Susan Ferrier and the Lucre-banished Clans

Abstract

John Doyle, Susan Ferrier’s great-nephew and editor of The Memoir and Correspondence of Susan Ferrier (1898), tells us in the opening sentence of the introduction that she ‘lived a life so quiet and uneventful as to afford little scope for a memoir’. Although he immediately qualifies this by stating that her correspondence might be of interest to readers of her ‘clever and still popular novels’ (7), Alexander Brunton seems to have cast his shadow here. Both relatives play the role of protector while exposing the humdrum life, almost devoid of interest, of women involved in the unedifying occupation of writing fiction. If becoming Professor of Oriental Languages, in the case of Brunton, and Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, in the case of Doyle, count as great events, then Ferrier’s life might seem dull, yet Doyle’s statement is difficult to judge as anything but deceptive unless we share the very strict criterion that only public office is of any merit. If that were the case, either the gender-genre division, low against high culture, becomes irrefutable or else Scott’s life, and his dedication to literature rather than the law, would also rank him among the nondescript.

Master. But Jacques, I don’t observe this fondness for pets only among poor people. I know titled ladies who surround themselves with a whole pack of dogs, to say nothing of cats, parrots, and chirruping birds.

Jacques. A menagerie that makes them and all their friends look ridiculous. T hey don’t love anybody, nobody loves them, and they throw all the feelings they don’t know what else to do with to their dogs.

Marquis de Arcis. To love animals or to throw your heart to the dogs — that’s a peculiar way of looking at things. (Diderot 1999: 148)