The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-04-17
FRANCES H. BURNETT.
Chat With the Novelist About
Herself and Her Work.
tITTLE LORD FAUNTLERoY AT I5
his Newspaper and the Book His Mother
II Writing for Hfm-The Realistic
school of Fiction.


Burnett, the novelist, is spending the
spring very quietly in Washington City.
She returned from England about the
first of March and she will remain here
tyuntil the summer, when she will leave
" the capital for the seashore or the mount
aims. She is in excellent health, and the
probability is that she will soon resume
her literary labors. As it is, she is turn
ing out some manuscript every day, and
the work she is engaged upon now is a
story of boys club in London, which she
is writing, strangely enough for her son
Vivian, and which will be published by
him in the little printing Office which
he is running in the base
ment OF her Massachusetts, avenue man.
sion. Vivian Burnett Is the original
Little Lord Fauntleroy. Mrs. Bur-
nett tells me the public and
the newspapers have made mistake
in supposing that she took the character
from her elder son Lionel, the boy who
died, and that the real original was
Vivian. She told me that Lionel fur
nished here and there paragraph in the
work, but that it was Vivian's personality
that led her to imagine how interesting
/. such boy would be in fiction, and that
Little Lord Fauntleroy was, in fact, q
vivid reproduction of him and his sayings.
1t will be interesting for the people to
know that the genuine Little Lord
Fauntleroy is still alive, and that he is
very much alive, too. He is now boy of
about Is or 16 years of age, and he is as
bright and manly a young fellow as
you will find at the capital. He is noted
for his tact and his kindheartedness. and
he has something of the literary bent SO
strongly shown in his mother. He is 60
ing to school here. but he publishes at the
same time little newspaper called The
Aoon, which gives all the social news
about the young people of Washington
City society and which on its editorial
page states that it is published in the in
y terest of the dancing class and its pupils
This paper is about the size of page of
foolscap, ane it costs cents per copy. 1t
is packed full of good news about the
! young people for whom it is published,
and is not a bad little newspaper.
Mrs. Burnett tells me that she thinks
the book she is writing for her son will be
avery interesting one, and she hopes it
will have wide circulation. He will have
his type set under his own supervision,
and the probability is that it will be taken
up by the book trade and will be sold
everywhere throughout the United States.
Mrs. Burnett gets the basis of her story
from club of poor boys in London. She
originated this club herself during her
stay there, in honor of her son Lionel,
who died, and she furnished it with
reading-room and library. The club is
one composed of poor boys, and the book
,hot haf full zf ctr r,1 (fI 4. 6
in London. Mrs. Burnett is very fond of
wrinng for children. During my call upon
her the other day asked her as to what she
considered her mission in writing, and she
told me that she felt that she was doing
the most good when she was writing good
books for children. She does not believe
in the realistic school of fiction, and she
says that the realism of today consists of
painting in all its horrors the vices of man.
kind. She believes that We should look at
the better side of man rather than his
worst side. and that by idealizing his
good qualities We can make those
who read about him better. This
Is especially the case with boys.
Every boy is naturally hero worshiper,
and even the worst boys try to initiate the
heroes they admire. LAS to being REFORM
err" said Mrs. Burnett, II am not one in
the sense of attempting special reforms
such as Charles Dickens or Charles Reade
did when they wrote of great public evils.
Dickens did great good by his pictures of
4 Dotheboy's hall and Oliver Twist, and
: Charles Reade opened the eyes of England
to the corruptions and cruelties of its in
sane asylums and prisons. In this line of
reform ! have done nothing and my
stories have not been written with such an
idea though l aim to do good in my own
way"
talked with Mrs. Burnett in her den
in the third story of her beautiful home on
Massachusetts, avenue. This home is a
large three-story house of pressed brick
and brown stone, with wide bay window
reaching from the ground to the roof 1t
is within q stones throw of Blaine's man
sion on Dupont circle, and il lies between
that and the big red brick of vice president
Morton, surrounded by the most hand
some houses of fashionable Washington
City. 1t is Just above Senator Van Wyck's
in which Chief Justice Fuller is now liv-
ing, and not far off from the homes of Lii
brarian Spofford and Senator Proctor.
You enter it by wide front door, and
md yourself in great hall filed
with old-fashioned furniture of carved
wood, some of which Mrs. Burnett picked
up in Italy. Rare old Turkish rugs lie
upon the floor. and at the right is the
parlor, furnished in blue and gold. Wind
ing stairs of Georgia pine conduct you by
many landings to the third floor, and here,
In large room, with its windows looking
out on Massachusetts, avenue, you find the
literary workshop of one of the most popu-
lar writer's of modern fiction. The room
looks more like one of ease and comfort
than one of hard work. There is a cosy
open fire. before which luxurious arm
chairs stand and invite repose. There is
adlvan in the window. and the hangings
of a ric n
touch of yellow, and the whole foor-a
strange thing in Washington City, where
rugs are all the go--is carpeted. The walls
are hung with pictures, and on the mantel
are photographs of Mrs. Burnett's friends.
! Among others / noticed the face of Glad
stone. and Mrs. Burnett, in speaking of
him, characterized him as sweet old
man." At the side of the room there Is a
broad flat-top desk of oak, covered with
papers, but the seat in front of this is not
overly worn, and the papers upon II seem
10 De In very good order. There were,
however. some evidences of work. Mrs.
Burnett had been writing just before
came IN, and her manuscript lay upon the
table, with the ink hardly dry. She uses
acheap toolscap paper for her compost
ZION, and writes with a pen in sloping
epeneerian characters, making her copy
more like that of a schoolboy than the
me, delicate hand which is supposed to be
peculiar to women. She writes very easily,
and she tells me that her pen seems to
write the stories itself when she is in the
mood and has started it going. She
has never found it hard TO write,
and she turns out from ten 10
WE'VE of these foolscap pages day when
she Is doing her regular work, making. |
Judge, an average of about 1000 or :, 800
words per day. She has not done much
Tor the past four years. The death OF her