"I know not what I say!": Female Self-Censoring in Burney's "The Witlings"

Wow, nice hat you have there Fanny...








Reading Frances Burney's The Witlings (1779), I found myself thinking a lot about the idea of self-censorship and the fear of publicity among women. Barbara Darby's article "Censored Women: The Witlings" includes two interesting passages from Burney's letter to her sister following the eager reception of her novel Evelina:

“But pray for me, my dear Susy, that Heaven may spare me the Horror irrecoverable of personal abuse.—Let them Criticise, cut, slash, without mercy my Book,--& let them neglect me,--but may God avert my becoming a public Theme of Ridicule” (Early Journal and Letters, 3:163), and "I would a thousand Times rather forfeit my character as a Writer, than risk ridicule or censure as a Female" (ELJ, 3:212).

I definitely saw women's fears of hostile public reactions to their words and deeds as an important running theme of The Witlings. The obvious public humiliation is of course Lady Smatter's, who is punished with humiliation in front of the group, and warned about future public degradation by the spread of Censor's insulting verses. I was especially struck by Dabler's words, “we men do not suffer in the World by Lampoons as the poor Ladies do;--they, indeed, may be quite—quite ruined by them” (V.824-826). Indeed, Mrs. Voluble claims that "when one's own reputation is at stake" (V.503), any actions one takes to protect it are justfied... even betraying Mrs. Sapient.

Cecilia, on shaky ground after having lost her fortune and been encouraged to seek other "resources," seems fearful in everything she says, muttering, "I know not what I say!--I can talk no longer; pray excuse my incoherence" (III.590-591), and "...leave me to myself, I beseech you! I can neither speak or listen to you;--pray go,--pray--alas, I know not what I say!" (III.863-865). So shaken is she by her exclusion from her social circle, that she worries about committing words to speech and falling further in public estimation.

I came across a passage from Burney's diary which sounds oddly similar to Cecilia's words. In this case, Burney fears committing her opinions about sexual attraction to paper:

"Bless me--how I run on! foolish and ill-judged! ...mere giddiness, not inclination, I am sure penned it... but indeed I write so much at random, that it is much more a chance if I know what I am saying than if I do not." (The Early Diary of Frances Burney, 1768-1778, ed. Annie Raine Ellis, 2 vols. London, 1889, I. 10.)

There seems to be a lot of truth to Darby's assertion that Burney's theatrical world "where reputations and security are contingent on male authority" (Darby 40) has parallels to the reality of "the fateful suppression of her play" by her male guardians. Just as there are "no spaces of privacy or protection for the women in this play," it seems that not even a diary was private enough in this author's life.



Photo from the world premiere of The Witlings, Main Street Theatre, Houston, 1998.