennox to Richard Johnson, 22 August 1793 (Schürer, 235–6n5). This was reported from the “Public Office, Bow Street,” in the Public Advertiser 18201 (5 November 1792). 110 Lennox to Richard Johnson, 22 August 1793 (Schürer, 235–6n5). 111 Schürer, 234. 112 See James Murray to Lennox, 8 February 1769 (Schürer, 118–20). 113 One could sail to America from Great Britain only from the spring to the late summer. 114 Lennox to Richard Johnson, 22 August 1793 (Schürer, 234). 115 Royal Literary Fund Minutes, 27 August 1793 (Schürer, 263). 116 The Royal Literary Fund report indicates that their money would support George’s passage to Virginia and then on to Baltimore, “where the young man’s friends reside” (Schürer, 249–52). 117 Mail was waiting for “George Louis Lenox” in the Philadelphia post office on 2 May 1794. Philadelphia Gazette and Universal Daily Advertiser, 2 May 1794, [3]: see “List of Letters Remaining in the Post-Office.” 118 Lennox to Veronica Boswell, 26 April 1794 (Schürer, 239). 12  “A Pen That Conferred Immortality” 1 Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 160). 2 Lennox to Johnson, 1776 (Schürer, 167). 3 Johnson to Lennox, 2 May 1775 (Schürer, 160). 4 Ibid. 5 Schürer, 160n1.

426

Notes to pages 316−22

6 Lennox petitioned Lord Rockingham around 7 May 1782; Lennox to Walker King, 7 May 1782 (Schürer, 201–2). 7 Lennox to Dodsley, 10 May 1784. 8 Euphemia Boswell (1774–1837). 9 The woman who captivated Boswell was twenty-two-year-old Euphemia Bruce, the daughter of a close family friend, James Bruce, who named his daughter after Boswell’s mother, Euphemia. Pottle Hankins and Strawhorn, eds., Introduction to The Correspondence of James Boswell with James Bruce and Andrew Gibb, Overseers of the Auchinleck Estate, xxxv. 10 Athenaeum (27 January 1855), 105. James Montgomery (1771–1854). 11 Holland and Everett, Memoirs of The Life and Writings of James Montgomery, 119. 12 Schürer dates these poems as being transcribed between 1782 and 1804. 13 This poem was written sometime between 1782 and 1804 (Schürer, 310). 14 Schürer, 311. 15 Ibid. 16 This poem was published anonymously in the Gentleman’s Magazine 20 (November 1750): 518. 17 This dynamic in both Lennox’s Harriot Stuart and Euphemia has been fruitfully discussed in Bannet’s “The Theater of Politeness in Charlotte Lennox’s BritishAmerican Novels,” and in Howard’s Introduction to the 2008 edition of Euphemia. 18 Polasky, Revolutions without Borders, 2 and 3. 19 British Magazine, July 1783. 20 Dickinson, ed., Britain and the American Revolution, 19. 21 Bradley, Popular Politics and the American Revolution in England, 135. 22 Plumb, In the Light of History, 86. 23 Richard Price, Observations on the Importance of the American Revolution (1785) in Peach, ed., Richard Price and the Ethical Foundations of the American Revolutions, 182. 24 Howard, “Introduction,” Euphemia (2008), 25; Gottlieb, The Family in the Western World, 235. 25 My thinking about how Lennox portrays colonial intercommunication has been greatly refined by unpublished work by Mary Helen McMurran, University of Western Ontario. 26 Lennox, Euphemia, 222. 27 Ibid., 68. 28 Ibid., 104. 29 Ibid., 106. 30 Ibid., 112. 31 Ibid., 112. 32 Ibid., 205. 33 Ibid., 62.



Notes to pages 322−31

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3 4 Ibid., 302. 35 Ibid., 265. 36 Ibid., 305. 37 Ibid., 265, Jeremy Taylor (1613–67) was known as the “Shakespeare of the Divines.” His devotionals Holy Living (1650) and Holy Dying (1651) were favourites of John Wesley. 38 Lennox, Euphemia, 308. 39 Ibid., 236. 40 Ibid., 359. 41 Ibid., 273. 42 Ibid., 338. 43 Ibid., 385. 44 Ibid., 391. 45 Ibid., 392. 46 Ibid., 264. 47 Aristotle, The Nichomachean Ethics, book 8. 48 Lennox, Euphemia, 197. 49 Ibid., 138; see especially note 1. 50 Ibid., 194. 51 Ibid., 195. 52 Ibid., 195 and 196. 53 Ibid., 368. 54 Ibid., 236. 55 Ibid., 146. 56 Ibid., 150. 57 Ibid., 179. 58 Ibid., 288. 59 Lennox wrote “Cohas Falls.” 60 Lennox, Euphemia, 288. 61 Thanks to Mary Helen McMurran for pointing out this connection of Fido to Brooke. 62 See Berg, “Getting the Mother’s Story Right.” 63 Lennox, Euphemia, 223. 64 Ibid., 217. 65 Ibid., 262. 66 Ibid., 288. 67 Ibid., 302. 68 Ibid., 297. 69 Ibid., 298. 70 Ibid., 373.

428

Notes to pages 331−6

71 Ibid., 374. 72 Ibid., 387. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid., 389. 75 Ibid., 390. 76 Ibid. 77 Ibid., 393. 78 Ibid., 366. 79 Ibid., 318. 80 Ibid., 226. 81 Ibid., 227. 82 Ibid., 229. 83 Ibid., 385. 84 Ibid., 326. “Chymbrick” is the adjectival term for the Chymbri, or ancient Britons. See The History of Cymbri (or Brittains): For Three Hundred Years From the Commencement of Christianity (n.p., 1746). “Chersonesus” refers to an ancient Greek colony. Howard explains: “Just as the Thracians (of the Cersonese peninusula) were deemed the most barbarous people, until that honor went to the Athenians and Achaeans, so the old order will give way to the new” (Lennox, Euphemia, 326n1). 85 Lennox, Euphemia, 310. 86 Ibid., 313. 87 Ibid., 230. 88 Ibid., 229. 89 Ibid., 220–2. 90 Ibid., 138. 91 Ibid., 315. 92 Ibid., 393. 93 Ibid., 393. 94 Lennox is quoting here from François de la Rochefoucauld. 95 Rivers, Literary Memoirs of Living Authors of Great Britain, 366. 96 European Magazine and London Review (August 1790): 121–2. 97 The review of Euphemia comes from the Critical Review 70 (July 1790): 81–3. Thanks to Hilary Havens for alerting me to this review. 98 Raven, in The English Novel, 1770−1829, ed. Garside, Raven, and Schöwerling, 1:50–4; Schürer, 216. 99 Schürer, 253–4. 100 This portrait was published by E. Harding, Fleet Street, on 2 March 1792 in the Hardings’ Shakespeare Illustrated. 101 Mary Hays (Letters and Essays, Moral and Miscellaneous) is particularly interested in a proper education for young women, mentioning education twenty-five times in



Notes to pages 337−8

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this short work. She writes favourably of Lennox’s works first when she writes to her friend who has asked for advice about what books to put “into the hands of [her] daughters” (95). Her comments about Lennox’s Sully translation continue with “The love of information will by innumerable associations, become at length almost disinterested, and every interval from active employment will be devoted to mental improvement” (97–8). Hays also includes a didactic story about an avid reader of heroic virtue, Henrietta, who, like Lennox’s Henrietta, “turned with disgust from pictures of vice, however glossed over by refinement, or painted in alluring colours by genius” (102). Hays does not mention Lennox’s novel Henrietta, but compares this “only daughter of Mr. L, a country gentleman” who “lost her mother … when she was yet too young to be sensible of her misfortune” (101) to The Female Quixote, who “entered the world, flushed with fallacious hope, and viewing every object through a false and dazzling medium. She drew all her ideas of life from the overcharged pictures in her favourite books” (104), leading to a sad set of circumstances that taught her to regret that she had been “a wayward child of feeling” (113) and to “pursu[e] … moral and religious truth” (114). Hays concludes with encouragement for this same mother: she “wish[es] to allay your anxiety respecting your Elizabeth’s taste for works of fancy; she will not, like Henrietta, but left without a guide” (114), and she should be taught “to read men, as well as books” (116), much as Arabella learns as she is “educated” to conform. 102 Schürer, 376nn1 and 2. 103 Robinson, A Letter to the Women of England, on the Injustice of Mental Subordination (London: Longman, 1799), 41. 104 Ibid. 105 Troide and Cooke, eds., The Early Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney, part 1, vol. 3, 329. Letter to Susanna Elizabeth Burney, [post 26 June 1779]. 106 Sully, Brumoy, and “several original works” were those cited in her 4 May 1792 case. 107 Lennox to Richard Johnson, 22 August 1793 (Schürer, 234–5). 108 Lennox to Dodsley, 30 January 1793 (Schürer, 214). 109 Ibid. 110 Barrett, Diary and Letters of Madame D’Arblay, 5:176. 111 Lennox to Boswell, 5 February 1793 (Schürer, 219). 112 Ibid. According to Hazen (Samuel Johnson’s Prefaces and Dedications), Johnson had written dedications for several of Lennox’s works: Female Quixote (94–8), Shakespear Illustrated (104–10), Sully (110–16), Philander (102–4), Brumoy (91–4), and the second edition of Henrietta (98–102). In A Bibliography of the Works of Samuel Johnson, Fleeman gives the same list – Female Quixote (1:325), Shakespear Illustrated (1:401), Sully (1:698), Philander (1:723), Brumoy (2:1007), and Henrietta (2:1022) – and tentatively adds Maintenon (1:711). Of course, Johnson had also written the proposal for Lennox’s 1775 Original Works (Schürer, 152–3).

430

Notes to pages 338−41

1 13 Boswell to Lennox, 17 February 1793 (Schürer, 221). 114 See Schürer, 227n20 for a list of the booksellers involved in Lennox’s subscription edition. 115 Lennox to Boswell, 5 February 1793 (Schürer, 219). 116 Princess Frederica Charlotte Ulrica Catherina (1767–1820) married Frederick Augustus, Duke of York and Albany (1763–1827) in 1791. He was the son of King George III and younger brother of the future King George IV. 117 Mary Gwyn to Lennox, c. 1793–9 (Schürer, 237–8). 118 Lennox to anon, 15 May 1793 (Schürer, 232). 119 Mary Gwyn to Lennox, c. 1793–9 (Schürer, 237). 120 Rivers, Literary Memoirs of Living Authors of Great Britain, 365. 121 Six illustrations: 1) painter T. Kirk, engraver W. Hawkins (9 March 1799); 2) drawn by R. Corbould, engraved by C. Armstrong (11 May 1799); 3) drawn by R. Corbould, engraved by C. Warren (13 April 1799). 4) painted by T. Kirk, engraved by A. Ramibach; 5) drawn by R. Corbould, engraved by C. Warren (6 September 1799); 6) drawn by R. Corbould, ornamented by R.W. Satchwell, engraved by C. Warren (1 August 1799). 122 Schürer, 246. 123 Beloe was supportive of a number of women in the arts. 124 Beloe, The Sexagenarian, 1:401. 125 Beloe to Nichols, 14 January 1802 (Schürer, 267). 126 Royal Literary Fund Minutes, 14 January 1802 (Schürer, 269–70). 127 Lady Frances Chambers to David Williams, 20 January 1802 (Schürer, 273–4). 128 Schürer, 274. 129 It should be noted that Lady Frances and Sir Robert’s life in India did not fit the self-involved one that Lennox mocked. 130 Schürer, 276–9. For consistency, guineas have been translated into pounds and shillings. There are twenty shillings in a pound and twenty-one shillings in a guinea. William Beloe married Mary Anne Rix (d. after 1817) in 1780. 131 RLF Minutes, 11 January 1803 (Schürer, 280). 132 37 Arundel Street. 133 RLF Minutes, 11 January 1803 (Schürer, 280). 134 Beloe to Boscawen, October 1803 (Schürer, 290). 135 RLF Minutes, 20 August 1803 (Schürer, 284). 136 RLF Resolution, September 1803 (Schürer, 286). 137 Receipt from Alexander Sutherland for Edmund Baker, 13 September 1803 (Schürer, 289). 138 Receipt from W. Annandale for Edmund Baker (2), 16 November 1803 (Schürer, 294). 139 Receipt from W. Annandale for Edmund Baker (3), 12 December 1803 (Schürer, 298).



Notes to pages 342−4

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1 40 Receipt from W. Annandale for Edmund Baker (4), 2 January 1804 (Schürer, 299). 141 Minutes, 15 December 1803. Schürer, 296. 142 Monthly Mirror 1805. 143 Steevens, ed., The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, f. 74. 144 Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, 1:208. 145 Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, 3:435. 146 The current name for the area that is the likely location of Lennox’s burial site is St John’s Gardens. This small park is south of Westminster Abbey between Horseferry Road and Page Street. Lennox died in Dean’s Yard, which is at the southwest corner of Westminster Abbey and a short walk to St John’s Gardens. The plaque at the current site notes that, during the late eighteenth century, “stealing bodies for dissection” was common and that intermittently guards were hired. Lennox’s Afterlife 1 “A lady of considerable genius, and who has long been distinguished for her literary merit” (Rivers, Literary Memoirs of Living Authors of Great Britain, 365); Chalmers, Biographical Dictionary, vol. 20, n.p.; Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, 3:435. 2 British Library 76.i.14, f. 18; see edition bound for George III’s library. 3 For example, William Musgrave, the Commissioner of Customs, owned a copy. 4 The Thespian Dictionary or Dramatic Biography (London, 1805); The Monthly Repository of Theology and General Literature, January to December Inclusive, 1809, vol. 4 (London: Longman, et. al., 1810), 189; E.A. Baker’s Biographia Dramatica (London, 1812); The General Biographical Dictionary, rev. and enlarged by Alexander Chalmers (London, 1815); John S. Burn’s The Fleet Registers to which are added notices of the May Fair, Mint and Savoy Chapels (London, 1834); Stephen Jones’s A New Biographical Dictionary (London, 1840); The Oxford Companion to American Literature; The Oxford Companion to English Literature. 5 This quotation comes from the preface. Huntington Library, 152290, vol. 20 includes a portrait of Lennox. In 1810 Chalmers edited numerous classical texts. Lennox’s portrait (Cook engraving) also appeared in the 1815 edition of Chalmers Biographical Dictionary. 6 Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, 3:200. 7 Bloodgood, An Englishman’s Sketchbook, 15 and 116. 8 Burney, 26 August 1778 (Troide and Cooke, eds., The Early Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney, part 1, vol. 3, 105). 9 In the same year in which she published Evelina, Burney wrote in her diary (26 August 1778), “Her ‘FQ’ is very justly admired here” (Barrett, ed., Diary and Letters of Madame D’Arblay, 1:86).

432

Notes to pages 344−8

10 Thanks to Betty Schellenberg for this reference. (1. (initialled fragment) to Fanny Burney, Robert H. Taylor Collection of English and American Literature (RTCO1); Manuscripts Division, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Library.) 11 Lennox, Euphemia, 256. 12 Thanks to Hilary Havens for sharing her unpublished essay, “Far the Best of Any Living Author.” 13 See Davidson, “Language Shibboleths, Conversational Code Breaking, and Moral Deviance,” 28–9. 14 Benger, The Female Geniad, canto 3, p. 47. 15 Ibid., canto 3, pp. 47–8. 16 Elizabeth Ogilvy Benger, “A Poem, Occasioned by the Abolition of the Slave Trade, in 1806,” in Poems on the Abolition of the Slave Trade (London: R. Bowyer, 1809), 105–38. 17 Benger, Memoirs of the late Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton. With a selection from her correspondence, and other unpublished writings (London: Longman, 1818); Memoirs of the Life of Anne Boleyn, Queen of Henry VIII (London: Longman, 1821); Memoirs of the Life of Mary Queen of Scots (London: Longman, 1823); Memoirs of Elizabeth Stuart, Queen of Bohemia, daughter of King James the First. Including sketches of the state of society in Holland and Germany, in the 17th century (London: Longman, 1825). 18 Barbauld, Anna Letitia Barbauld: Selected Poetry & Prose, 375. 19 Barbauld, ed., The British Novelists, i–iii. 20 Frances Wilson, The Courtesan’s Revenge, 17; Thirkell, Tribute for Harriette. 21 Lady Louisa Stuart was also the daughter of Lord Bute. This event would have occurred in 1766. Lady Louisa Stuart to Scott, c. 6 September 1826 (Grierson, ed., The Letters of Sir Walter Scott, 10:96). 22 New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linnaeus was issued in parts at twenty-five shillings each between 1799 and 1807. The prints measure twenty-two and a half inches in length and eighteen inches in width. “Aesculapius, Flora, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus” bears the inscription “published by Dr. Thornton on April 1, 1806.” This engraving was first published uncoloured on 1 May 1799, but its distribution does not seem to have been wide until all images were completed in 1807. 23 Literary Magazine (September 1805): 464. 24 See New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linnaeus, f. 21. 25 Temple of Flora, Or Garden of the Botanist, Poet, Painter and Philosopher (1812). 26 Miller and Reill, Visions of Empire, 221. 27 In a letter to Lennox (30 August 1787), Rev. Thomas Winstanley expresses his hopes about communion, that “Mrs. Thornton and her son Robert will join with you in [taking it] very soon” (Schürer, 208–9). In 1799, Lennox’s poem was engraved on “Asculapius …” when Robert Thornton was thirty-one and Lennox was sixty-nine.



Notes to pages 348−50

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28 George, Botany, Sexuality and Women’s Writing 1760–1830, 85. This is an excellent study of the connection between literary women and botany. Also see Shteir, Cultivating Women, Cultivating Science. 29 See Hayden, ed., The New Science and Women’s Literary Discourse. Hayden notes that early modern women like Mary Astell, Margaret Cavendish, Marquiese Du Châtelet, and Lady Anne Conway “began to incorporate their newfound ideas [about science] in their writing. In various forms of literary discourse, including poetry, fiction, periodical essays, diaries, letters, journals, and even drama, women attempted to engage with scientific ideas” (9). 30 In the 1780s Darwin had translated two key texts by Linneaus, and his epic poem The Botanic Garden (1791), which surveyed modern life and the Linnean classification of nature, was one of the most successful poems of the eighteenth century. See Shteir, “She comes! – the GODDESS!” 31 Charles Alston, Reverend Richard Polwhele, and John Berkenhout. For more on these men, see George, Botany, Sexuality and Women’s Writing 1760–1830. 32 Polwhele, The Unsex’d Females (1798), 29–34, qtd. from George, Botany, Sexuality and Women’s Writing 1760–1830, 120. 33 George, “Linneaus in Letters and the Cultivation of the Female Mind,” 3–6. Darwin recommended Rousseau’s Letters on the Elements of Botany, Addressed to a Lady, translated into English by Thomas Martyn (1785) and Maria Jacson’s Botanical Dialogues (1797). Erasmus Darwin’s educational plan in Loves of the Plants reflects “views on women’s education [that] were not remarkably liberal although he is unusual in suggesting that women should receive training in physical education and science” (4). 34 Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (London: J. Johnson, 1792), 277. 35 George, Botany, Sexuality, and Women’s Writing 1760–1830, 5. Jacson continued publishing books, revising her children’s book for adults with a new title, Botanical Lectures (1804), and showing her “extensive acquaintance with many other branches of natural history” with Sketches of the Physiology of Vegetable Life (1811). Margaret Bryan’s Lectures on Natural Philosophy (1806), Agnes Ibbetson’s thirty-three essays in Journal of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and the Arts beginning in 1810, Sarah Fitton’s Conversations on Botany (1817), and Jane Marcet’s Conversations on Natural Philosophy (1819) are manifestations of this growing field that allowed for women writers. For more information on these authors, see George (both titles), and Shteir, Cultivating Women, Cultivating Science. 36 George, “Linneaus and the Cultivation of the Female Mind,” 4–6. 37 Rousseau, Lettres elementaires sur la botanique (1771–4). 38 Mitchell-Boyask, Plague and the Athenian Imagination, 111. 39 See Shteir, Cultivating Women, Cultivating Science, 1. Flora is a teacher in the essay “Botanical Conversation,” published in the New Lady’s Magazine (May 1786): 177.

434

Notes to pages 350−3

Also, Charlotte Smith wrote “Flora,” which is a “virtuous reworking of Darwin’s poem for the young female market” (George, “Linnaeus in Letters and the Cultivation of the Female Mind,” 3). 40 In an ECCO word search of Greek Theatre, only two of the four figures appear: Ceres often, Cupid a few times. Asculapius and Flora are not included. 41 New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linneaus, Huntington HEH 493606, ff. 3–6. 42 Thornton calls himself “A Friend to Improvements” in A Philosophy of Medicine (1800). Thornton was also responsible for The Politician’s Creed; or Political Extracts: Being an Answer to These Questions, What is the best Form of Government? And What is the best Administration of a Government? By a Lover of Social Order (1799). In the dedication to William Wilberforce, Thornton notes that in this two-volume treatise he “assemble[d] … the most consummate Politicians of different countries, and each in turn delivers his sentiments on the topics to which he has given the whole bent of his mind. Thus we find condensed into one body the best sentiments of the profoundest politicians on a great variety of very interesting political questions.” 43 Literary Magazine (September 1805): 467. 44 New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linnaeus, Huntington HEH 493606. 45 The Linneaus bust was displayed in 1790 in the botanical garden at Paris, by a decree of the National Assembly (Picturesque Botanical Plates, vol. 1, f. 6, Huntington HEH 282000). 46 There are two distinct versions of this image. One is Huntington HEH 282000: London, Published by Dr. Thornton, June 1, 1803, Reinagle Sen A.R.A., pinx./ Burke Sculp. This image also appears in Wellcome Library, London, Iconographic Collections, V0042992: Cupid inspiring plants with Love, in a tropical landscape. Coloured stipple engraving by T. Burke, after P. Reinagle and Robert John Thornton, 1 June 1805; Size: platemark 43.4 x 34.8 cm. 47 Temple of Flora, f. 7. 48 Lady’s Museum 4:309–16; 6:467–73; 8:633–9. 49 George, “Linneaus in Letters and the Cultivation of the Female Mind,” 13. 50 Jane Austen, letter of 7 or 8 January 1807 (Le Faye, Jane Austen’s Letters, 119–20). 51 Stuart, Home Selections from the MSS of Lady Louisa Stuart, 235. Her writing was praised and her obituary in the Gentleman’s Magazine appeared under the heading “Literary Ladies,” but she had nothing published for fear of losing her status as a “lady of quality.” Jill Rubenstein describes Stuart as “Tory to the bone, never having forgiven the pain inflicted on her father by the scurrilous personal attacks of Wilkes and others,” and compares her politics to those of Sir Walter Scott, “a principled and consistent conservatism”; qtd. in Looser, British Women Writers and the Writing of History, 1670–1820, 215n13 (also see 64–7); Clark, ed., Gleanings from an Old Portfolio (Correspondence of Lady Louisa Stuart), 3:61.



Notes to pages 353−6

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52 The narrator notes that Angelina had a “striking resemblance to the female Quixote.” And, “as [she] likes romances,” Lady Frances suggests that they read it so that Angelina can tell her “which of all your acquaintance, the heroine resembles most.” 53 Gordon provides a useful analysis of these narratives in Postmodern Theory and the Practice of Quixotism. 54 Moskal, “‘To Speak in Sanchean Phrase,’” 30. 55 Darwin, Plan for the Conduct of Female Education in Boarding Schools (Derby: J. Johnson, 1797), 33. Erasmus Darwin also named Charlotte Smith’s Emmeline and Ethelinda, Elizabeth Inchbald’s Simple Story, and Frances Brooke’s Emily Montague. Also see Chernock, Men and the Making of Modern Feminism. 56 Don Quixote con Faldas (1808). 57 Silvester and Edward Harding, Shakespeare Illustrated, by an assemblage of Portraits & Views, appropriated to the Whole Suite of our Authors Historical Dramas, to which are added Portraits of Actors, Editors, & c London, Published according to act of Parliament, vol. 1, no. 11 (Huntington HEH 147727). 58 Steevens, The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, 1:466. See Silvester and Edward Harding, Shakespeare Illustrated, f. 10. 59 Gentleman’s Magazine 71 (February 1801): 128–9. 60 Gentleman’s Magazine 71 (July 1801): 610. 61 Steevens, The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, vol. 5, f. 74, 75. 62 Elizabeth Montagu is also honoured in this work, as are actresses Sarah Siddons, Nell Gwynn, and Mary Davis. 63 Hardinge was the author of The Essence of Malone; or the Beauties of that fascinating Writer, extracted from his immortal Work, published in 1800. 64 Francis Douce, Illustrations of Shakespeare (London, 1807), 177. He also criticizes Johnson’s preface to Shakespeare Illustrated in a note in Measure for Measure, saying that it “mark[s] the folly and absurdity of hireling dedications!” (157). Bodleian: Douce D 169. 65 Hardinge, Miscellaneous Works, 3:84 (letter 6). 66 The Whole Historical Dramas of William Shakespeare Illustrated, by an assemblage of Portraits of the Royal, Noble, and Other Persons Mentioned; Together with Those of Editors, Commentators, and Actors, and Views of Castles, Towns, &c. of the Respective Places Referred to; with Short Biographical and Topographical Accounts (London: Edward Jerry, 1811) (British Library 11968.c.4). 67 Coleridge gave his lectures in 1811–12. See Lectures on Shakespeare (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1931), 219. 68 Lady’s Monthly Museum, June 1813. 69 Thomas Campbell, The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare With a Life (London: Routledge, 1838), lxii–lxiii. Campbell notes that although he disagrees with Lennox’s analysis, his scorn “is softened” by his knowledge of her extensive and respected

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Notes to pages 356−7

oeuvre. He does not consider her a genius, since he disagrees with her criticisms of Shakespeare. However, he still thinks her worth being remembered in posterity. “Without genius, she possessed talents, and her industry and misfortunes have a claim on our interests.” 70 Manuel Noah Mordecai, Shakespeare Illustrated; or, the Novels and Histories on which the Plays of Shakespeare are founded. Collected and Translated from the Originals. By Mrs. Lennox. Author of the Female Quixote, etc. With Critical Remarks and Biographical Sketches of the Writers…In Two Volumes (Philadelphia: Bradford and Inskeep, 1809). 71 Ibid., viii. 72 Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1931), 114. 73 Bennett, American Women Theater Critics, 12. 74 Harold Bloom, Bloom’s Shakespeare through the Ages (New York: Chelsea House Publications, 2010). Lennox appears in many of the twenty-one volumes. 75 See the new edition (revised and corrected) of the 1810 edition of Sully in 5 volumes (London: Printed for William Miller). 76 Autobiography during the Religious Wars, xiii. Lennox was not given credit for this translation. 77 University Library of Autobiography, ed. Nicholas Van Rijn, reissued in 2005 by the University Press of the Pacific, Honolulu. 78 Ilbert, “Review,” 381.

Publications, Editions, and Reprints

When editions are not at the British Library or on WorldCat, reference information is included at the end of the reference in square brackets. Poems on Several Occasions (Poems) 1747 Poems on Several Occasions, Written by a Young Lady. London: S. Paterson. 1750 “The Art of Coquetry by Mrs Charlotte Lennox” Reprinted from Poems in Gentleman’s Magazine (November): 518–19. 1769 “The Art of Coquetry by Mrs. Charlotte Lenox.” The New Foundling Hospital for Wit, 3:136–40. 1782 “The Art of Coquetry by Mrs. Lennox.” Lady’s Poetical Magazine or Beauties of British Poetry, 303–6. 1785 “The Art of Coquetry by Mrs. Lennox.” Poems by the Most Eminent Ladies of Great Britain and Ireland, Republished from the Collection of G. Coleman and B. Thornton, 2:5–8. “On the Birth Day of her Royal Highness …” (Poem) 1750 “On the Birth Day of her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales. Written by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox.” Gentleman’s Magazine (November): 518. 1750 “On the Birth Day of her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales. Written by Mrs. Charlotte Lenox.” Magazine of Magazines (December): 552. The Life of Harriot Stuart (Novel) 1751 The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself. London: J. Payne and J. Bouquet. 1751 The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself. Dublin: J. Exshaw. 1752 Het Leven van Henriette Stuart. Beschreven door haer zelve. Translated by P.A. Verwer. Amsterdam: Groot. 1757 “To Delia. Inviting her to a Retreat in the Country.” Reprinted from Harriot Stuart (orig. “Eloisa to Delia. Inviting her to a Retreat in the Country”) in Gentleman’s Magazine (27 August): 372.

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Publications, Editions, and Reprints

1757 “A Hymn to Venus.” Reprinted from Harriot Stuart in Gentleman’s Magazine (27 December): 564. 1757 “On Reading Hutchison on the Passions.” Reprinted from Harriot Stuart in Gentleman’s Magazine (27 December): 564–5. 1757 “An Evening Ode, under Affliction.” Reprinted from Harriot Stuart in Gentleman’s Magazine (27 December): 565. 1771 The Life of Harriot Stuart, Written by Herself. London: T. Becket, P.A. Hondt and T. Cadell. 1789 Histoire de Miss Henriette Stuard. Translated by G. de Fleuriot. Geneva and Paris: Briand. 1795 Henriette Stuard, ou Le Danger du désir de plaire. Translated by J.-P. Claris de Florian. Lausanne: Durand and Ravanel. 1995 The Life of Harriot Stuart. Ed. S.K. Howard. Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press. Memoirs of the Duke of Sully (likely attribution) (Translation) 1751 Memoirs of the Duke of Sully. By Pierre Mathurin de L’Écluse des Loges. Translated from the French. London: Dodsley. 1751 Memoirs of the Duke of Sully. By Pierre Mathurin de L’Écluse des Loges. Translated from the French. Dublin: G. and A. Edwing. The Female Quixote (Novel) 1752 The Female Quixote; or, The Adventures of Arabella. London: A. Millar. 1752 The Female Quixote; or, The Adventures of Arabella. Second edition, Revised and Corrected. London: A. Millar. 1752 The Female Quixote: or, The Adventures of Arabella. Dublin: J. Smith. 1754 Don Quixote im Reifrocke, oder die abentheuerlichen Begebenheiten der Romanenheldinn Arabella. Translated by H.A. Pistorius. Hamburg and Leipzig: G.C. Grund and A.H. Holle. 1762 Adventuuren van Donna Quichote: Zeldzaame gevallen van Arabella. Netherlands: K. van Tangerlo. 1763 The Female Quixote: or, The Adventures of Arabella. Third edition. Dublin: Whitestone. 1773 Don Quixote Femelle. Translated by J.-M. Crommelin. Lyon: Libraires Associés. 1774 The Female Quixote [abridgment], The British Novelist: Or, Virtue and Vice in Miniature, vol 2. London: J. French. 1774 The Female Quixote [abridgment]. London: R. Snagg. 1780 The Female Quixote [abridgment]. London: J. Bow. 1783 The Female Quixote; or, The Adventures of Arabella. London: Harrison and Co. 1783 The Female Quixote; or, The Adventures of Arabella. In Novelist’s Magazine 12 (17 May–7 June). 1798 Le avventure di Arabella, donna Chisciotte. Translated by Ornella De Zordo. Ferrara: L. Tufani.

Publications, Editions, and Reprints

 439

1799 The Female Quixote; or, The Adventures of Arabella. “Embellished With Superb Engravings.” London: Printed for C. Cooke. 1801 Arabella, ou le Don Quichotte femelle. Paris: Bertrandet. 1808 Don Quijote Con Faldas; o Perjuicios morales de las disparatadas novellas. Translated by Bernardo María de Calzada. Madrid: Fuentenebro y Compañia. 1810 The Female Quixote; or The Adventures of Arabella. A New Edition. London: F.C. and J. Rivington; Otredge and Son; A. Strahan etc; York: Wilson and Son; Edinburgh: W. Creech; etc. 1810 The Female Quixote. In British Novelists, vol. 24. Preface by Anna Letitia Barbauld. London: F.C. and J. Rivington. 1820 The Female Quixote. In British Novelists, vol 25. Preface by Anna Letitia Barbauld. London: F.C. and J. Rivington. 1970 The Female Quixote, or The Adventures of Arabella. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Literature House. 1974 The Female Quixote. New York: Garland. 1976 Der weibliche Quixhotte oder Arabellas Abenteuer Roman. Weimar: Kiepenheuer. 1989 The Female Quixote. Edited by M. Dalziel, introduction by M. Doody, and chronology and appendix by D. Isles. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. 1998 Le avventure di Arabella, Donna Chisciotte. Translated by Lucia Loni, preface by Ornella De Zordo. Ferrara: L. Tufani. 2006 The Female Quixote. Edited by A. Gilroy and W. Verhoeven, introduction by A. Gilroy. New York: Penguin. Shakespear Illustrated (Literary Criticism and Translations) 1753–4 Shakespear Illustrated: or The Novels and Histories, on which the Plays of Shakespear are founded, Collected and Translated from the Original Authors with Critical Remarks. London: A. Millar. 1761 “The Tale of Geneura. From the Italian of Ariosto.” Lennox’s translation from Shakespeare Illustrated 3:231–56 and Lady’s Museum 2:10. Dublin Library 1 (30 May/15 June–15 June/30 June). 1761 “The Tale of Geneura.” Magazine of Magazines 21 (June). 1763 “The Tale of Geneura.” Repository nos. 3–4. 1779 “The Tale of Geneura.” Lady’s Museum 10 (February–March). 1779 “The Tale of Geneura.” Gentleman’s and London (March–April). 1786 “The Tale of Geneura.” New Novelist’s Magazine 1:95–102. 1809 Shakespear Illustrated; or, the Novels and Histories on which the Plays of Shakespear are founded. Collected and Translated from the Originals. With critical remarks and biographical sketches of the writers, by Mordecai Manuel Noah. Philadelphia: Bradford and Inskeep.

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Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully (Translation) 1756 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully, Prime Minister to Henry the Great. Containing The History of the Life and Reign of that Monarch, And his own Administration under him. By Pierre Mathurin de L’Écluse des Loges. Translated from the French. “To which is added, The Tryal of Ravaillac for the Murder of Henry the Great.” 3 volumes. London: A. Millar, R. and J. Dodsley, and W. Shropshire. 1757 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 5 volumes. London: A. Millar, R. and J. Dodsley, and W. Shropshire. 1760 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 5 volumes. Edinburgh: A. Donaldson. 1761 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 3 volumes. Third edition. London: A. Millar, R. and J. Dodsley, and W. Shropshire. 1763 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 6 volumes. Fourth edition. London: A. Millar, R. and J. Dodsley, and W. Shropshire. 1770 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 5 volumes. Edinburgh: A. Donaldson. 1773 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 5 volumes. Edinburgh: J. Robertson. 1778 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 6 volumes. Fifth edition. London: J. Rivington and Sons, J. Dodsley, S. Crowder, G. Robinson, T. Cadell, and T. Evans. 1778 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 6 volumes. New edition. London: J. Rivington and Sons, J. Dodsley, S. Crowder, G. Robinson, T. Cadell, and T. Evans. 1781 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 5 volumes. Fifth edition. Dublin: W. Watson, etc. 1805 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 5 volumes. Edinburgh: A. Lowrie, etc. 1810 The Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, Prime Minister to Henry the Great. Translated from the French. “New Edition. Revised and Corrected,” with additional notes, some letters of Henry the Great, and a brief historical introduction by Sir Walter Scott. 5 volumes. London: W. Miller. 1812 Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully … 5 volumes. “A New Edition.” London: Lackington, Allen, etc. 1817 The Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, Prime Minister to Henry the Great. Translated from the French. “New Edition. Revised and Corrected,” with additional notes, some letters of Henry the Great, and a brief historical introduction by Sir Walter Scott. 5 volumes. Philadelphia: E. Earle and J. Maxwell.

Publications, Editions, and Reprints

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1819 Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, Prime Minister of Henry the Great: with The Trial of Francis Ravaillac, for the Murder of Henry the Great; and An Appendix, containing Refutations of the Abbe de l’Ecluse’s Correctional Notes, Exculpatory of the Jesuits. “A New edition, Carefully Corrected. Embellished with Portraits.” 5 volumes. Edinburgh: Stirling and Slade, etc. and London: F.C. and J. Rivington etc. 1856 Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, Prime Minister to Henry the Great. Translated from the French. “A New Edition, Revised and Corrected; with additional notes, and an historical introduction, attributed to Sir Walter Scott.” 4 volumes. With a general index. London: H.G. Bohn. 1921 Sully’s Grand Design of Henry IV: From the Memoirs of Maximilien de Béthune, duc de Sully (last book of Sully). Edited by David Ogg. London: Sweet and Maxwell. 1931 Sully’s Grand Design of Henry IV. Edited by David Ogg. London: Sweet and Maxwell. 1939 Grand Design of Henry IV: From the Memoirs of Maximilien de Béthune, duc de Sully. Edited by David Ogg. London: Peace Book. 2005 University Library of Autobiography (includes Sully book 1). Edited by Nicholas Van Rijn. Honolulu: University Press of the Pacific. The Memoirs of the Countess of Berci (Translation) 1756 The Memoirs of the Countess of Berci. Translated from Ignace-Vincent Guillot de la Chassagne, Le Chevalier des Essars et la Comtesse de Berci (1735), which is an adaptation of Vital d’Audiguier’s Histoire trage-comique de nostre temps, sous le noms de Lysandre et de Caliste (1615). Includes, without mention on title page, The History of the Count de Comminge. London: A. Millar. The History of the Count de Comminge (Translation) 1756 The History of the Count de Comminge. By Claudine Alexandrine Guérin de Tencin. Translated from the French. In The Memoirs of the Countess of Berci, 135–228. London: A. Millar. 1760–1 History of the Count de Comminge. In Lennox’s Lady’s Museum. London: J. Newbery and J. Coote. 1786–7 “The History of the Count de Comminge. Supposed to be written by himself.” New Novelist’s Magazine 2:275–301. 1818 History of Count De Comminge, of the Silent Order of la Trappe; written by himself: to which are added several interesting particulars of the monastery, and a short memoir of de Rance its celebrated reformer. Havant: Skelton. 2011 The History of the Count de Comminge. By Claudine Alexandrine Guérin de Tencin. Edited by Marianna D’Ezio. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars. Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon and of the Last Age (Translation) 1757 Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon and of the Last Age. By Laurent Angliviel de La Beaumelle. Translated from the French.

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5 volumes. London: A Millar, J. Nourse, R. and J. Dodsley, L. Davis, and C. Reymer. 1758 Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon and of the Last Age. By Laurent Angliviel de La Beaumelle. Translated from the French. 3 volumes. Dublin: A. and H. Bradley. Philander (Play) 1758 Philander. A Dramatic Pastoral. London: A. Millar. 1758 Philander. A Dramatic Pastoral. Dublin: R. Smith. Henrietta (Novel) 1758 Henrietta. London: A. Millar. 1758 Henrietta. Dublin: G. Faulkner, S. Cotter, and H. Bradley. 1758 Henriette. Translated by G.J. Monod. Amsterdam: M.-M. Rey. 1760 Henriette. Translated by G.J. Monod. Paris: Duchesne. 1760 Henriette. Translated by G.J. Monod. Lausanne: A. Chapuis. 1761 Henrietta. Second edition, corrected. London: A. Millar. 1769 Henrietta. Second edition. None extant. Advertised in Lloyd’s Evening Post, 1–3 March 1769 and London Chronicle, 7–9 March 1769. London: A. Millar, sold by Lowndes. 1770 Henrietta. Second edition. None extant. Advertised in St. James Chronicle, 27 March 1770; London Chronicle, 24 March 1770; and back of Harriot Stuart, 1771. London: T. Lowndes. 1771 Henriette. Second improved edition. Frankfurt: J.J. Keßler [Staatsbibliothek Berlin Zd 2575(2)]. 1775 Henriette Wyndham ou La Couquette Abusée. Paris: Lejay. 1775 Henriette Wyndham ou La Couquette Abusée. Amsterdam: D.J. Changuion. 1777 Henriette. Translated by G.J. Monod. Lausanne: n.p. 1781 Henriette. Translated by C.G. Ekeburg. Stockholm: C. Stolpe [Kungliga biblioteket 1700–1829 59 A]. 1786 Henrietta. Dublin: M. Mills. 1787 Henrietta. Second edition. London: Harrison and Co.. 1787 Henrietta. In Novelist’s Magazine 23. London: Harrison and Co. 1789 Miss Courtenay, ou, Les épreuves du Malheur. Paris: Maradan. 1798 Henrietta. London: C. Cooke. 1974 Henrietta. Facsimile of Millar edition, 1758. New York: Garland. 2008 Henrietta. Edited by R. Perry and S. Carlile. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky. The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy (Translation) 1759 The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy. London: Millar, Vaillant, etc. The Lady’s Museum (Periodical) 1760–1 The Lady’s Museum (1 March 1760–1 January 1761). London: J. Newbery and J. Coote. 1786 “Bianca Capello.” New Novelist’s Magazine 1:16–24.

Publications, Editions, and Reprints

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Sophia (Novel) 1762 Sophia. Reprinted from the Lady’s Museum, where it appeared as “The History of Harriot and Sophia.” London: James Fletcher. 1762 Sophia. Dublin: J. Hoey. 1769 “Sophia.” [abridgment]. Dublin Mercury, 23 February and 6 July. 1770 Sophie, ou Le Triomphe des Grâces sur la Beauté. Translated by La Flotte. Paris: Duchesne. 1785 Sophia: eller Dygdens och behagens seger öfwer skönheten; sedolärande, dock ej torr roman. Stockholm: J.A. Carlbohm [Kungliga biblioteket 1700–1829 59 A]. 2008 Sophia. Edited by N. Schürer. Peterborough, ON: Broadview. The History of the Marquis of Lussan and Isabella (Translation) 1764 The History of the Marquis of Lussan and Isabella. “By Mrs. Lennox, Author of the Female Quixote, and Sophia.” (“History of the Count de Comminge” translation with an interchange of names and a change of ending.) Dublin: J. Hoey. Bodleian 256 f.2896. 1769 The History of the Marquis of Lussan and Isabella. “By Mrs. Lenox, author of ‘Harriot and Sophia.’” New edition. Not extant. Advertisement in Dublin Mercury, 27–9 June. The History of Eliza (Novel) 1767 The History of Eliza. London: J. Dodsley. 1767 The History of Eliza. Dublin: G. Faulkner. The Sister (Play) 1769 The Sister. London: J. Dodsley and T. Davies. 1769 The Sister. Second edition. London: J. Dodsley and T. Davies. 1769 The Sister. Dublin: P. and W. Wilson, etc. 1776 Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl. In Hamburgisches Theater, vol. 1. Translated by Johann Christian Bock. Hamburg: Printed by J.J.C. Bode for the TheatralDirecktion. 1776 Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl. Munich: n.p. [Münchener DigitalisierungsZentrum]. 1776 Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl. In Deutsche Schaubühne, part 109. Vienna: Logenmeister. 1777 Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl. Frankfurt and Leipzig: J.G. Fleischer. 1778 Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl. Frankfurt: n.p. [According to Johann Samuel Ersch in Handbuch der deutschen Literatur, new edition (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1840), column 579.] 1788 [The Sister]. Translated by V. Levshin. Moscow: Universitetskaia Tipografiia u N. Novikova [Harvard 006441037]. 1796 Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl. Hanover: Hahn. [According to Johann Samuel Ersch in Handbuch der deutschen Literatur, new edition (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1840), column 579.]

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Meditations and Penitential Prayers (Original Biography and Translation) 1774 Meditations and Penitential Prayers. By Louise de La Vallière, Duchess de La Vallière. Translated from the French. Biography of Vallière by Lennox. London: J. Dodsley. Old City Manners (Play) 1775 Old City Manners. “A Comedy. Altered from the Eastward Hoe, written by Jonson, Chapman, and Marston. By Mrs. Lennox. As it is performed at the Theater-Royal, in Drury-Lane.” London: T. Becket. Euphemia (Novel) 1790 Euphemia. London: T. Cadell and Jay Evans. 1790 Euphemia. Dublin: B. Smith. 1791 Euphemia, 1 page advertisement. London: T. Cadell … J. Evans … and J.S. Jordan [Bodleian 013512297]. 1791–2 Euphemia. Translated by Meta Forkel-Liebeskind. Berlin and Küstrin: F. Oehmigke. 1989 Euphemia. Facsimile edition. Introduction by M.A. Schofield. New York: Scholars’ Facsimiles. 1992 Euphemia. Facsimile edition. Introduction by P. Garside. London: Routledge/Thoemmes. 2008 Euphemia. Edited by S.K. Howard. Peterborough, ON: Broadview.

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Index

Italics indicate figures Aberdeen, 311 Abington, Frances, 157 abolitionism, 252, 317, 346, 414n1 Adams, Thomas, 283 Addison, Joseph: “Shalum and Hilpah,” 91; Spectator, 173 Aeschylus, 161, 394n95 Aesop’s Fables, 33–4 Africans and African Americans, 26, 29. See also abolitionism; slavery Aikin, Anna Letitia. See Barbauld, Anna Letitia Akenside, Mark, 188 Albany, New York, xvii, 5, 25–6, 33, 48, 63, 222, 272, 365n23; Dutch population in, 26, 28–30, 35, 323, 329; English military presence in, 26; Fort Frederick, 26, 28, 30, 35, 344; in Lennox’s fiction, 26, 28–31, 35, 63–4, 323, 329, 334; officers stationed at (see Butler, Walter; Clarke, Edward; Dick, William; Lindsay, [British officer at Albany]; Nicholl, Andrew; Ramsay, James; Rutherford, [Captain]; trade with Native Americans, 29, 329. See also New York (colony)

Algarotti, Francesco, 99–100, 383n69 Almon, John, xxii, 217, 239–40, 244, 406n61, 413nn79–80 Amboyna, 179, 195, 220 Amelia (princess), 38, 40–2, 52, 210 American colonies. See British North America American Revolution, 10, 210, 238–40, 252, 265, 272–3, 318–20, 414n1; British sympathy for colonists, 319; pro-colonial books published by Almon, 240 Anglicans. See Church of England Annandale, W., 341–2 anti-romance, 91–3, 153 Ariosto, Ludovico, 112, 118, 128, 178, 355; Orlando Furioso, 114, 116 Aristophanes, 161, 394n101 Aristotle, 128, 397n23 Arne, Thomas, 157 Art of Governing a Wife; With Rules for Bachelors, 55 Astell, Mary, 12, 52, 401n93, 433n29; Serious Proposal to the Ladies, A, 12, 197 Atwood, Margaret, 261

466 

Index

Aubin, Penelope, 62, 347n11 Augusta (princess), plate 3, 52, 73, 233, 239, 241, 359n10 Austen, Cassandra, 353 Austen, Jane, 6–7, 19, 37, 242, 345, 353 authorship, 6–7, 56, 260, 309; eighteenth century changes in, 6, 138, 253; and Lennox, 7, 15, 56, 74, 95, 178, 214, 275, 343; and poverty, 138–9; and women writers, 15, 56, 60, 70, 151, 185, 242, 343. See also copyright Backscheider, Paula, 68 Bacon, Sir Francis, 324–5, 327 Ballard, George, 18 Baltimore, xix, 312, 425n116 Bandello, Matteo, 112, 117–18, 126 Banks, Sir Joseph, 350 Barbauld, Anna Letitia (Aikin), xviii, 209, 245, 299–300, 346–7; British Novelists, 346–8; and Fénelon, 197; on Lennox’s significance, 8, 166, 346; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278, 346 Barber, Mary, 371n41 Baretti, Giuseppe, 109, 115, 132–5, 147, 151, 202, 208, 385n25; Dissertation upon the Italian Poetry, 132; Italian Library, The, 114; and Johnson, 114, 132–4, 385n26; “Ode to Charlotte Lennox,” 133–4; on “reasonable,” bloodless writing, 134, 151; tutors Lennox in Italian, 114, 132, 301 Barker, Thomas, 129–30 Barrett, Eaton Stannard, 353 Barry, Ann, 258 Bartolozzi, Francesco, xviii, xx, 205, 254, 336, 355, 403n3 Beaufort, Gabrielle d’Estrées, Duchess of, 178–9, 248

Bedford Coffee House, 277 Behn, Aphra, 7, 14, 58, 100, 246, 278, 347, 374n11, 375n13; Oroonoko, 62 Beloe, William, 299, 339–41, 416n34, 430n123 Benger, Elizabeth Ogilvy, 345–6 Bennett, Alma J., 357 Bennett, John, 287 Berkeley, George: Ladies’ Library, 197 biographies, 40, 83, 121–2, 127, 181, 345; and autobiography, 46, 62, 66, 138, 357; of Lennox, 17–19, 77, 83, 85, 316–17, 342, 344, 354–7, 362nn52–5, 365n21; published by Lennox, 6, 138, 176, 178–9, 215, 247–9, 357 Biographium Foemineum: The Female Worthies, 181–2 Birch, Thomas, 40, 55, 59, 117–18, 161 Bloodgood, Simeon De Witt, 344 Bloom, Harold, 357 Bluestockings, the, 15, 56, 150, 176, 207–8, 219, 278, 285, 404n18; averse to publication, 208, 215, 248, 283; feminism of, 18, 207; and hierarchy of literary genres, 208, 248; Lennox isolated from, 15, 153, 219, 285. See also Boscawen, Frances; Chapone, Hester; Montagu, Elizabeth; Vesey, Elizabeth Boadicea, 9, 215 Boccaccio, Giovanni, 112 Boleyn, Anne, 346 Bolingbroke, Henry St John, first Viscount, 113 booksellers and printers, British North America: Franklin, Benjamin, 55; Mordecai, Manuel Noah, 356 booksellers and printers, Europe, 77, 237; Fauche-Borel, Louis, 77;

Index Hörling, Johann David, 77; Société Typographique de Neuchâtel, 77 booksellers and printers, Ireland, 78, 237, 338; Ewing, G. and A., 79; Hoey, James, 152, 203, 391n51; Smith, R., 158 booksellers and printers, London, 56, 74, 77, 84, 138–9, 146, 153, 155, 201, 206, 211, 215, 219, 224, 237–8, 247, 252–4, 276–7, 295, 300, 308, 396n15; Almon, John, 217, 239–40, 244, 406n61, 412n71, 413n79, 413n80; Becket, Thomas, 77, 253, 276; Becket, Hondt and Cadell, 77; Bouquet, Joseph, 73, 377n73; Boydell, John and Josiah, 355; Cadell, Thomas, 77, 215, 245, 338; Cadell and Evans, 338; Cooke, C., 339; Coote, John, 178, 203, 397n26, 403n131; Darres,William, 51, 373n71; Davies, Thomas, 237; Davison, Thomas, 51, 373n71; Dilly, Charles, 338; Dodsley, James, 144, 222, 224–5, 237, 247–8, 253, 259–60, 263, 276–7, 302, 308, 316, 337–8, 407n85, 408n97; Dodsley, Robert, 50, 78–9, 138, 144, 260, 379n109, 407n85; Griffiths, Ralph, 75, 378n91; Hookham, Thomas, 338; Hondt, P.A., 77, 338; Lowndes, Thomas, 142, 237, 252; Millar, Andrew, 51, 72, 82, 87–8, 113, 138, 142, 144–9, 157–8, 167, 179, 206, 215, 245, 252, 276–7, 338, 362n52, 377nn73–4, 402n125, 404n10; Newbery, John, 188, 203, 206, 276, 397n26, 401n112; Paterson, Samuel, 46–7, 76, 139, 219, 371n42, 377n74; Payne, John, 51, 55, 72–3, 76–7, 82, 373n71, 377n73, 377n75; Payne, Thomas, 55; Rivington, F.C. and J., 354; Shropshire, William, 144,

 467

277; Snagg, R., 246, 413n91; Strahan, William, 49–50, 55, 72–3, 140, 213, 215, 276–7, 315, 377n74, 378n80; Tonson, Jacob, 113, 119. See also copyright; Richardson, Samuel Boscawen, Frances, 15, 207 Boscawen, William, 341 Boston, 77, 306–7 Boswell, Alexander, 303, Boswell, Elizabeth, 297–8 Boswell, Euphemia, 297–8, 316–17 Boswell, James, plate 9, 83, 95, 202, 297–9, 304, 338–9; Life of Johnson, 17, 83–4, 121, 283, 297–8, 338 Boswell, James, Jr, 298 Boswell, Margaret (Montgomerie), 298 Boswell, Veronica, 297–8 Boudier de Villemert, Pierre-Joseph, 177–8; L’Ami des Femmes, 177, 195, 197 Bourryau, John, 162 Bradley, James, 266 Brathwaite, Sylvia, 207, 289 Bristol, 10, 209 British Museum, 171, 188 British North America, 27, 28; bad behaviour of British in, 273; Canada, 78, 300; colonial literature in, 67; and the frontier, 67; Lennox novels set in, 6, 25–6, 29–31, 56, 62–4, 67, 92, 318–22, 328; market for accurate literary representation of, 55–6; and liberty of discourse between the sexes, 48; satirized, 55; as site of the undiscovered, 64. See also Albany, New York; Native Americans; New York (colony); Ramsay, James Bronson, Bertrand H., 84 Brooke, Frances, 16, 84, 127, 188, 232, 244–5, 289, 300, 328–9; and

468 

Index

David Garrick, 127; History of Emily Montague, 78; Lennox’s compliment for, 328; Old Maid, The, 84, 88, 179–80, 186–8 Brown, Ann, 305 Brumoy, Pierre. See Lennox, Charlotte, works: The Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy Buchanan, George: History of Scotland, 126 Bunbury, Catherine (Gwyn), 338 Bunbury, Henry, 338 Bunyan, John: Pilgrim’s Progress, 91 Burgoyne, John: The Heiress, 238 Burlington, Elizabeth (Compton) Cavendish, Countess of, 206 Burney, Frances, 15–16, 56, 42, 84–5, 233, 283, 300, 337–8, 344; Camilla, 345; Cecilia, 328, 344; Evelina, 344; influenced by Lennox, 19, 344–5; Wanderer, The, 345 Burns, Robert, 348 Bute, John Stuart, third Earl of, 213, 217, 233, 275, 412n63; Bute faction, 233, 239, 275. See also Stuart, Lady Louisa Bute, Mary (Wortley Montagu) Stuart, Countess of, 275, 412n77, 419n114 Butler, Walter, 28–9, 366n33 Cambridge University, 140, 255, 356–7 Camden, Charles Pratt, first Earl, 253, 296 Campbell, John, 44–5 Campbell, Thomas, 356, 435–6n69 Capell, Edward, 131 Capello, Bianca, 9, 177, 179, 248 Carolina (princess), 38, 40 Cartagena expedition, the, 36 Carter, Elizabeth, xviii, xxii, 15, 56, 73, 84, 150, 154, 201, 220, 242–3, 245, 283, 300, 344, 404n22; All the Works

of Epictetus, 176, 180, 220; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278–9; praises Lennox’s works, 52, 79; as translator, 100, 176, 220 Castracani, Castruccio, 179, 194 Catalogue of Five Hundred Celebrated Authors of Great Britain, 317 Cave, Edward, 45, 72, 83, 173, 377n75, 389n6. See also newspapers and magazines: Gentleman’s Magazine Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de, 128, 246; Don Quixote, 82, 91–3, 105–6, 380n1; and Lennox’s Female Quixote, 7, 16, 81–2, 86, 102, 105, 109, 119, 230, 246, 261, 316, 346, 354. See also antiromance; metafiction; picaresque Ceylon, 179, 195, 220 Chambers, Lady Frances, 83, 304, 340 Chambers, Sir Robert, 340 Chambers, William, 278, 413n85 Chapman, George. See Lennox, Charlotte, works: Eastward Ho Chapone, Hester: Letters on the Improvement of the Mind; Addressed to a Lady, 248, 404n22 Charke, Charlotte, 58 Charlemont, James Caulfield, fourth Viscount, 158, 210, 393n78 Charles I (king), 179 Charles II (king), 262, 265, 278 Charlotte (queen), 233, 255, 277 Chatham, William Pitt, first Earl of, 217, 393n78, 407n82, 412n63 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 112 Chillingworth, William, 40 China, 208, 267 Chudleigh, Lady Mary, 14 Church of England, 24, 207, 221, 256, 283 Churchill, Charles, 203–4, 213; and Wilkes, 217, 240

Index Cicero, 160 Cipriani, Giovanni Battista, 245 civic humanism, 173, 176, 191, 194, 198, 204, 207 Clarke, Edward (captain), 29, 365n33 Clarke, George (governor), 28–30 Cleland, John: Fanny Hill, 75 Clerke, Charles, 207 Clerke, John, 207, 286, 294 Clerke, Lady Lydia, 286–7, 289, 291–6, 300–1, 303–5, 307, 312, 332, 340; as model writer and model wife, 294 Clinton, George (governor), 28, 30 Clinton, George (officer), 365n16 Clive, Kitty, 157 Cockburn, Catherine. See Trotter, Catherine Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 356 Collier, Jane, 50, 136, 373n68 Collyer, Mary, 58 Colman, George, xviii, 234, 235; and Old City Manners, 263–5; and The Sister, 230, 235–6, 238; and Wilkes, 240. See also Covent Garden Theatre Congreve, William: The Mourning Bride, xvii, 51, 256, 335 consumer culture, 14, 56 Cook, Henry R., xxi, 205 Cooper, James Fenimore, 67 copyright, 57, 113, 119, 252–4, 404n10, 417n53; authors sold to booksellers, 138–9, 253; Donaldson v. Becket establishes authors’ claim to, 253, 277, 296; and Lennox, 47, 224, 252–5, 277, 284, 296, 300, 337, 408n97. See also Camden, Charles Pratt, first Earl; subscription, publication by coquetry, 9, 12, 31, 69, 72, 92, 169–70, 193–4, 223; and the desire of pleasing, 170, 200; and female reputation, 9, 52;

 469

Lennox’s “The Art of Coquetry,” xvii, 52, 72–3, 75, 240, 242–3 Covent Garden Theatre, 229–30, 233, 236, 252, 408n2; contention between Colman and Garrick, 236. See also Colman, George; Garrick, David Cowley, Hannah, 233, 348; accused of plagiarism, 277 Cresswell, Thomas, 60 Critical Memoirs of the Times, 236, 238–9 Crown and Anchor Tavern, xxii, 341, 363 Cumberland, Richard, 409n26, 416n34; spite against Lennox, 235 Cumberland, William Augustus, Duke of, 42, 205 Cumins, Mrs (schoolmistress), 305 Dalhousie family, 24 Dante Alighieri, 128 Darwin, Erasmus, 349, 351, 353, 433n30, 433n33 d’Audiguier, Vital, 150 Defoe, Daniel: Robinson Crusoe, 58, 62 Dennis, John, 128, 354 Descartes, René, 11, 81, 99, 383 d’Estrées, Gabrielle. See Beaufort, Gabrielle d’Estrées, Duchess of de Tencin, Claudine Alexandrine Guérin, 151; Lennox translates the History of the Count de Comminge, 152 Deverell, Mary, 84 Dick, William (Captain), 28, 365n16, 366n33 Dissenters, 210, 320 Dodd, William, 110, 385n8, 423n58 Dodsley, James, 247–8, 253, 302, 308, 316, 337–8, 407n85; alteration of Eastward Ho, 259–60, 263. See also under booksellers and publishers

470 

Index

domestic sphere, 203, 253, 265–6, 282, 288, 295–6; and abuse, 140; independence from, 53, 158, 190–1; and the Lady’s Museum, 186, 189–90; relegation of women to, 11, 13, 102, 181, 190, 202, 287; and respect for female wisdom, 190; as site of potential revolution, 8, 319; women’s interest in, 174, 185; and women writers, 13, 55, 73. See also women: education of Dorset, Charles Sackville, sixth Earl of, 194, 400n82 double standard, the, 9, 13, 56, 200 Douce, Francis, 355 Drake, Judith, 12 Drury Lane Theatre, 44, 157, 232, 258–9, 263, 277 Dryden, John, 113, 116, 141, 239, 317 Duncombe, John, 140 Dutch colonists in North America, 26–31, 320–1, 327, 329, 334–5; allied with Iroquois, 323. See also Albany; Schenectady Edgeworth, Maria, 353 editorial personae. See eidolons Eger, Elizabeth, 278 Egerton, Sarah Fyge, 14, 48 eidolons, 185, 189, 193; Mrs Caroline Stanhope, Lady’s Magazine; or, Polite Companion for the Fair Sex, 179–82, 188, 191; Jasper Goodwill, Ladies’ Magazine, 188; Margery Minnikin, Independent Chronicle, 244; Mrs Mary Singleton, Old Maid, 187; Mrs Phoebe Crackenthorpe, Female Tatler, 191; The Trifler, 64, 170, 174, 183, 203. See also under Johnson, Samuel: Idler and Rambler; under Lennox, Charlotte, works: Lady’s Museum (The Trifler)

Eliza; Or the History of Miss Granville (anon.): character named “Charlotte Lenox,” 223 Elizabeth of Bohemia (queen), 346 Ellis, Markman, 154 empiricism, 324, 333 Enlightenment, the, 152, 154, 333; evidentiary rationality and, 99, 154; and how to know what is reasonable and good, 99; and Lennox, 5, 61, 278, 358; meritocracy in, 10, 267, 269, 272, 274–5, 278; and science, 349; and women, 194. See also meritocracy; Scottish Enlightenment Erasmus, Desiderius, 172 Essex Head Club, xxii, 283, 341 Euripides, 161, 394n101 Farmer, Richard, 130–1, 354 female friendship, 15, 18, 43, 50, 63, 76, 140, 167, 202, 208–9, 219, 223–4, 289–96, 312; in Lennox’s works, 31, 43, 46–8, 65, 94, 284, 319, 325–8, 330 female virtue, 32, 92, 104, 171, 176, 178, 182, 186, 191, 193–4, 326, 349; considered passive, 70, 170, 172–3, 175, 308, 334 Feminiad, The, 140 femininity, 55, 315, 350, 375n37; active and engaged, 8, 289; conventional (“proper”), 53, 76, 133, 219, 299, 347; eighteenth-century ideals of, 6, 44, 249; intelligent, 8, 70; passive, 70, 85; in writing style, 155, 185 feminism and proto-feminism, 153, 195, 197, 232, 308; Bluestocking, 18, 207; and Lennox, 4, 18, 53, 67–8, 151, 177, 203, 223; modern, 18. See also Bluestockings, the

Index Fénelon, François, 178, 189, 191, 198; Traité de l’éducation des filles, 181, 195, 197–9 Ferrers, Laurence Shirley, fourth Earl of, 177, 194 Fielding, Henry, 7, 16, 56–7, 60, 68, 87, 93, 132, 138, 140, 281, 354; Amelia, 76, 246; on female virtue, 175; Joseph Andrews, 7–8, 76, 89, 246; praises Lennox, 7, 105, 139; and romance, 89; sentimental love in, 89; Tom Jones, 7–8, 68–9, 75–6, 89, 92, 138 Fielding, Sarah, 16, 50, 58, 60, 238, 300; David Simple, 246 Finch, Anne, 46 Finch, Lady Isabella, xvii, 44, 49–50, 56, 65, 233, 296; and Duke of Newcastle, 38, 42, 56; Lennox charged with ingratitude to, 66; and Lennox’s Poems on Several Occasions, 46–8, 65–6, 154; as patron to young Lennox, xvii, 38–40, 43, 45, 48, 100, 148, 207, 296; and Princesses Amelia and Carolina, 38, 42. See also Rockingham, Marchioness of Fontenelle, Bernard Le Bovier de, 99–100, 383n69 Foote, Samuel, 232, 244 Forman, Charlotte, 206, 208 Fort Hunter, New York, 29 France: British cultural competition with, 348; education in, 172, 183, 195, 197, 285, 287, 331; English anti-French sentiment, 24, 131–2, 160, 248; colonists in North America, 320, 330–1; intrigues by women in, 198; national literature of, 128, 220, 246, 257; persecutes Protestants, 79, 294; religious and civil wars in, 143; romances, 81, 86, 90, 92, 102, 250, 331, 346; salon culture in, 151; Sorbonne, the, 294; superiority, sense of their own, 144, 257;

 471

and toleration, 294; translating French literature, 16, 54, 78–9, 110, 117, 129, 141, 150–3, 161–3, 179, 197, 257, 277–8, 357; translations of Lennox’s work, 77, 82, 254, 343; wars with England, 79, 160, 248, 257; women, 6, 153, 197–8, 249–50. See also Henry IV; La Vallière, Françoise Louise de La Baume Le Blanc; Louis XIV; Louis XVI; Maintenon, Françoise d’Aubigné; Montespan, Françoise Athénaïs de Rochechouart de Mortemart; Sully, Maximilien de Béthune Frankfurt, 237 Franklin, Benjamin, 55, 240, 412n63 French Revolution, 210, 275–6, 318, 413n79 gallantry, 32, 69, 91–2, 156, 230, 262–3, 266, 331 Garrick, David, 51, 117–18, 120, 126–8, 132, 201, 239, 281; and Johnson, 118, 377n74; and Lennox’s plays, 157–8, 162, 235–6, 256–60, 262–3, 296, 409n23; and Shakespeare, 117–18, 120, 126–8, 131, 157, 236, 355; and the Stratford Jubilee, 127; and women playwrights, 126, 157, 233 Garrick, Eva Maria (Veigel), 283 gender, 60, 67, 182, 185, 199, 347; challenging gender roles, 59, 79, 134, 156, 176, 182, 230; and the domestic sphere, 13, 102; female and male intellects equal, 171, 184; inequality, 16, 18, 326; Lennox and, 11, 16, 48, 67, 69, 74, 86, 89, 99, 109, 133, 156– 7, 176, 218, 269, 271, 320, 335, 345, 353, 354; and limitations on women, 11, 60, 235, 250; shifting attitudes about, 14, 246, 271; strict manners and, 104–5. See also double standard, the

472 

Index

Genest, John: History of the English Stage, 238 genius, 15, 95, 109–10, 166, 309; female, 5, 16, 82, 153, 164, 180, 182, 220, 291, 345; Lennox’s concept of, 109– 10, 113, 116–17, 123–4, 136, 252; in Lennox’s fictional characters, 71, 82, 222, 327; Lennox praised as, 5, 17, 36, 55, 61, 85–6, 105, 134, 136, 201–2, 206, 216, 220, 245, 283, 300, 336, 339, 343–5, 350, 355; national, 113, 129–30, 165–6, 355; pretenders to, 184, 271; and Shakespeare, 9, 109–10, 113, 116–17, 119, 121–5, 128, 131–2, 161, 355. See also Lennox, Charlotte, works: Shakespear Illustrated geography, 6, 248, 352. See also under Lennox, Charlotte, works: Lady’s Museum: “The Lady’s Geography” George I (king), 24 George II (king), 210 George III (king), 5, 73, 157, 162, 165– 6, 177, 205, 210–11, 213, 233, 255, 265, 275, 278, 343; satirized, 239, 241. See also Wales, George William Frederick, Prince of Gibbon, Edward, 338 Gibraltar, xvii, 5, 23–4, 33, 38 Giraldi, Cintho, 116–17 Glover, Richard, 220 Godolphin, Lady Harriet. See Newcastle, Duchess of Goldsmith, Oliver, 139, 155–6, 183–4, 188, 246, 338, 410n33; clashes with Lennox, 183; and Lennox’s The Sister, 230, 236, 238 Gottsched, Johann Christoph, 297–8 Gottsched, Louise, 160 Grafton, Augustus FitzRoy, Duke of (prime minister), 239

Grainger, James, 162, 281, 407n23; and Greek Theatre, 162, 220, 394n101 Gray, Mr (Millar’s reader), 87 Gray, Thomas, 140 Greece, 128, 245; Greek drama, 5–6, 160; See also Aristotle; Lennox, Charlotte, works: The Greek Theatre; Plato Gregory, John, 12 Greville, Frances, 245 Griffin, Dustin, 255 Griffith, Elizabeth, xviii, 245–6, 409n13; and Garrick, 233; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278; Platonic Wife, The, 229 Griffiths, Ralph, 378n91; reviews Harriot Stuart, 75. See also newspapers and magazines: Monthly Review Grub Street and hack writing, 10, 73, 260 Grundy, Isobel, 84, 381n11 Guarani, Giovanni Battista: Il Pastor Fido, 156, 328; translated by Elizabeth Singer Rowe, 329. See also under Lennox, Charlotte, works: Philander Gubar, Susan, 59 Guest, Harriet, 14 Guillot de la Chassagne, Ignace-Vincent, 150 Guthrie, William, 110 Gwyn, Mary, 338–9 Hamburg, 130, 237, 410n43, 420n132 Hamilton, Alexander (Dr), 28 Hamilton, Elizabeth, 346, 353 Hancock, Nicholas, 305 Hanmer, Sir Thomas, 113, 121, 354 Hanover, 237 Harding, Silvester and Edward, 354 Hardinge, George, 355

Index Harley, Lady Henrietta, 284 Harrison’s Bookshop, 317 Harte, Walter, 161–2, 202 Hawkins, Sir John, 72, 74, 76, 85, 122 Hawkins, Laetitia Matilda, 76, 202 Haymarket Theatre. See Little Haymarket Theatre Hays, Mary, 336–7, 428n101 Haywood, Eliza, 7, 14, 58–9, 238; amatory novels, 59; Dalinda, 59–60; didacticism of, 59–60; Female Spectator, 174, 186–8, 191, 400n66; History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless, 59–60, 369n12; Love in Excess, 58; the Parrot, 186; personal reputation of, 59–60; and women’s learning, 175, 186 Hazen, Allen T., 83, 429n12 Henry IV (king of France), 78–9, 138, 143, 178, 248, 357–8. See also Ravaillac, François Hertford, Frances (Thynne) Seymour, Countess of, 154 Historica Danica, 112 history. See women’s place in history; women’s study of history History of Indiana Danby, The, 223 History of the Marquis of Lussan and Isabella, The. See under Lennox, Charlotte, works: Memoirs of the Countess of Berci History of Pamela Howard, The, 223 Hobbes, Thomas, 99 Hogarth, William, 259, 263 Holinshed’s Chronicles, 112, 125, 131 Hollinghurst, Alan, 257 Homer, 64–5, 131, 160 Hope, John, 351 Horace, 242 Hubbard, Mrs (seamstress), 288

 473

Huguenots, 143 Hume, David, 99, 338 Hunter, Robert, 29 Hunter, William, 255 Hurd, Richard, 110 Huron nation, 29, 320–1, 325, 330–1, 333, 335, 372n53 Hutcheson, Francis, 46–7, 103, 179; Lennox in dialogue with, 99–104, 109; moral sense felt before rationally understood, 103 Hutchinson, Lucy, 172 imperialism, 93, 242, 325, 336; British Empire, 23–4, 31, 128, 143, 179, 210–11, 220, 240, 320–3, 366n25; gendered male, 329; Incan Empire, 294, 332; Mogul Empire, 179; imagining a non-empire, 266; Ottoman Empire, 257; Roman Empire, 338 Inchbald, Elizabeth, 232 India, 179, 210, 242, 247, 267, 286, 292 Ingram, Anne. See Irwin, Anne Ingram, Viscountess interiority, 7, 266 Ireland, 24–5, 166, 255; anti-Irish prejudice in England, 25, 201; Dublin editions and piracies, 77, 79, 82, 152, 158, 203, 237, 339; Dublin theatre, 277; and Lennox’s ancestry, 5, 24–5, 39, 64, 240; in Lennox’s fiction, 63–4; other Irish connections, 46, 158, 201, 210, 240, 277 Iroquois nation, 30, 320; allied with Dutch, 323; Iroquois League of Nations, 328 Irwin, Anne Ingram, Viscountess, 242 Isles, Duncan, 18, 362n54, 363n58 Italia, Iona, 190

474  Italy, 128, 323; Italian language, 35, 110, 114, 132, 137, 213, 301; Italian literature, 9, 110, 112, 114, 117, 125–6, 129–30, 132, 179. See also Ariosto, Ludovico; Baretti, Giuseppe; Dante Alighieri Jacobitism, 42, 60, 211. See also Stuart, Charles Edward Jacson, Maria, 349–50 Jamaica, 30, 36, 55 Jesuits, 321, 325, 330–2, 335 Joan of Arc, 9, 177, 179, 215 Johnson, Elizabeth “Tetty,” 74, 83, 113 Johnson, Joseph, 278 Johnson, Samuel, plate 4, 6, 49, 55, 59, 65, 72, 132, 141, 144, 166, 202, 208, 215, 299, 302, 305, 307, 316, 338, 344; circle of, 73, 220, 338; criticizes demeaning of women, 13; and the Devil’s Tavern celebration, 74, 85, 93; and female authors, 83, 218–19; financial difficulties of, 146, 339; fondness for romances, 90; and the Gentleman’s Magazine, 4, 149; “Johnsonese,” 95; influenced by Lennox, 19, 83, 90, 106, 127, 135; and Lennox’s The Female Quixote, 82–5, 88, 90, 93–7, 105, 109; and Lennox’s Greek Theatre, 157, 166; and Lennox’s Harriot Stuart, 55, 64, 73–4; and Lennox’s Original Works by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, 245–6, 276–7, 314–15; and Lennox’s Shakespear Illustrated, 89, 112–13, 117–18, 132, 297; and Lennox’s The Sister, 235; and Lennox’s translations, 149–50; and misogyny, 84; preoccupation with life choices, 92; relationship with Lennox, 4–6, 11, 82–6, 95–9, 113–16, 245,

Index 254–6, 281–5, 289, 295–6, 300–1, 350; and religious belief, 283–4; and Shakespeare, 113, 118–19, 127; and translation, 149 Johnson, Samuel, works: Dictionary of the English Language, The, 4, 56, 74, 113, 119–20, 135, 162, 183, 193, 211, 297; “The Fountains,” 218–19; Idler, 124, 177, 188, 193; Life of Savage, 73; “London,” 73; Plays of William Shakespeare, The, 120–2, 127–8, 131, 354; Rasselas, 93, 105–6, 202, 218; Vanity of Human Wishes, The, 73; Visions of Theodore the Hermit of Teneriffe, 90–1 –  Rambler, 82, 89, 91, 92, 188; charity, good humour, and idleness in, 92; and Don Quixote, 93–4; on double standard, 13; necessity of moral characters in fiction, 92; on the novel and romance, 74, 92–4; parallels with Female Quixote, 93–4; on parental tyranny, 93 –  See also Boswell, James; Carter, Elizabeth Jones, Mary, 109, 134–5, 140, 208, 371n41 Jonson, Ben, 96, 113, 121, 259, 261–3, 265, 274. See also Lennox, Charlotte, works: Eastward Ho Kauffman, Angelica: and the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, xviii, 278 Kelly, Hugh, 203; assisted with Lady’s Museum, 178, 398n30 Kent, William, 38 Killigrew, Anne, 14 Kimber, Edward, 67 King, Thomas, 157 Knox, Vicesimus, 287, 310

Index La Beaumelle, Laurent Angliviel de, 153, 156 La Fayette, Marie-Madeleine Pioche de La Vergne, comtesse de, 151 Langbaine, Gerald, 113, 116–17 Langford, Paul, 266 Langton, Bennet, plate 10, 83, 299, 339–40 Langton, Mary, 299 Lauder, William, 118, 236 La Vallière, Françoise Louise de La Baume Le Blanc, duchesse de, 247–50. See also Lennox, Charlotte, works: Meditations and Penitential Prayers Leapor, Mary, 47, 401n93 learned woman, 83, 140, 176, 180, 182, 332; Lennox as, 78–80, 110, 114, 118, 130, 132, 149–50, 160–1, 164–5, 178, 358; prejudices against, 12, 33, 232, 287, 310, 326 L’Écluse des Loges, Pierre-Mathurin de, 143, 380n111 Lennox, Alexander (husband), 3, 10–11, 57, 64, 114, 119, 145, 206, 211–12, 256, 284–5, 300–3, 314; as amanuensis, 147, 213; control of wife’s publications, 55, 146, 247, 253; courtship and marriage, 49–50; death or disappearance of, 302–4; Customs and Excise positions, 212–13, 221–2, 225, 245, 253, 276, 284, 300, 302, 405n35; financial difficulties of, 51, 87, 109, 145–7, 207, 219, 225, 300–1, 336–9; petitions for earldom, 225, 302–3; as tyrannical husband, 285–7; works for Strahan, 49–50, 55, 140, 213 Lennox, Charlotte, xx, xxi; acting career, xvii, 44, 51, 256, 335; in Albany, 25–6, 28–33; as American, 67, 297–8, 344; arrives in London (1741), 4–5,

 475 10, 37; associated with Clio, 8, 46, 78, 133, 318; and Baretti, 114, 133–4, 148; and the Bluestockings, 15, 150, 153, 219, 279; biographies of, 317, 342, 344, 355–6; birth and childhood, xvii, 5, 23–32; and copyright, 47, 224, 252–5, 276–7, 282, 284, 295–6, 300, 337, 404n10, 408n97; correspondence of, 18, 65; cosmopolitanism of, 15; and crosscultural differences, 31; death of, xix, 342; and dedicating her works, 47, 56, 65–6, 143, 148, 153–5, 157–8, 165, 167, 209–11, 213–14, 233, 237, 255, 315, 338; dedication by Johnson, 118–23, 125; disavows authorship of the Old Maid, 179–80; early education of, 34–7, 40; as the English Sappho, 36, 51, 317; and ethics, 54, 79, 141, 295; explores gender, 16, 18, 67; fading of popularity, 343; on family and state expectations, 320 (see also domestic sphere; marriage); and female education, 171, 174–6, 178, 181, 191–7, 285, 353; and female friendship, 135, 209, 289–92, 296, 328; and feminism, 4, 18, 53, 67, 177, 203, 223; financial difficulties of, 137–40, 144–6, 149, 157–8, 185, 225, 249, 254, 259, 295, 301–3, 319, 336–41, 358; free of scandal, 144, 353; and Garrick, 51, 117–18, 120, 126–8, 157–8, 162, 233; genius of, 5, 17, 36, 55, 61, 85–6, 105, 134, 136, 201–2, 206, 216, 220, 283, 301, 315, 344; in Gibraltar, 5, 23–4; as governess, 201–2, 206; illness of, 109, 200–1, 206, 247, 282, 319, 340–1; independent spirit of, 5, 7, 9, 13, 38, 42, 44–5, 47–8, 151, 159, 214,

476 

Index

225, 249–50, 253–6, 276, 281, 338, 347, 358; influence on other writers, 19, 90, 164; and Johnson, 4–6, 11, 19, 56, 90, 117, 133–4, 146, 281–5, 289, 291, 295, 297, 314; in Johnson’s Dictionary, 135–6; as learned author, 114, 149; and literary history, 6–7, 13, 17, 51, 75, 81, 260, 263, 317–18, 358 (see also literary canon); love of study, 11, 40, 64–5; marriage to Alexander Lennox, xvii, 50–1, 54–5, 57, 284, 299; “Memoirs of Mrs. Lenox,” 17, 77, 362n52; mother figures in, 222; mother, relationship with, 33–4, 53, 222, 224, 304; and religious belief, 283, 294, 307, 332–3; on the nature of genius, 109–10, 113; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278–80; outsider status of, 5, 10, 79, 112, 358; and patronage, xvii, 15, 42, 44–5, 47, 49–51, 137–8, 140, 154, 158, 165–6, 170, 207, 209–10, 212, 221, 225, 233, 284, 289, 291, 298, 316, 319; and politics, 54, 79, 141, 209–13; portrait (and engraving) of, xviii, xx, 205–6, 217, 245, 254, 336, 355, 403n3; professionalism of, 5–6, 15, 53, 56–7, 61; quixotism of, 99, 117, 133–4; on reason vs passion, 82, 99; and Richardson, 3–4, 50, 56, 86–8, 95–6, 105, 109, 281; Royal Literary Fund pension, xix, 6, 17, 167, 302, 311, 337, 339–41, 363n58; and satire, 7–8, 16, 32–3, 93, 159, 231, 263, 318, 346; at Somerset House, 225, 233, 245; and stoicism, 15, 47, 100, 293; strategic agency of female characters, 61–2, 68; as social critic, 6, 8, 10, 16, 43, 71; and stereotypes of women writers, 18; as theatre critic, 9; theme of blameless,

isolated young woman, 43; translations of, 254; as translator, 137–8, 140–1, 149–50, 343; use of humour for higher purposes, 16; and vagaries of literary market, 7; and the Voice of the People, 148, 243; wisdom of, 173, 176, 194, 221, 318 Lennox, Charlotte, and history, 54, 67, 78–9, 113, 119, 133, 141–4, 148, 166, 215, 220, 346, 357–8; vs fiction, 102, 104; in Shakespeare, 110, 126, 128, 131, 354–5 Lennox, Charlotte, income from writing, 6, 50, 76–7, 137, 141, 154–6, 159, 247, 251, 253, 276–7, 286, 291, 301, 316, 322, 339; and pension, 148, 211; and risk taking, 6; strategies for, 44, 57, 61, 86–7, 145–50, 156, 160, 185, 229, 231; and vagaries of literary market, 6, 206, 304, 339. See also under Lennox, Charlotte: and copyright; financial difficulties of Lennox, Charlotte, independence of mind, 5–6, 13, 44, 84–5, 105, 127, 132, 134; and marriage, 53, 63; and patronage, 13, 38, 42, 45, 47–9 Lennox, Charlotte, works: –  Age of Queen Elizabeth (unpublished), 161 –  Bajazet (trans.), 257–9 –  Eastward Ho, 10, 96, 259–70, 416n43; by Jonson, Chapman, and Marston, 259; title changed to Old City Manners, 261–2 –  Euphemia, xix, 7, 34–5, 43, 284–5, 295, 316, 318–35, 345; autobiographical elements of, 28–9, 39, 305–6, 316, 330; domestic subordination vs domination, 321; Dutch-British relations in, 31, 327; education in, 331–2; friendship in,

Index 327–8, 340; and marriage, 319–21; meritocracy vs privilege, 335; North American setting of, 25–6, 28–9, 31, 318, 320–2, 328; openness to Native American culture, 328–34; political dimensions of, 320, 322, 329–30, 335; problems of British colonialism, 329–30, 333; reception of, 335–6; selfishness in, 327–8; transatlantic doubleness of, 321 –  Female Quixote, The, xvii, 16–19, 81, 93–106, 109, 118–19, 136, 140, 142, 150, 155, 160, 180, 215, 230, 254, 261, 289; abridgment in The British Novelist: Or, Virtue and Vice in Miniature, 246–7; in Barbauld’s British Novelists, 346; critique of romances, 81, 86, 153; and current epistemologies, 82, 99; first draft of, 3–4; illustrated edition of, 245, 316, 329; Johnson’s influence in, 82–5, 93, 95–7; as metafiction, 82; moral objections to, 87–8; moral sense and judgment in, 100; publication history, 82, 84, 86, 140, 144, 245–6, 254, 316, 354; on reason and morality, 99; reception of, 7–8, 105, 180, 189, 335, 347, 353–4; tagline “by the author of,” 112, 149, 171, 224, 277; theory that Johnson wrote parts of, 95; translations of, 160, 354. See also Cervantes, Miguel de; Richardson, Samuel; romance, the –  Greek Theatre of Father Brumoy, The, xviii, 9, 138, 160–7, 208, 262; contributors to, 161–2; dedicated to Prince of Wales, 165; Lennox’s translations, 162–3; reception of, 163–6, 337, 346, 350 –  Harriot Stuart, xvii, 7, 30, 34, 40, 43, 54–5, 58, 62–76, 82, 91, 100, 140,

 477

210, 215; autobiographical elements of, 26, 28–30, 36, 63–4, 66, 71, 92; compared to Clarissa, 68–9, 74; female friendship in, 65; and the impartial spectator, 103; independence of heroine, 65, 67–8, 70, 72; influence of, 78, 347; intelligence of heroine, 70, 72, 347; and patriarchy, 68; and the picaresque, 69; publication history of, 72–3, 77, 87, 245; and relativity of truth, 102; reception of, 74–7, 318, 347; and romances, 91–2; setting in British North America, 25–6, 29–31, 62, 67, 92, 319; and social hierarchy, 68; and traditional femininity, 55; translations of, 77. See also booksellers and publishers –  Henrietta, xviii, 7, 43, 45, 147, 153, 158–9, 161, 215, 237, 296, 345; in Barbauld’s British Novelists, 346; as bildungsroman, 158; publishing history of, 213–14, 252–3; reception of, 189, 335; second edition title page, Lennox’s name on, 214 –  History of Eliza, xviii, 222–5, 247, 254; dialogue with Eliza; Or the History of Miss Granville, 223–4; and healthy marriage, 223–4; lost investment, 225 –  History of England (trans.), 215 –  History of the Count de Comminge, The (trans.): head vs heart, 151 –  History of the Marquis of Lussan and Isabella (trans.), xviii –  Lady’s Museum, xviii, 9, 29, 33, 100, 152, 168–203, 284; Ariosto translation in, 116, 178; Boudier de Villemert, Pierre-Joseph, 178; and editor of Lady’s Magazine, 180–1; civic humanism in, 191, 193; eidolon “the Trifler,” 64, 170–1, 174, 177, 183, 188–9,

478  191–4, 203, 222, 398n30, 400n76, 400n80; ethnography, 179–81; female education, course of, 171, 174–6, 178, 181, 191–7; on female intelligence, 190–8; on female self-effacement, 175; on female virtue, 173, 175, 193; the female voice in, 185, 190; Fénelon, François, 178, 189, 191, 195, 197–9; History of Harriot and Sophia, The, 178; illustrations in, 177, 190, 192, 196, 203; influence of, 248; “The Lady’s Geography,” 177, 179, 195, 198–9, 220, 352; musical scores in, 177; original title Female Magazine; or Lady’s Polite Companion, 187; poetry in, 178; practical wisdom in, 173, 176, 191, 194, 204, 212; publishing history, 188; range of topics in, 176–7; reception of, 201–3; satirizes patronizing males, 168–9; scientific knowledge in, 352; on Shakespeare, 127, 176–7, 179, 194; social benefits of learning, 173, 175, 177, 190 –  Meditations and Penitential Prayers (trans.), xviii, 247–51, 304; and female heroes, 249; forgiveness and sympathy for victims, 251. See also La Vallière, Françoise Louise, duchesse de –  Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon and of the Last Age (trans.), xviii, 153–6; reception of, 155–6. See also La Beaumelle, Laurent Angliviel de –  Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully, The (trans.), xvii–xviii, 10, 54, 78–80, 96, 141–50, 155, 160, 178, 211, 278, 379n109; dedicated to Duke of Newcastle, 143, 148; Grotius Society edition, 357; and political wisdom, 138, 141; publication history, 144, 149, 275, 277, 282, 295–6, 344,

Index 357–8; reception of, 149–50, 166, 189, 336–7, 346, 353, 357–8; tagline “by the ingenious translator of,” 149; “The Trial of Ravaillac,” 143, 148; University Library of Autobiography, 357. See also Henry IV (king); Ravaillac, François –  Memoirs of the Countess of Berci, The, xvii, 146, 150–3, 215; reception of, 150, 153; sources of, 150. See also d’Audiguier, Vital; Guillot de la Chassagne, Ignace-Vincent –  Memoirs of the Count de Cominge, The (trans.), xviii; publication history of, 151–2; reprinted in Lady’s Museum, 152 –  Old City Manners, xviii, 260–72, 281, 296, 304, 316; Eastward Ho renamed, 261; first performance of, 263–4, 274; meritocratic theme in, 10, 267, 269, 272, 274–5, 278; reception of, 274–5; satire in, 263, 265, 271; self-interest vs responsibility, 273; social and political concerns in, 260, 267–8, 272–3 –  Original Works of Charlotte Lennox, The, 254–6, 276, 294, 315, 415n14; Johnson’s support for, 245–6, 276–7, 314–16 –  Philander, A Dramatic Opera, xviii, 153, 156–9, 163, 231, 232, 252, 254, 256, 339; adaptation of Guarini’s Il Pastor Fido, 156, 329; dedicated to Viscount Charlemont, 158; and publication by subscription, 339; reception of, 157–8; reversal of gender roles in, 156 –  poems (individual) by Lennox: “Art of Coquetry, The,” xvii, 52, 72, 75, 240, 242; “Asculapius, Flora, Ceres and Cupid Honouring the Bust of Linneaus,” 350; “The Dream, an Ode by Miss Ramsey,” 40; “Envy. A

Index Satire,” 32–3, 46; in poetry section of Gentleman’s Magazine, 51–2; “On Henrietta Holles Lennox 17,” 306; “Language of the Eyes, The,” 47–8; poems reprinted in The Muse’s Mirror, 316; “An Ode,” 178; “Ode on the Birthday of Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, An,” xvii, 52, 73; “On Reading a Poem Written by a Lady of Quality,” 178; “On Reading Hutchinson on the Passions,” 99–101; “Sappho,” 32; “Shallum to Hilpah, An Epistle,” 90; “A Song, in Philander, a Dramatic Pastoral,” 178; “To Death. An Irregular Ode,” 178 –  Poems on Several Occasions, xvii, 45–6, 82, 100, 139–40; appreciation for, 51–2; dedicated to Lady Isabella Finch, 47, 65; female friendship in, 46–7; female independence in, 47, 51; and Gentleman’s Magazine, 72; marketing of, 48–9, 72; and publication by subscription, 72, 100, 138, 140; women’s agency in courtship in, 46. See also Paterson, Samuel –  Shakespear Illustrated, xvii, 9–10, 39, 89, 110–20, 111, 126, 140, 147, 150, 215, 254, 261, 297–8; Ariosto, 112, 114, 116, 118, 178, 355; Cymbeline, 356; Garrick objects to, 118; Hamlet, 112, 117, 122, 130; Johnson’s dedication for, 118–19, 123–4; cited in Johnson’s Dictionary, 120, 135–6, 297; and Johnson’s Plays of Shakespeare, 121–5; Macbeth, 126–7; Measure for Measure, 125, 355; Much Ado about Nothing, 114–16, 355; publication history, 142, 254, 297, 338–9, 356; reception of, 117, 128–32, 134, 160, 189, 236, 298, 346, 353–7; Richard

 479

II, 125; Romeo and Juliet, 117, 125, 129; Shakespeare’s genius, 110, 113, 119, 122–3, 128, 261; Shakespeare’s “poverty of invention,” 116–17, 122, 132; translations of, 160; Troilus and Cressida, 112, 131; Winter’s Tale, 125, 356–7 –  Sister, The, 229–35, 254; adapted from Henrietta, 229; epilogue by Goldsmith, 230, 236, 238; failed on stage, 229–30, 252, 256, 258; foreign publication and performance, 237; prologue by Colman, 230–1, 238; publication of, 233–5; reception of, 232–9; subsequent editions, 237–8, 337; Was seyn soll, schickt sich wohl, 237 –  Sophia, xviii, 7, 34, 43, 214, 254, 293; reception of, 214–15; title page, Lennox’s name on, 214. See also under Lennox, Charlotte, works: Lady’s Museum: “History of Harriot and Sophia” –  See also Finch, Lady Mary; poems to Lennox; Rockingham, Marchioness of Lennox, Donald, 225 Lennox, Duncan, Earl of, 225 Lennox, George Louis (son), xviii, 17, 284, 304, 307–12, 342; Annette: A Fairy Tale, 309; birth of, 244–5; criminal activities of, 311–12, 337; education of, 287, 307, 310; “Elegy, in Imitation of Shenstone, on Mrs. Yates,” xviii, 308; emigrates to United States, xix, 312; publications of, xviii, xix, 308–10; questions of authorship, 309, 316; “Verses to a Young Married Lady, Who Regretted the Want of Children,” 310 Lennox, Henrietta “Harriet” Holles (daughter), 225, 233, 245, 295, 304–9;

480  birth of, xxii, 221; death of, xviii, xix, 305–7, 312, 316; education of, 284–9, 305; “On the Death of Miss Henrietta Hollis Lennox, Daughter of the Celebrated Mrs. C. Lennox,” 306–7, 337. See also Thornton, Sylvia Brathwaite Leprince de Beaumont, Jeanne-Marie, 186, 399n61 Lesage, Alain-René, 246 Leveson-Gower, Lady Susanna, 233 libertinism, 223, 244 liberty, 14, 166, 239–40, 266, 318, 320; female, 156, 223, 242, 324; in North America, 48; of reflection, 69; spirit of, 139; and Wilkes, 240, 244 Licensing Act (1737), 140 Lindsay, [British officer at Albany], 29 Linnaeus, Carolus (Carl von Linné), plate 11, 347–8, 351–2, 432n22 literary canon, 17–18, 59, 105, 121, 131, 246–7, 316, 336–7 literary interconnections, networks, and circles, 6–7, 50, 53, 207–8, 281, 338, 356, 385n9. See also Bluestockings, the Little Haymarket Theatre, 51 Locke, John, 12, 99, 320, 400n65; on education, 188 Louis XIV (king), 153, 156, 247, 249–50, 257–8 Louis XVI (king), 248 Lucking, Mrs (of Messing Hall, Essex), 37–8, 44, 64 Lumley family, 24 Lyttelton, George, 12; Elizabeth Montagu’s works attributed to, 176 Macaulay, Catharine, plate 6, xviii, 232, 243, 265; History of England from the Accession of James I to that of the

Index Brunswick Line, The, 215; literary and political circle of, 215–17, 265, 281, 289; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278; politically motivated criticism of, 221; satirized by Foote, 232; and Wilkes, 217. See also Sawbridge, John Macklin, Charles, 157 Magdalen House, 201 Makin, Bathsua, 12, 172 Maintenon, Françoise d’Aubigné, Marquise de, xviii, 153–5, 171, 178, 247–8; and education for girls, 181; Letters of Madame de Maintenon, The, 154; Memoirs for the History of Madame de Maintenon, 153–6, 158–9 Malone, Edmund, 130–1, 354–5 Mandeville, Bernard, 200 Manley, Delarivier, 14, 58, 186, 371n48, 374nn10–11, 399n58 Manucci, Niccolao, 179 Marie de Medici, 143 Marlborough, John Churchill, first Duke of, 289 Marlborough, Sarah (Jennings) Churchill, Duchess of, 289 Marmontel, Jean-François, 294, 332, 422n37 marriage, 7, 11–12, 55, 68, 151, 291, 347; advice on, 185, 189; clandestine, 50, 33n64; coercion into, 68, 151; companionate, 104–5, 156–7, 324; demand for obedience, 324; dynastic, 207; equality in, 48, 320, 324; and female independence, 8, 223, 324; and female submissiveness, 7, 12, 223, 291; in Lennox’s fiction, 7, 68, 104, 223–4, 231, 319, 321–5, 335; loveless and unhappy, 7, 151–2, 294, 321, 324, 326; the marriage market and

Index marriageability, 37–8, 48, 265; and the marriage plot, 8, 105, 236; property and coverture, 11, 57; resisting idealization of, 8; reward of good marriage, 159, 222–4. See also domestic sphere, the Marston, John. See Lennox, Charlotte, works: Eastward Ho Martin, Benjamin, 184–5 Martins, Mrs (creditor), 303 Mason, William, 110 Masters, Mary, 140, 389n6 Maynadier, Gustavus, 17, 67, 365n23 McCarthy, Charlotte, 58 Medici, Francesco de, 248 Medici, Marie de, 143 Menorca, 24 Merian, Maria Sibylla, 171 merit: vs privilege, 260, 263, 269, 274–5, 332, 335; meritocracy, 10, 267, 269, 272, 278 Mesick, J.L., 48 Milton, John, 117–18, 124, 236, 387n66 Mohawk nation, 29–30, 320–1, 328–30, 333–4 Montagu, Elizabeth, xviii, 13, 15, 56, 84, 118, 175, 207–8, 215, 245, 283, 285; and anonymous publication, 176; circle of, 56, 150, 154, 176, 207–8, 215; Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakespeare, 161; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278–80; on women’s education, 248; works of attributed to George Lyttelton, 176. See also Bluestockings, the Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, 12–13, 52, 239, 242, 275, 347; and anonymous publication, 176; calls Lennox ungrateful, 66; and Harriot Stuart, 66, 76; and The New Foundling

 481

Hospital for Wit, 239, 242–3; Nonsense of Common Sense, 186 Montespan, Françoise Athénaïs de Rochechouart de Mortemart, marquise de, 249 Montgomery, James, 317 Moore, Edward, 12 More, Hannah, xviii, xxii, 56, 84, 209, 245, 283, 344; and Garrick, 233; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278; Search after Happiness, The, 326 More, Mary, 172 More, Thomas, 172 Mortimer, Thomas, 220 Moscow, 237, 343 Motooka, Wendy, 93, 104 Munich, 237 Murphy, Arthur, 110, 213, 277 Murray, Catherine, 233 Murray, James, 233, 303–4, 339 Muse’s Mirror, The, 316 Musgrave, William, 222 Native Americans, 28–30, 294–5, 323; and equality in marriage, 48, 300, 372n53; Five Nations, 29–30; in Lennox’s novels, 30, 63, 320, 324–5; positive qualities of, 331–3. See also Huron nation; imperialism; Iroquois nation; Mohawk nation Newcastle, John Holles, first Duke of, 284 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Henrietta (Godolphin) Pelham-Holles, Duchess of, 143–4, 167, 213–14, 221, 286, 289, 305, 340; as godmother of Henrietta Holles Lennox, 221, 305; Lennox dedicates Henrietta to, 213–14; as Lennox’s patron, 40, 143, 154, 211,

482  233, 281, 340; and Lennox’s pension, 211 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Thomas PelhamHolles, first Duke of, plate 7, 25, 40, 41, 143, 154, 167, 209–12, 221–2, 231, 233, 284, 305; circle of, 209–10; and Finch, Lady Isabella, 38, 40, 42; Lennox dedicates Sully to, 143, 148, 211; and Lennox’s pension, 211; promotes Alexander Lennox, 214, 302; and Ramsay, James, 25, 30 New England, 25, 29, 36, 55 New Foundling Hospital for Wit, xxii, 239–44; frontispiece of, 239, 241; and Lennox, 239–44; and Wilkes, 239–40. See also Almon, John newspapers, magazines, and essay series: Adventurer, 129; Auditor, 213; Boston Centinel, 307; British Magazine and Review, xix, 77, 307–9, 319; British Magazine, or Monthly Repository of Gentlemen and Ladies, 184; Briton, 213; Court Magazine, 184, 203; Critical Review, 154, 163, 165, 173, 236; Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 215–18, 222, 239; General Advertiser, 73; General Magazine, 184; Edinburgh Weekly Magazine, xix, 17, 308–9; Examiner, 186; Female Spectator, 174, 186, 191, 400n66; Female Tatler, 59, 191, 399n58; Gentleman’s Magazine, xvii, 4, 17, 45, 51–2, 72–5, 83, 129–30, 149, 163, 173, 237, 298, 344, 354–5, 377n74, 377n77, 381n12, 382n50; Gleaner, xix; Guardian, 193; Hibernian, xix; Idler, 124, 177, 188, 193; Independent Chronicle, 244; Journal Britannique, 130; Journal Étranger, 128, 388n80; Ladies Friend, Being a Museum for

Index the Fair-Sex, 203; Ladies’ Magazine, 188; Ladies New and Polite Pocket Memorandum, 278–9; Lady’s Curiosity, 182; Lady’s Monthly Museum, 85, 353; Lady’s Museum, 9, 29, 33, 64, 91, 100–1, 116, 126–7, 152, 168–83, 186–216, 192, 196, 220, 248, 253, 284, 352, 397n17, 398nn30–1 (see also under Lennox, Charlotte, works); Lloyd’s Evening Post, 184; London Chronicle, 130, 171; London Evening Post, 73; Midwife, 206; Monthly Mirror, 342; Monthly Repository of Gentlemen and Ladies, 184; Monthly Review, 74–5, 128–30, 149–50, 162, 173, 236, 245, 378n91; Museum, 188; New Foundling Hospital for Wit, 239–44; New Lady’s Magazine, 203, 317; New Novelists’ Magazine, xix, 152, 308; Nonsense of Common Sense, 186, 397n21; North Briton, 213, 240; Old Maid, 84, 88, 179, 186–7; Parrot, 186; Public Advertiser, 220, 272–3; Public Ledger, 171, 189; Rambler, 13, 74, 82, 89–95, 188, 382n50; Royal Female Magazine, 185; Spectator, 91, 173, 176, 397n21; St. James’s Chronicle, 236; Tatler, 193; Tatler Revived, or the Christian Philosopher, 59; Washington Whig, 307; Weekly Entertainer, xix; Whitehall Evening Post, 17, 73 171; Wit’s Magazine; or, Library of Momus, xix; World and Fashionable Advertiser, xix; Young Lady, 186; Young Lady’s Magazine, 187; Young Misses Magazine, 186 –  Lady’s Magazine; or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex, 118–19, 203; Hugh Kelly’s “Trifler” essay in, 203

Index –  Lady’s Magazine; or, Polite Companion for the Fair Sex, 179–82, 188; editorial persona Mrs Caroline Stanhope, 179, 185, 188, 191; as model for Lennox’s Lady’s Museum, 179–81 –  See also Lennox, Charlotte, works: Lady’s Museum; periodicals New York (city), plate 1, 26, 28–9, 31–2, 64; female education in, 35; Lennox’s satire on, 32–3; love and gallantry in, 32, 46, 91 New York (colony), 25–6, 28, 38, 100, 222; in Euphemia, 318, 322, 327, 330, 344; governors of (see Clarke, George; Clinton, George; Hunter, Robert); in Harriot Stuart, 62–4; military officers and commerce, 28–9. See also Albany; Fort Hunter; Ramsay, James; Schenectady Nichol, Don, 405n30, 412n71, 413n80 Nicholl, Andrew, 28 Nichols, John, 339; Literary Anecdotes, 17, 342, 344 Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, The. See Samuel, Richard Nollekens, Joseph, 202, 363n58 Nonsense Club, the, 240. See also Churchill, Charles; Colman, George; Thornton, Bonnell North, Frederick North, Lord, 252 Northumberland, Elizabeth (Seymour) Percy, Countess of, 154, 210 Northumberland, Hugh Percy, first Duke of, 154 novel, the: amatory, 59, 61, 319; attempts to represent real life, 55, 61; author’s and readers’ imagination, 102; criteria for “good novel” debated, 75; danger of imaginative susceptibility, 89, 199; epistolary, 321; exotic settings, 62;

 483 imagining society as it could be, 7, 62; and immorality, 56–7, 59; Johnson on the new realistic novel, 74–5; and moral influence on readers, 75; passive femininity in, 70; picaresque, 7, 69, 246; plights of young women in, 7, 59, 61; quixotic, 99; reveals author’s experiences, 62; vs romance, 81, 91, 346; translated, 141. See also anti-romance

Ogg, David, 357–8 Onion, The, 239 Opie, John, plate 11, 350–1 Orrery, John Boyle, fifth Earl of Cork and, 82–4, 88–9, 388n76; and Brooke’s Old Maid, 84; and Lennox’s Greek Theatre, 162, 262–3, 394n101; and Lennox’s Shakespeare Illustrated, 109, 112, 404n24 Ottoman Empire, the: and Wortley Montagu, Lady Mary, 52, 176; Racine’s Bajazet and, 257 Otway, Thomas, 157 Ovid, 141, 348 Oxford University, 129, 134, 136, 255, 297 Paine, Thomas, 267, 402n125 Paradise, Mr (in Lennox’s circle), 202 parental tyranny, 63, 67–8, 93, 151–2 Paris, 63, 77, 276, 294, 388n80 pastoral: verse, 45, 158, 178, 220; dramatic, xvii, 153, 156, 158. See also Lennox, Charlotte, works: Philander Paterson, Samuel. See under booksellers and publishers patriarchy, 68, 72, 320 patronage, xviii, 76, 84, 87, 138, 154–5, 165, 176, 201, 207, 214, 344, 348;

484 

Index

circles, 138; Lennox and, xvii, 15, 42, 44–5, 47, 49–51, 137–8, 140, 154, 158, 165–6, 170, 207, 209–10, 212, 221, 225, 233, 284, 289, 291, 298, 316, 319; vs free agency, 7, 49, 55, 137; satirized, 137, 159; and subscription publication, 140; transition to print market from, 139– 40. See also Clerke, Lady Lydia; Finch, Lady Isabella; Lennox, Charlotte: dedications; Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Duke and Duchess of; Rockingham, Mary Watson-Wentworth, Marchioness of Patu, Claude Pierre, 128, 388n80 Penn, William, 335 Percy, Thomas, 90, 220, 255 periodicals, 5, 45, 176, 183, 185, 203, 301; and the classics, 189; editorial claims of gentility, 184; illustrations in, 177; mass production of, 6, 173–4; polite sociability in, 173, 185, 189; and propaganda, 213; single-essay literary periodicals, 173; as vehicles for education, 180–1, 184, 187, 204; as vehicles for literate conversation, 188. See also eidolons; Lennox, Charlotte, works: Lady’s Museum; newspapers and magazines Petyt, William, 39 Philadelphia, 312, 335, 356 Phillips, Teresia Constantia, 57–8 phronesis, 176, 191, 397n23 Pilkington, Laetitia, 57 Piozzi, Hester. See Thrale, Hester piracy, literary: of the Lady’s Museum, 203; of Sully, 149 Pitt, William. See Chatham, William, first Earl of Plato, 64–5, 128, 160

Plautus, 112, 129 Plumb, J.H., 319–20 poems addressed to Lennox, 217–18, 317–18; “Advice to the Novice in Love. Occasion’d by reading the Art of Coquetry,” 75; “Ode to Charlotte Lennox” (Baretti), 133; “To Mrs. Charlotte Lennox” (C.M.), 215–16; “To Mrs. Charlotte Lennox. On Reading Her Poems,” 52, 72; “To Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, upon seeing the Poems,” 51 Polasky, Janet, 318 Polwhele, Richard, 105, 349 Pope, Alexander, 55, 64–5, 88, 129, 164, 168–9, 201, 317; Dunciad, The, 59; and Shakespeare, 113, 120–1, 354 Powell, Elizabeth, 236 Powell, Manushag, 174, 185 Powell, William, 229, 236 Presbyterians, 24 Price, Richard, 320 Prince of Wales Coffee House, xxii, 339 Pythagoras, 199 Quiller-Couch, Arthur, 356 quixotism, 103, 117, 261; female, trope of, 105; of learned women, 12, 134; of Lennox and Johnson, 85, 91, 93–4, 99, 105–6. See also Lennox, Charlotte, works: Female Quixote, The Racine, Jean, 128; Bajazet, 256–7 Ramsay, Catherine Tisdale (Lennox’s mother), xvii, 23–5, 33, 39–40, 53, 224, 240, 285, 304, 369n13; death of, 222. See also Lumley family Ramsay, Charlotte. See Lennox, Charlotte Ramsay, Eleanor (Lennox’s sister), 23, 33, 44–5, 53, 64, 312

Index Ramsay, James (Lennox’s father), xvii, 23–6, 28–9, 35, 53, 216, 222, 364n11, 365n15, 365n18, 366nn33–4; death of, 39–40, 369n7; eschewed colonial trade, 29; Lennox’s description of, 29, 35, 39. See also Dalhousie family Ramsay, James, Jr (Lennox’s brother), 22, 33, 35–6, 53, 71; and Lennox’s early education, 33, 35–6, 368n77. See also Lennox, Charlotte, works: Harriot Stuart Rapin de Thoyras, 215 rationality, 14, 99, 171; Baconian rationalism, 327; and benevolence, 103; equality of women’s and men’s minds, 11, 186; and practical wisdom (phronesis), 176; and quixotism, 103; and religious doubt, 283; vs romantic sensibility, 152 Ravaillac, François, 143, 148, 390n20 Raynal, Abbé Guillaume-Thomas, 333 realism, 56, 74–6, 307, 354, 366n35; verisimilitude, 76, 93 Reed, Isaac, 52, 354 Reeve, Clara, 8, 16, 59 Regan, Shaun, 160 Reynolds, Frances, 84, 289, 290 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, xviii, 121, 132, 202, 205, 208, 234, 254, 289–90, 338; Bartalozzi’s engraving, xviii, xx, 205, 254, 336, 355, 403n3; portrait of Lennox, xx, 205–6, 217, 245 Richardson, Samuel, 3–4, 7, 50, 56, 138, 354; circle of, 50; Clarissa, 3, 6–7, 68, 74, 89, 95–6, 223, 246; on female virtue, 175; and Lennox, 3–4, 50, 56, 86–8, 95–6, 105, 109, 281; Pamela, 4, 6–7, 49, 67–8, 89, 246; and romance, 89; sentimental love in, 89; Sir Charles Grandison, 223, 246; theory

 485

and method of the novel, 92, 96; on women’s writing, 13, 15 Rider, William: An Historical and Critical Account of the Living Writers of GreatBritain, 206 Robertson, William, 160–1 Robinson, Mary, 337, 415n18 Rochford, William Henry Nassau van Zuylestein, fourth Earl, 207, 292 Rockingham, Charles WatsonWentworth, second Marquess of, 42, 58, 222, 231, 233, 316 Rockingham, Mary (Finch) WatsonWentworth, Marchioness, xvii, xxii, 42–4, 48–50, 56, 65, 100, 148, 207, 233; as patron to young Lennox, xvii, 38–40, 43, 45, 207, 296 Roman Catholics: anti-Catholicism, 24, 40; conversion of, 40; fictional, 40, 62– 3, 158, 330–2; in France, 79, 143, 178, 198. See also Jesuits; Lennox, Charlotte, works: Memoirs of the Duke of Sully romances, 90, 114, 156; conventional heroines of, 64, 223; dangers of, 90–1, 94, 158; erotic, 59; excesses of imagination, 90, 92; French, 81–2, 86, 90–2, 95, 102, 150–3, 250, 331, 346; Johnson on, 90–3; Lennox and, 91–4, 151–2, 156; literary characters imitating, 81, 86, 102; and the novel, 81–2, 89–90, 92; suspicion of, 155. See also anti-romance Rose, George, 215–16, 342 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 350 Rowden, Arabella, 348 Rowe, Elizabeth Singer, 14, 329 Rowe, Nicholas: Fair Peninent, The, xvii, 44; on Shakespeare, 113, 120–1, 354; Tamerlane, 257 Royal Academy, 245, 278, 299

486 

Index

Royal Literary Fund, xix, 6, 17, 167, 302, 311, 337, 339–41 Russell, John, 350–1 Rutherford, [Captain], 28 Rymer, Thomas, 113 Samuel, Richard, xviii; Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, The, plate 8, 6, 278–80, 279, 318, 346 Sappho, 32, 52, 160. See also under Lennox, Charlotte: the English Sappho Savage, Richard, 73 Sawbridge, George, 217, 265 Scarborough family, 24, 64 Scarpi, Paolo, 149 Schellenberg, Betty, 59 Schenectady, New York, 26, 28–9, 44–5, 272; Dutch population in, 30, 323, 334; in Lennox’s works, 29, 63, 323, 327, 330, 334. See also Fort Frederick; Fort Hunter Schürer, Norbert, 18 Scotland, 24, 114, 126–7, 160, 346; anti-Scottish prejudice in England, 25, 259; pirated editions, 149; Lennox’s ancestry, 5, 11, 24–5, 39, 53, 87, 216, 351; other Scottish connections, 28, 46, 49, 160, 187, 202, 213, 215–17, 220, 233, 255, 297, 299, 303, 316–17, 342, 356. See also Lennox, Alexander; Ramsay, James; Scott, Sir Walter; Shakespeare, William: Macbeth Scott, George Lewis, 165, 202, 208, 281 Scott, Sarah, 15, 58, 60, 150, 202, 208, 281, 289, 300, 402n125; and the female intellectual, 154; History of Cornelia, 60–1; opposed women’s political involvement, 275–6 Scott, Sir Walter, 7, 357; influenced by Lennox, 19

Scottish Enlightenment, 100, 160, 351 Séjourné, Phillip, 17, 29, 67, 365n23 Seneca, 293 sensibility, 134, 197, 218; in comedy, 263; exaggerated, 263; vs insensibility, 70, 356; in Lennox’s writing, 7, 17, 70, 134, 189, 265, 326, 331; romantic, 152; and the sensible reader, 103, 384n74 Seven Years’ War, 128, 144, 160, 210, 240 Seward, Anna, 298, 348 Seymour, Mr (Millar’s reader), 87 Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, third Earl of, 12–13 Shakespeare, William, 5–6, 9, 98, 109, 116–18, 141, 348; British Shakespeare worship, 110, 113, 117–18, 121, 131, 257, 261, 345; and Homer, 131; Julius Caesar, 122; King Lear, 122, 129; Macbeth, 113, 122, 126–7, 194, 388n76; Measure for Measure, 125, 355; Merchant of Venice, The, 130; Much Ado about Nothing, 114, 116, 355; and nationalism, 110, 128, 131–2; Othello, 48, 122; Richard II, 125; Romeo and Juliet, 117, 125–6, 129; Tempest, The, 129; Troilus and Cressida, 112, 131; Winter’s Tale, A, 125, 256, 356–7; women as literary critics of, 113–14. See also Johnson, Samuel; Lennox, Charlotte, works: Shakespear Illustrated Shakespeare, William, editors of: anonymous (1745), 113; Campbell, Thomas, 356, 435–6n69; Hanmer, Sir Thomas, 113, 121, 354; Johnson, Samuel, 113, 119–27, 354; Mordecai, Manuel Noah, 356; Pope, Alexander, 113, 354; Quiller-Couch, Arthur, 356; Reed, Isaac, 52, 354; Rowe, Nicholas, 113, 120–1, 354; Steevens, George, 130–1, 354–5; Theobald, Lewis, 39, 113,

Index 120; Warburton, William, 113, 118, 120–1, 354; Wilson, John Dover, 356 Sharpe, Gregory, 162, 202, 394n101 Shelley, Mary, 105, 353 Shenstone, William, xviii, 220, 308 Sheridan, Elizabeth Linley, xviii Sheridan, Frances, 78, 90; Dupe, The, 229, 232; among the Nine Living Muses of Great Britain, 278 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 238 Sheridan, Thomas, 232 Shevelow, Kathryn, 18 Siddons, Sarah, 285 Sidney, Sir Philip, 223 Skeeles, Cordelia, 348 slavery, 252, 317, 346 Small, Miriam, 17, 83, 85, 388n76 Smart, Christopher, 188, 206 Smith, Adam, 99, 338; and the impartial spectator, 103 Smith, Charlotte, 348–9, 415n18, 433–4n39 Smith, William, 31 Smollett, Tobias, 78, 141, 152, 199, 201, 213, 246, 401n112; edits the Briton, 213; names Lennox a genius, 201, 220; Peregrine Pickle, 246; Roderick Random, 92, 246; Sir Lancelot Greaves, 199, 278 Snell, Hannah, 278 Socrates, 60, 177, 179, 194, 323 Solon, 335 Somerset House, plate 5, xxviii; Lennox’s residence, 225, 233, 245, 280, 363n58; rebuilding, 245, 278, 413n85; Royal Academy in, 245, 278 Sophocles, 161, 348 Spain, 23, 128, 137, 143, 172, 246, 261; translations of Lennox’s works, 82, 354; war with, 213 Spedding, Patrick, 59

 487

Spence, Thomas, 267, 418n84 Spencer, Jane, 70 Stanhope, Caroline (Mrs). See under eidolons Staves, Susan, 153, 390n15 Steele, Richard, 173 Steevens, George, 130–1, 354–5 Sterne, Lawrence, 78 Stiles, Ezra, 216 Strafford, William Wentworth, second Earl of, 154 Strahan, Alexander, 215, 342 Strahan, William. See under booksellers and printers Stuart, Charles Edward (prince), 42, 60 Stuart, Lady Louisa, 347, 353 subscription: publication by, 39, 45, 84, 120, 138, 140, 371n41, 397n22; and The Female Quixote, 140; and Original Works, 254–6, 315, 415n14; and Philander, 339; and Poems on Several Occasions, 52, 72, 100, 138, 140; and Shakespeare Illustrated, 297, 338–9; and The Sister, 233–5, 237 Sully, Maximilien de Béthune, duc de. See Lennox, Charlotte, works: Memoirs of the Duke of Sully, The Sutherland, Alexander, 341, 363n58 Swift, Jonathan, 25, 88, 201; Gulliver’s Travels, 58 Talbot, Catherine, 79, 142, 150, 154 Taylor, Jeremy, 323 Tenney, Tabitha Gilman, 353 Theobald, Lewis: Works of Shakespeare, The, 39, 113, 120–1 Thomson, James, 348 Thornton, Bonnell, 289, 421n24; New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linnaeus, 347–8; and Wilkes, 240

488  Thornton, Robert John, 348, 350–2, 432n22, 434n42; New Illustration of the Sexual System of Linnaeus, 347–8, 350–1 Thornton, Sylvia Brathwaite, 289, 291–3, 348 Thrale, Hester Lynch (later Hester Piozzi), 8, 84, 235, 255, 283, 297, 344; anonymous and pseudonymous publication by, 176 Tibullus, 162 Tisdale, Walter, 24–5 Tory politics, 210–11 translation, 39, 82, 141–2; by Lennox, 4–5, 8, 10, 17, 40, 54, 78–80, 89, 96, 110–14, 117, 125–6, 129–30, 138, 140, 141–50; by women writers, 15–16, 60, 99, 150, 390n15; of Lennox’s works, 19, 77, 82, 141; proliferation of bad translations, 141 Trotter, Catherine, 172 United States of America, 312, 321 van Dyck, Sir Anthony, 179 Vane, Frances Anne Holles, 58 Vauxhall, 188 verisimilitude. See realism Vesey, Elizabeth, 15, 207, 404n18 Vienna, 237 Vives, Juan Luis, 172 Voltaire, 154, 249; calls Maintenon a “Romance,” 156; disrespects Shakespeare, 131 Wain, John, 122 Wales, George William Frederick, Prince of (later George III), 165–6, 205, 210 Walker, Anthony, 177, 397n26 Walpole, Horace, 51, 154

Index Walpole, Robert, 243 Warburton, William, 113, 118, 120–1, 354, 362n52 Ward, Ned, 55–6 Warton, Joseph, 129, 239 Warton, Thomas, 129, 134 Welch, Anne, 201–2, 206 Welch, Mary, 201–2, 206; and Rasselas, 202 Welch, Saunders, 201–2, 206, 208, 213; and Wilkes, 217 Wesley, John, 252, 414n1 Wesley, Susanna, 172 Whig politics, 39, 210–11, 217, 221, 231 Whitney, Asena, 307 Wickins, James, 354–5 Wilkes, John, 213, 217, 233, 238–40, 265; and libertinism, 244; and The New Foundling Hospital for Wit, 239–40; the Wilkes riots, 210, 217. See also Nonsense Club, the Wilkinson, Tate, 259 William III (king), 24, 64, 257 Wilson, Harriette, 347 Wilson, John Dover, 356 Wilton, Mr (in Lennox’s circle), 202 Winstanley, Thomas, 283–4, 310 Winterson, Jeanette, 261 wit, 12, 32, 84, 184, 298, 309; and coquetry, 52, 72, 243; Lennox’s, 5, 51– 2, 56, 79, 93, 193, 202–3, 283, 318; in Lennox’s characters, 8, 63–4, 69, 214, 216–18, 306, 324, 331; low, 263, 297; and women writers, 12, 57–8, 242–3, 344. See also New Foundling Hospital for Wit Wollstonecraft, Mary, 7; Vindication of the Rights of Woman, A, 104–5, 349 Woman Not Inferior to Men, 44

Index women, 33; agency, 9, 14, 46–7, 61–2, 67–8, 70, 72, 82, 164, 177, 242–3, 267, 271, 273–5, 318–19; coquetry and reputation, 52, 193, 200; economic problems of, 60; education of, 10–12, 33, 35, 140, 171–3, 175, 178–82, 194–7, 248–9, 287, 348–9; “fallen,” 11, 59; “feeling woman” vs “thinking man,” 11; female imagination, 12; female intellectual, the, 154, 171, 175–6, 182, 190, 249, 349; female liberty, 156, 223, 242, 324; female literary history, 51; female selfhood, 8; and gynocratic modernity, 278; learned, 12, 33–4, 164; mistresses, 153, 178, 247–9, 266; and playwriting careers, 5; poets, 14, 45; “querelle des femmes,” 12; reforming through religion, 71, 199; risk of violence against, 8, 140; social and legal limitations of, 11; slow rise of public influence, 14; suitability for serious study, 9, 173–6, 199–200 women’s place in history, 9–10, 197, 346. See also Descartes, René; feminism and proto-feminism; femininity; Lennox, Charlotte, and history women’s study of history, 9, 35, 46, 65, 150, 152–3, 175–7, 182–3, 186–7,

 489

190, 195, 207–8, 215, 220–1, 248; Lennox as Clio, 8, 46, 133, 318. See also Lennox, Charlotte: and history women writers, 360nn12–13; age of the emerging female authors, 14, 16; amatory fiction, 59; and anonymity, 15–16, 60–1, 176; anthologized, 242; fear of looking pedantic, 175; in literary history, 8; mutual encouragement by, 208; perceived disreputability of, 57–8, 176, 347; and power for good or ill, 71; and pseudonymous publication, 15, 176, 188, 193; satirized as monstrous, 59; stereotypes of, 18; suspected of immorality, 57–9; and translation, 15–16, 40, 60; and wit, 12, 57; and writing for money, 10, 51, 54, 61, 138 Woolf, Virginia, 14, 16 working-class protests, 210 Yates, Mary Anne, xviii, 157, 258, 281, 289, 308 York, Prince Edward, Duke of, 205 York, Prince Frederick, Duke of, 338 York, Frederica Charlotte, Duchess of, 338 Young Pretender, the. See Stuart, Charles Edward