Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-03-09
THE PENXLTY OF POPULARITY.
Mrs. Burnett Writes a Vigorous Protest.

Safoeo inquire IN New York on account OF her
eceentricities of dress and behavior. Boston
lionized her, but the metropolis is inclined to
| find her amusing"
1t has not hitherto been quite possible for
me to believe that the public could feel an alb
sorbing Interest in the details of my exceed
ingly simple nnd-since my return to America
entirely secluded life, but tine above clipping.
| taken IN conjunction with several others
equally surprising, has suggested to me that
might as well make few statements. Perhaps
II people are kind enough to be sufficiently in
terested IN me to read such paragraphs they
may also be kind enough to consider for few
moments what say myself particularly as
am not without the supporting testimony Of
one or two comparatively respectable persons
| who know me-
For the clipping quoted and for several
| Others can only account by saving that |
| think some one must have been masauerading
| under my name. This would not be an impos-
| sl0le solution of the mystery. as il is a thing
| which has occurred to me several times before
What the inducement could be really have
not imagination enough to explain. If were
| an individual with q taste for impersonation /
should certainly not choose Frances Hodgson
| Burnett as my favorite role. 1t seems to me it
would be so easy to furnish quite long list of
persons so much more interesting and pro-
vlding so much more material for the imper-
| senator to build upon. To proceed with my
| statements:
tleroy,"I went to New York with the lady
who IS my secretary, took rooms in the
| quietest fiat could find, and devoted myself
| strictly to the business had come to attend to-
Every morning / drove down to the theater to
| rehearsal, and every afternoon / drove back
| to my apartment very tired indeed. shut my
self up, and was seen no more. During my
| stay accepted only one invitation. and that a
most informal one. to quiet house where I
| met six or eight persons. NV eccentric dress
consisted of a black nuns yelling which cost
about Fl in London, and two dark cloth snits
! TOOK the liberty of changing with the first
mentioned startling costume. / was not aware
that anyone had seen them but the ladies and
gentlemen OF the Broadway theater, and GER
talnly could not imagine their awakening the
fantest lnterest-in the most imaginative mind.
My only appearance in public-apart from three
or -FOUR business visits to certain theaters-was
on the first night OF 'Fauntleroy," when was
again represented as shocking" the audience
| by appearing in dress the minute description
OF which was untrue in every detail of cut,
color and material My dress, feel sure, cam
not be matter of interest even to the most
lenlent and long-suffering public, but in such a
description there are suggestions involving
more serious points.
went to New York to attend strictly to an
| important piece of business, / gave every mo-
| ment OF my time to it and when l had COM
Pieted 1t returned at once to my family in
| washington. Since that time have been en-
| gagged III the rather strenuous domestic duty of
| removing into, furnishing and experimenting
| the decoration of a new house. and think any
| unprejudiced person who has done the same
| thing will certify that cannot have had much
| time to weigh $50 pounds" attire myself in
| strange outlandish costumes" 'hunger and
| thirst after attention" and ''amuse the metropo-
| us with my eccentricities of dress and be-
| havior.'
1t has for some time been the habit of unfor-
| tunate persons under discussion TO remain
silent, feeling that life is not long enough to
allow of repl lying to false statements but it has
| latterjy appeared to me that point NAV be
| reached where some protest is due to ones
| friends if not to oneself. Nv object in writing
the present letter is direct one 1 appear
before the public merely Ito ask for Informal
| tlon after the manner of Miss Rosa Dartle
Like Miss Dartle Il may be wrong-but want
ed to know" The question would put Is this
and put 1t first to the editors of respectable
Journals, and next to the public which reads
| such journals:
Is 1T, or Is 1t not, of consequence that state
ment published and copied all over the United
| States Is untrue in every word and detail?
Does 1t, or does it not, matter IN the least that
| a man or woman who has done honest and re-
| spectacle work should on that account feel that
his or her character, good taste and good man.
! ners may be impugned at SO much a line in any
newspaper? Does it not matter that such an
| SduuOt i've u lie SO SIMPLE, SO Sc
| Guided and SO well-meaning as to escape the
most grotesque Misrepresentation? / ask
| these questions not only for myself. but for a
number of modest respectable persons who
nave had the misfortune to write popular
| DOCK or play, or to occupy prominent posi-
| ton. They are questions have heard dis
| cussed with strong feeling by such people,
who have all agreed that they present a serious
problem 1t is time to face practically. When
an article is presented at an editorial Office is
4 Its truth nntruth IFS instica
nifty. entirely Indifferent to the purchaser?
| viii some journalist of established reputation
answer this question? put it with all mod
esty and respect for journalism.
have before me an unsigned article pub
| l1shed in New York newspaper on Sunday
January 6. 1t is monument of fiction. /
| offer this comment to the paper which pub
llshed, the person who wrote and the public
that read it. would at this moment cheerfully
pay the writer's expenses to Washington, and
add check four times as large as the one he
| received IN payment for the work. if he would
come and tell me candidly and simply what his
mental attitude was when he wrote il. This is
! not a jest. l am interested in the solving of a
problem which affects scores of people of much
greater Importance than myself-people whose
work and worth entitle them to the respect and
| consideration of the country which processes
to be proud OF them and of what they have ac-
| complished.
| The letter that refer to is so untrue that il
Is fascinating. Two things in it are not false.
| The first that / am an uninteresting person.
whom it pays nobody to converse with. This
admit cheerfully. Having realized it early in
| life, have resigned myself to it. and hence
| have never endeavored to be either instructive
| or sparkling. 1t is nothing when one is accus-
| toned to it. The redeeming feature to the ca
| lanity is that sometimes seem to get along
| quite well with indulgent people who though
| brilliant themselves. would think it rather a
bore to be called upon to be erudite at an after
noon tea or with a string band playing within
6 feet of them. The second true thing is that
the credit of inviting the orphan children to
| the theater is not mine. but Mr.. Sangers. If it
were mine l should be glad. and if it is true
| that the plan was suggested by the kind act of
young woman. my admiration for that young
| lady is very warm.
For the rest, the latter begins with an as
| founding statement concerning my domestic
relations. The number of my family who
would be missing if it were true is at the pres
ent moment. believe, reading in an adjoining
room. 1t says / am harsh to women. This
may perhaps account for my being continually
| surrounded by a number Of the very dearest
and kindest, and for all my business affairs
being in woman's hands. 1t describes me as
encircled by an army of young men. am en-
circled by an army of two young men--aged re-
| spectively twelve and fourteen. They draw
themselves up in battalions and form them
selves into hollow squares, and am
| rather popular with them. I have no
other masculine acquaintance who are
not older than myself-which gives them an
excellent opportunity to be of ripe years. An
interesting picture is drawn of my having been