ELIZABETH CRAVEN AND HER WORLD

Elizabeth Craven: A Georgian Feminist, by Julia Gasper 3rd January 2018 Elizabeth Craven (1750-1828) is a writer who is remembered today for her travelogue, an account of a protracted tour of Europe and the Levant made in 1785-6, and her  Memoirs  written in later life.  (1) What the travelogue does not mention is that she was making her journey in the company of a lover, and in her  Memoirs  she was careful to avoid mentioning him or any of the others who had earned her a scandalous reputation. However, she wrote far more than is generally known – poems, plays, stories and letters – and some of her most important works are overlooked. When we factor these back in we get a very different picture, and find that Craven was actually one of the most outspoken contemporaries of Mary Wollstonecraft and Mary Robinson. In 1784, having been driven from England by scandal, after a marital break-up and many much-talked-about love-affairs, she wrote...

Brandenburgh house from The Beauties of England and Wales by John Britton. The text of this allegory is preserved in the British Library. The original edition is simply entitled "Prelude," and it is not attributed in the catalogue to Elizabeth Craven. However, there can be no doubt that she is the author. It appears to be the first work of Elizabeth Craven's that was performed in her celebrated private theatre at Brandenburgh House in Hammersmith, Middlesex in what is now London.  The work can be firmly dated to 1793 because of its allusions to the outbreak of war between Britain and France, and also from its verses dedicating the theatre to the Muse Thalia, and pronouncing a benediction over it. The text below has been edited and corrected. Brandenburgh House from the River Thames. The theatre is visible on the left of the picture.   An Allegorical Masque, performed at Brandenburgh House in 1793, written by Elizabeth Craven, Margravine of Ans...

In the anthology Poems on various subjects , edited by Thomas Tomkins in 1804, we find “A Prayer for Indifference” by Mrs Greville.[1] Sweet airy being, wanton sprite, That lurk'st in woods unseen, And oft by Cynthia's silver light Trip'st gaily o'er the green; Oh! deign once more t'exert thy power; Haply some herb or tree, Sov’reign as juice of western flower, Conceals a balm for me. I ask no kind return of love, No tempting charm to please: Far from the heart those gifts remove, That sighs for peace and ease. Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, Which, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, - But, turning, trembles too. Far as distress the soul can wound, 'Tis pain in each degree: 'Tis bliss but to a certain bound; Beyond, is agony. Take then this treacherous sense of mine, Which dooms me still to smart: Which pleasure can to pain refine; To pains new pangs impart. Oh, haste to shed the sacred balm, My s...