MRS. NORTON
It is hardly necessary to state that this beautiful and charming womanwas the second daughter of Thomas Sheridan and grand-daughter of RichardBrinsley Sheridan, of Regency renown. She was one of three sistersfamous for beauty and brains, the eldest of whom married Lord Dufferin,and the youngest Lord Seymour, afterwards Duke of Somerset.
Born in the first decade of the present century, she married atnineteen, in 1827, George Norton, brother of the third Lord Grantley--aunion which proved most unhappy. In 1836 Mr. Norton sought for adivorce, in an action which entirely failed. Nevertheless, Nortonremained irreconcilable, and availed himself of all the powers which thelaw then lent to a vindictive husband, claiming the proceeds of hiswife's literary work, and interfering between her and her children. Butit is with Mrs. Norton as a writer rather than as a woman that we areconcerned, and it is useless now to dwell upon the story of her wrongsand struggles.
Previous to this unfortunate suit she produced, in 1829, "The Story ofRosalie, with other Poems," which seems to have been her first publishedwork. This was well received and much admired.
In 1830 "The Undying One," a poem on the Wandering Jew, was brought out,followed in 1840 by "The Dream and other Poems." This was highly praisedin the _Quarterly Review_ by Lockhart, who spoke of her as "the Byron ofpoetesses." Other poems from her pen touched on questions of socialinterest: "A Voice from the Factories" and "The Child of the Islands," apoem on the social condition of the English people. She also printed"English Laws for Women in the Nineteenth Century," and published muchof it in pamphlets on Lord Cranworth's Divorce Bill of this year (1853),thus assisting in the amelioration of the laws relating to the custodyof children, and the protection of married women's earnings.
Her natural tendency was towards poetry, and the first five bookspublished by her were all in verse. In 1851 appeared a novel, in threevolumes, called "Stuart of Dunleath," which was succeeded by "Lost andSaved" and "Old Sir Douglas."
It is curious to observe the depth and width of the gulf which yawnsbetween the novel of 1851 and the novel of to-day.
The latter opens with some brief sentence spoken by one of thecharacters, or a short dialogue between two or three of them, followedby a rapid sketch of their position or an equally brief picture of thescene in which the action of the piece is laid. The reader is plunged atonce into the drama, and left to guess the parts allotted by the authorto his puppets.
Forty-five years ago, when Mrs. Norton wrote "Stuart of Dunleath," thereader had to pass through a wide porch and many long passages before hereached the inner chambers of the story. An account of the hero andheroine's families, even to the third and fourth generation, wasindispensable, and the minutest particulars of their respective abodesand surroundings were carefully detailed. The tale travelled by easystages, with many a pause where byways brought additional wayfarers tojoin the throng of those already travelling through the pages; whileeach and all, regardless of proportion, were described with equalfulness whatever their degree of importance.
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These are the characteristics of Mrs. Norton's novels, which stretch ina leisurely fashion to something like two hundred thousand words.Nevertheless, "Stuart of Dunleath" shows great ability and knowledge ofthe world. It is evidently written by a well-read, cultivated, andrefined woman, with warm feelings and strong religious convictions. Thedescriptions are excellent, the language is easy and graceful.
The scene of the story lies chiefly in Scotland, and the Scotchcharacters are very well drawn, save one, Lady Macfarren, who isinhumanly hard. This, too, is one of the peculiarities of the forty orforty-five year old novel; its people are terribly consistent in good orevil. The dignity, the high-mindedness, the angelic purity of theheroine is insupportable, and the stainless honour, the stern resistanceto temptation, the defiance of tyrannical wrongdoers, makes the heroquite as bad.
In "Stuart of Dunleath," however, the hero is decidedly weak. He is theguardian of Eleanor Raymond, the heroine, and, seeing a probability ofmaking a large profit by a speculative loan, risks her money, hoping toobtain the means to buy back his estate without diminishing her fortune.The speculation fails. Eleanor is reduced to poverty, and Stuart issupposed to drown himself. Then the impoverished heroine, who isdesperately in love with her guardian, is compelled to marry a wealthybaronet, Sir Stephen Penrhyn. This is the beginning of troubles, andvery bad troubles they are, continuing steadily through two-thirds ofthe book.
Sir Stephen is a brutally bad husband, is shamelessly unfaithful,personally violent, breaks his wife's arm, and makes her life a burden.Her little twin sons are drowned in a boating accident, and then Stuartreturns from the grave, having been stopped in his attempt to drownhimself by a picturesque old clergyman, and started off to America,where he manages to recover the lost fortune.
By his advice, Eleanor leaves her tyrant and takes steps to obtain adivorce, but before the case is ready for hearing is seized withscruples and gives up the attempt, chiefly because she fears she isinfluenced by an unholy love for Stuart. Finally she gets leave ofabsence from her amiable spouse, and dies of a broken heart before itexpires, Stuart having married her dearest friend, the brilliant LadyMargaret Fordyce, thinking that Eleanor had no real affection for him.
The scruples are much to her credit, of course, but she might have triedto save the remainder of her life from the degradation which must havebeen the result of a reunion with her husband, yet kept aloof fromStuart without offending God or breaking any sacred law.
Eighteen very distinct characters figure in these pages, and three orfour children. Of these the best drawn are those most lightly sketched.The author's favourites are too much described, their merits, theirpeculiarities, their faults (if allowed to have any) are detailed as thewriter sees them. But they do not act and live and develop themselves tothe reader, and, therefore, become abstractions, not living entities.
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"Lost and Saved," written some dozen of years afterward, has much thesame qualities as "Stuart of Dunleath." The subsidiary characters aremore convincing than the leading ladies and gentlemen. The hero, if sucha man could be so termed, with his extreme selfishness, his surfaceamiability, his infirmity of purpose and utter faithlessness, is welldrawn. There is a respectable hero also, but we do not see much of him,which is not to be regretted, as he is an intolerable prig.
In this romance the heroine elopes with Treherne, the villainous hero.(Of course, there are the usual family objections to their wedding.)They intend to go to Trieste, but in the confusion of a night march theyget on board the wrong steamer, and find themselves at Alexandria. HereTreherne is confronted with his aunt, the magnificent Marchioness ofUpdown. He is therefore obliged to suppress Beatrice (the heroine) untilthe Marchioness "moves on."
They consequently set off on a voyage up the Nile, apparently in searchof a clergyman to marry them. It seems, by the way, a curious sort ofhunting-ground in which to track an English parson. Then Beatrice fallsdangerously ill, and nothing will save her save a parson and themarriage service. A benevolent and sympathetic young doctor is goodenough to simulate a British chaplain, and the knot is tied to thecomplete satisfaction of Beatrice. Much misery ensues.
It must be added that the magnificent Marchioness of Updown is anextraordinary picture. Besides being a peeress by marriage, she is thedaughter of an earl, an aristocrat born and bred. Yet her vulgarity isamazing. Her stupid ill-nature, her ignorance, her speech and manner,suggest the idea of a small shopkeeper in a shabby street.
In this novel Mrs. Norton portrays the whited-sepulchre sort of womanvery clearly in Milly, Lady Nesdale, who is admired and petted bySociety, always smiling, well tempered, well dressed, careful to observe_les bienseances_, making herself pleasant even to her husband; while,screened by this fair seeming, she tastes of a variety of forbiddenfruit, one mouthful of which would be enough to consign a less astutewoman to social death. This class o
f character figures largely inpresent day novels, but few equal, none surpass, Mrs. Norton's masterlytouch.
"Old Sir Douglas," her last novel, was published in _Macmillan'sMagazine_, 1867. It is planned on the same lines as her previous worksof fiction--the plot rather complicated, the characters extremelynumerous; among these is an almost abnormally wicked woman who worksendless mischief.
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It was, however, as a poetess that Mrs. Norton was chiefly known. Herverse was graceful and harmonious, but more emotional than intellectual.Wrath at injustice and cruelty stirred the depths of her soul; her heartwas keenly alive to the social evils around her and she longedpassionately for power to redress them. The effect of her own wrongs andsufferings was to quicken her ardour to help her fellow women smartingunder English law as it at that time existed. What that law thenpermitted is best exemplified by her own experience. When the legalproceedings between her and her husband were over, and her innocence ofthe charges brought against her was fully established, she was allowedto see her children only _once_ for the space of half an hour in thepresence of two witnesses chosen by Mr. Norton, though this state ofthings was afterwards ameliorated by the Infant Custody Act, whichallowed some little further restricted intercourse.
But these evil times are past. Indeed, it seems hard to believe thatbarely fifty years separates the barbarous injustice of that period fromthe decent amenities of this, as regards the respective rights ofhusbands and wives.
Mrs. Norton's second poem of importance, "The Undying One," is foundedon the legend of the Wandering Jew, a subject always attractive to thepoetic imagination. It contains many charming lines, and touches on animmense variety of topics, wandering, like its hero, over many lands.The sufferings of isolation are vividly depicted, and isolation must, ofnecessity, be the curse of endless life in this world.
"Thus, thus, to shrink from every outstretched hand, To strive in secret and alone to stand, Or, when obliged to mingle in the crowd, Curb the pale lip which quiveringly obeys, Gapes wide with sudden laughter, vainly loud, Or writhes a faint, slow smile to meet their gaze. This, this is hell! the soul which dares not show The barbed sorrow which is rankling there, Gives way at length beneath its weight of woe, Withers unseen, and darkens to despair!"
In these days of rapidity and concentration, poems such as this wouldnever emerge from the manuscript stage, in which they might be read byappreciative friends with abundant leisure.
The same observation applies to "The Dream." A mother sits watching theslumber of her beautiful young daughter who, waking, tells her dream ofan exquisite life with the one she loves best, unshadowed by grief orpain. The mother warns her that life will not be like this, and draws asomewhat formidable picture of its realities. From this the girlnaturally shrinks, wondering where Good is to be found, and is answeredthus:
"He that deals blame, and yet forgets to praise, Who sets brief storms against long summer days, Hath a sick judgment. And shall we _all_ condemn, and _all_ distrust, Because some men are false and some unjust?"
Some of Mrs. Norton's best and most impassioned verses are to be foundin the dedication of this poem to her friend, the Duchess of Sutherland.
Affection, gratitude, indignation, grief, regret--_these_ are thesources of Mrs. Norton's inspiration; but of any coldly intellectualsolution of life's puzzles, such as more modern writers affect, there islittle trace.
"The Lady of La Garaye" is a Breton tale (a true one) of a beautiful andnoble Chatelaine, on whom Heaven had showered all joy and blessing.Adored by her husband, she shared every hour of his life andaccompanied him in his favourite sport of hunting. One day she dared tofollow him over too wide a leap. Her horse fell with and on her. She wasterribly injured, and crippled for life. After much lamenting she iscomforted by a good priest, and institutes a hospital for incurables,she and her husband devoting themselves to good works for the remainderof their days. The versification is smooth, the descriptions aregraceful and picturesque; but neither the subject nor its treatment isenthralling.
Mrs. Norton's finest poetic efforts are to be found in her short pieces.One entitled "Ataraxia" has a soothing charm, which owes half its melodyto the undertone of sadness which pervades the verse.
"Come forth! The sun hath flung on Thetis' breast The glittering tresses of his golden hair; All things are heavy with a noon-day rest, And floating sea-birds cleave the stirless air. Against the sky in outlines clear and rude The cleft rocks stand, while sunbeams slant between And lulling winds are murmuring through the wood Which skirts the bright bay, with its fringe of green.
"Come forth! all motion is so gentle now It seems thy step alone should walk the earth, Thy voice alone, the 'ever soft and low,' Wake the far haunting echoes into birth.
"Too wild would be Love's passionate store of hope, Unmeet the influence of his changeful power, Ours be companionship whose gentle scope Hath charm enough for such a tranquil hour."
From the perusal of her writings, the impression given by her portrait,and the reminiscences of one who knew her, we gather an idea of thischarming and gifted woman, whose nature seems to have been rich in allthat makes for the happiness of others, and of herself. We feel that shepossessed a mind abundantly stored, an imagination stimulated andinformed by sojourning in many lands; a heart, originally tender andcompassionate, mellowed by maternal love, a judgment trained andrestrained by constant intercourse with the best minds of the period, awit keen as a damascene blade, and a soul to feel, even to enthusiasm,the wrongs and sufferings of others.
Add to these gifts the power of swift expression, and we can imaginewhat a fascination Mrs. Norton must have possessed for those of hercontemporaries who had the privilege of knowing her. "She was the mostbrilliant woman I ever met," said the late Charles Austen, "and herbrilliancy was like summer lightning; it dazzled, but did not hurt."Unless, indeed, she was impelled to denounce some wrong or injustice,when her words could strike home. Yet to this lovely and lovable woman,life was a long disappointment; and through all she has written a strainof profound rebellion against the irony of fate colours her views, herdelineations of character, her estimate of the social world. By herrelations and friends she was warmly appreciated.
She did not succeed in obtaining the relief of divorce until about 1853.Mr. Norton survived till 1875, and in 1877, a few months before herdeath, his widow married Sir William Stirling-Maxwell.
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It is a curious instance of the change of fashion and the transientnature of popular memory that great difficulty is experienced inobtaining copies of Mrs. Norton's works, especially of her poems. "TheUndying One," "The Dream," and one or two smaller pieces, are found onlyin the British Museum Library. The novels are embedded in the deeperstrata of Mudie's, but are not mentioned in the catalogue of thatall-embracing collection. Yet forty years ago, Mrs. Norton acknowledgedthat she made at one time about L1400 a year by her pen, this chiefly byher contributions to the annuals of that time.
Mrs. Norton, however, had not to contend with the cruel competitionwhich lowers prices while it increases labour. In her day, the workerswere few, and the employers less difficult to please. But thesecomparisons are not only odious, but fruitless. The crowd, thecompetition, the desperate struggle for life, exists, increases, and wecannot alter it. We can but train for the contest as best we may, andsay with the lovely and sorely tried subject of this sketch, as shewrites in her poem to her absent boys:
"Though my lot be hard and lonely, Yet I hope--I hope through all."
[Signature: Annie Hector]
("MRS. ALEXANDER")
"A. L. O. E." (MISS TUCKER) MRS. EWING
_By_ MRS. MARSHALL