Frances Burney D'arblay and Anglican Womanhood, 1752 – 1840
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Frances Burney d’Arblay and Anglican Womanhood, 1752 – 1840. Daniel James Edward Alexander Waterfield. Queens’ College. March, 2019. This dissertation is submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Acknowledgements: With thanks to Andrew C. Thompson, Sophie Coulombeau, Peter Sabor, Catherine Nygren, John Overholt, Amy Erickson, Nicholas Dixon, and to Kevin Feeney, Tim Oliver, Chris Evans, Henry Coleman, Anthony Breach, Jack Thompson, Toby Waterworth, Finn Trevarthen-Darby, Greg Williams, Jacob Weinbren, Ruth Rimmer, and Chris Terry for making sure I didn’t slack. I gratefully acknowledge the financial support of the Pigott Foundation, McGill-ASECS, and the Donald and Mary Hyde Fellowship at Harvard University. Most of all, to my wife, Becky Waterfield. Abstract. A resurgence of interest precipitated by Joyce Hemlow in the middle half of the twentieth century has rescued the British novelist Frances Burney d’Arblay’s (1752 – 1840) cutting social criticism from the shadow of her near-contemporary Jane Austen. Yet such work has – with the exception of recent work on the colonial contexts of the Burney family as a whole – centred on the standard gendered contexts of elite social spaces and marriage markets. Frances Burney, however, was the Anglican daughter of a Catholic mother, counted Burke, Garrick, Johnson, and Mrs Thrale among her friends after Evelina’s publication in 1778, spent five years as servant to Queen Charlotte, witnessing the Hastings Trial and George’s first illness, then married a French Roman Catholic émigré and spent ten years trapped in France during the Napoleonic War. Her father, a musicologist and teacher, struggled to reconcile a conservative elite sociability with the quasi-proscribed Catholicism of his wider circle. This thesis argues Frances’ world view is deeply engaged with contemporary political philosophy. Her correspondence and romance plots work out the contradictions of performing a sectarian Anglican Womanhood which is both self-evidently artificial yet 2 supposedly innate, naturalising a brutal Protestant hegemony which condemns her family and friends. Her romance plots, centring on disputed inheritances and disrupted lineages, reflect her early reading of David Hume, and tacitly acknowledge Stuart rights while defending Hanoverian legitimacy on Humean grounds of peace and stability. If her early novels display a hope that contested identities can be reconciled, it does not survive exposure to the court. By the time of the French Revolution, after sectarian riots, and with royal illness raging, the emotional turmoil of the families in Burney’s novels reflect a broken royal body, and a fractured landscape. Declaration. This dissertation is the result of my own work and includes nothing which is the outcome of work done in collaboration except as declared in the Preface and specified in the text. It is not substantially the same as any that I have submitted, or, is being concurrently submitted for a degree or diploma or other qualification at the University of Cambridge or any other University or similar institution except as declared in the Preface and specified in the text. I further state that no substantial part of my dissertation has already been submitted, or, is being concurrently submitted for any such degree, diploma or other qualification at the University of Cambridge or any other University or similar institution except as declared in the Preface and specified in the text It does not exceed the prescribed word limit for the relevant Degree Committee. Some of the arguments of Chapter Two were previously published in JECS. For the definitive version, please consult: 3 Daniel Waterfield, ‘“My Brain is on fire!” Anglican Womanhood and the Limits of Politeness in Frances Burney’s Cecilia’, JECS, Vol. 41, Issue 1, March 2019, 49 – 66. 4 Table of Contents Introduction ..................................................................................................................... 6 Chapter one: ‘[T]hough it was difficult to discover whether she was an English or a French woman’: Legitimacy, Nationality, and Gender in Frances Burney’s Evelina (1778)............ 53 Chapter two: “Ay, Ay! Don Duke, poke in the old charnel houses by yourself, none of your defunct for me!’” Blood, Debt, and the Failures of the Sociable Marketplace in Frances Burney’s Cecilia (1782) .................................................................................................... 88 Chapter three: ‘[Y]ou must break the blood vessel: But not sneeze’: Frances Burney at Court, 1786-91 .............................................................................................................. 124 Chapter four: ‘[W]rite with thy own hand thy claims, thy merits to mercy’: French Émigrés In England And The Unravelling Of Polite Society In Frances Burney’s Camilla (1796) .... 169 Chapter five: ‘She must have written, spoken, thought in French’: Race, Gender, and the Marketplace in The Wanderer (1814) ............................................................................ 221 Conclusion .................................................................................................................... 274 Bibliography ................................................................................................................. 285 5 Introduction At the end of the eighteenth century, the economic and social penalties on English Catholic life had begun to ease. The Papists Act of 1778 (18 Geo III c60) had softened some of the worst penal laws of the Popery Act 1698 (11 Will III c4). Priests and Catholic schoolmasters were no longer hunted. Protestant relatives no longer enjoyed automatic supremacy over Catholic heirs. In exchange for an oath of allegiance in which the Pope’s temporal and the Stuart’s dynastic claims were renounced, English Catholics could once more inherit and purchase land. While the 1778 Papists Act passed without much disturbance however, ‘attempts to widen it to Scotland in 1779’ were much less successful.1 In June 1780, London and Bath were wracked by the worst outbreak of anti-Catholic popular violence for decades. Lord George Gordon’s Protestant Association had presented a petition to parliament demanding the Act’s repeal. When it was dismissed out of hand, some ‘40,000 to 50,000 people […] gathered on London’s St George’s Fields.’2 The riots ended only when the army killed at least 200 people and re-occupied the streets of London. The novelist and diarist Frances Burney (1752 - 1840) was with her then-close friend Hester Thrale (1741 - 1821) in Bath when the riots broke out. Despite their Anglicanism, a newspaper notice falsely accusing Mr Thrale of Popery meant they considered themselves threatened.3 Her letters home to her father the musicologist and composer Charles (1726 - 1814), alongside frantic familial concern, bear sympathetic witness to the sight of the ‘poor persecuted’ priest Charles Walmesley,4 whom Burney recorded fleeing his blazing chapel.5 Correspondence between Frances and her sister Susan (1755 - 1800) meanwhile express pointed sympathy towards the ‘poor innocent people, who, because they are Catholics, can have no hope of redress.’6 Their father was even more explicit. In a letter to his friend, the cleric and classicist Thomas Twining (1735 - 1804), he damned the ‘outrages’ committed by 1 Jerry White, London in the Eighteenth century: A Great and Monstrous Thing, (London: Vintage, 2012), 534. 2 Ian Haywood and John Seed, ‘Introduction’ in Ian Haywood and John Seed, eds. The Gordon Riots, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 1-18, 1. 3 Doody, Frances Burney, 136. 4 Frances Burney to Dr Charles Burney, Friday Night, Bath, June 9th. In Frances Burney, Journals and Letters. Peter Sabor and Lars E Troide, eds. (London: Penguin, 2000), 164. 5 Dom Aiden Bellenger, ‘“Superstitious enemies of the flesh?” The Variety of Benedictine Responses to the Enlightenment” in Nigel Aston, (ed), Religious Change in Europe, 1650 – 1914: Essays for John McManners, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 149 – 160, 156 – 7. 6 Susan Burney to Frances Burney, 8 – 12 June 1780, Egerton MS 3691 f. 132 – 142, British Library. 6 Lord Gordon and his ‘fanatics’ and ‘miscreants’ and described how the Opera performers, because ‘guilty of a religion and country different to the mad bull, John, sang and danced with the utmost fear and trembling.’7 It was not just their friends and colleagues who were under threat. Frances’ fears for the family’s safety were well-founded. Susan wrote that ‘30 foot guards with an ensign at their head marched into the street,’ but instead of dispersing, the rioters: instead welcomed [them] with loud shouts & huzzas – The ensign made some speech to them – but I suppose he dared not oppose so many hundred people as were here assembled after a very short discourse with them, he turned round, & marched out of the street as he came into it, the Mob shouting & clapping the soldiers on their back as they passed & one of these even joined in the huzza. 8 With the military unwilling to confront the rioters, the mob returned to their search for Papists. At first, Susan was nervous but unconcerned. They, after all, were Anglicans. Frances and Susan’s late mother may have belonged to a Catholic family, but Charles’ children were – he ensured - all scrupulously Protestant. Yet the Burney’s Anglicanism belied their interconnectedness with Catholic patrons, friends, and tenants. Over the week, Mrs Reynolds came to warn them that ‘Mr Drummond,’ whose daughter