2 - Juliana Horatia Ewing

Summary

I have lived in sunshine all my life.

(Letter to Mrs Gatty, 23 August 1868)

Of the four subjects of this study, Ewing was the least rebellious, the most dutiful, the most self-effacing, with the kindest, happiest nature. A range of sources, including her private letters and diaries and contemporary reviews, paint a picture of a woman who was non-grasping, non-pushy, quietly uncomplaining always. She shines as an example of a lady, the epitome of mid-nineteenth-century female perfection. Her character and the mores of her time fitted each other like a well-cut glove, so that a biographical exploration of her life and works acts not only as an insight into the far-off visions of a vanished age, but also the reason why her books form no part of the present classical canon of children's literature. Of the four, she is the most forgotten. Nothing of her work remains in print for children, though she has always had her adult critical fans. ‘Her works are likely to appeal to the sort of child who will, when grown-up, appreciate Jane Austen. If children today fail to find [validity in her values] the fault is not with Mrs Ewing.’ Ewing was fatally representative of the Victorian fragile female image. She was as frail as she was good, and died aged 44. In true Victorian style of secrets behind closed doors, the exact nature of her last disease was never revealed. Perhaps it was never fully known. Throughout her life her ill health was variously and vaguely diagnosed, and though she had the best opinions, including Queen Victoria's doctor, medical knowledge could not help her.

JERUSALEM THE GOLDEN

There was of course more to Juliana Ewing than a cardboard stereotype of revered Victorian womanhood. Beneath this mantle, she was spirited, bossy and courageous, characteristics inherited from her immediate forebears. Her maternal grandfather was Alexander Scott (1768-1840) a remarkable linguist, heroically adventurous, and chaplain to Nelson. Scott served on board the Victory at Trafalger, and held the dying admiral in his arms. He left such momentous experiences to become an obscure country clergyman, so poor that the parents of the girl he fell in love with, Mary Ryder, refused to let them marry. Undaunted, they eloped. Four years later, Mary died, leaving two daughters, Horatia and Margaret.