By Anne Thackeray Ritchie
Anne Thackeray Ritchie (1837-1919) used to be a author and the eldest daughter of the novelist W. M. Thackeray. She had a tumultuous formative years: her mom suffered from melancholy and was once finally dedicated to a health center, and the kin skilled poverty earlier than her father's literary luck. Anne was once super with regards to her father, who in demand her mind and inspired her writing. whilst he died, Anne arrange residence along with her sister Harriet and her brother-in-law, the literary journalist Leslie Stephen. Anne's novels have been serialised within the Cornhill journal, which her father had edited, and their good fortune verified her literary acceptance. A booklet of Sibyls is Anne's examine of 4 girl writers: the poet Anna Laetitia Barbauld and the novelists Amelia Opie, Maria Edgeworth and Jane Austen. for additional info in this writer, see http://orlando.cambridge.org/public/svPeople?person_id=ritcan [C:\Users\Microsoft\Documents\Calibre Library]
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Extra info for A Book of Sibyls: Mrs. Barbauld, Miss Edgeworth, Mrs Opie, Miss Austen
Mrs. Edgeworth's health was also failing all this time--'Though she makes epigrams she is far from well,' says Maria; but they, none of them seem seriously alarmed. Mr. Edgeworth, in the intervals of politics, is absorbed in a telegraph, which, with the help of his sons, he is trying to establish. It is one which will act by night as well as by day. It was a time of change and stir for Ireland, disaffection growing and put down for a time by the soldiers; armed bands going about 'defending' the country and breaking its windows.
She more than fulfilled the promise of her letter; she made me at once her most intimate friend, and in every trifle of the day treated me with the most generous confidence. Those times were even more serious than they are now; we hear of Mr. Bond, the High Sheriff, paying 'a pale visit' to Edgeworthtown. 'I am going on in the old way, writing stories,' says Maria Edgeworth, writing in 1798. 'I cannot be a captain of dragoons, and sitting with my hands before me would not make any one of us one degree safer....
Sincerity of heart and truth to themselves are pretty sure in the end to lead people in the right direction for their own and for other people's happiness. Only, in the experience of many women there is the danger that fixed ideas, and other people's opinion, and the force of custom may limit lives which might have been complete in greater things, though perhaps less perfect in the lesser. People in the abstract are sincere enough in wishing fulness of experience and of happiness to those dearest and nearest to them; but we are only human beings, and when the time comes and the horrible necessity for parting approaches, our courage goes, our hearts fail, and we think we are preaching reason and good sense while it is only a most natural instinct which leads us to cling to that to which we are used and to those we love.
A Book of Sibyls: Mrs. Barbauld, Miss Edgeworth, Mrs Opie, Miss Austen by Anne Thackeray Ritchie