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"This sacrifice," says the editor of the Diary, "was made in the young authoress's fifteenth year." This could not be; for the sacrifice was the effect, according to the editor's own showing, of the remonstrances of the second Mrs. Burney; and Frances was in her sixteenth year when her father's second marriage took place. The Edinburgh Review, July, 1843
Jameson says, "lived, or are supposed to have lived, in the first ages of Christianity: and whose real history, founded on fact or tradition, has been so disguised by poetical embroidery, that they have in some sort the air of ideal beings;" and which may, therefore, be taken as a complete test of the authoress's tact and honesty: In the province of Cappadocia and in the city of Caesarea, dwelt a noble virgin, whose name was Dorothea.
I am very anxious to read 'Otto, not to see it. I am not going to see it, notwithstanding an offered temptation to sit in the authoress's own box. With regard to 'Ion, I think it is a beautiful work, but beautiful rather morally than intellectually. Is this right or not?
'You should take into account the authoress's disappointed vanity. 'Yes, poor thing! How he must have nattered her! 'Besides, there is the loss of the money, which, I fear, falls as seriously on good Miss Hacket as on the goose herself. 'Does it, indeed? That must not be. How much is it? 'Fifteen pounds; and that foolish Constance fancies that poor Dolores assisted in duping her.
As an intimate friend of the Burtons, I beg to say that everything said about the life of the Burtons at this place in the 'true' life has been written by dictation, and, furthermore, that I could name the authoress's informant, which makes the book worthless for those who know the source from which the authoress has gathered her information the same source which has made Lady Burton's life hideous from the day of her husband's death to the time she left this place.
Among the portions which are most infected by this sin we may mention the description of scenery, thanks, doubtless, in no small measure, to the influence of that very dangerous model Mr. Ruskin.... Before concluding our article we must notice the authoress's views on two important subjects which enter largely into her stories love and religion.
We are almost as much pleased by the authoress's confident expectation that we shall be thrilled to learn any new fact about Miss Aldrich, who wrote "one of the most exquisite lyrics in the language"; about Rhoda Hero Dunn, "a genius" with "an almost Shakespearean quality in her verse," or about Elsa Barker, whose poem The Frozen Grail, "dedicated to Peary and his band, is an epic of august beauty," and whose sonnet When I am Dead "ranks with the great sonnets of the world," as she would be surprised to discover that we had never heard of one of them.
The Memoirs of Queen Margaret of Navarre are merely a romance compared with those of Mdlle. de La Force. The authoress's own life was a romance. Being extremely poor, although of an ancient and honourable family, she accepted the office of demoiselle d'honneur to the Duchesse de Guise.
It does not contain any of those poems which have proved the most popular among its authoress's complete works, except 'Cowper's Grave; but 'The Seraphim' was a poem which deserved to attract attention, and among the minor poems were 'The Poet's Vow, 'Isobel's Child, 'The Romaunt of Margret, 'My Doves, and 'The Sea-mew. The volume did not suffice to win any wide reputation for Miss Barrett, and no second edition was called for; on the other hand, it was received with more than civility, with genuine cordiality, by several among the reviewers, though they did not fail to note its obvious defects.
She did not cease to look like a basilisk, but she began to look like a basilisk who has had a good lunch. "My favourite," said Jane, who for a week had been sitting daily in a chair in the drawing-room adjoining the table on which the authoress's complete works were assembled, "is 'The Spreading Light. I do like 'The Spreading Light!" "It was written some years ago," said Mrs.
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