The predecessor to Austen, Eliot, and the Brontes; Bill Mauldin; and why bees exist: newsletter, Nov. 2, 2018

November 5, 2018 | By Jim Stovall | Filed in: journalism, newsletter.

 This newsletter was emailed to everyone on Jim’s email list (3) on October 19, 2018

About veterans: Someone put it to me this way: No matter what you ended up doing, if you were in the military service, at some point you pledged to give everything you had to your country, even if that meant your life.

This month includes Veterans Day, a special day set aside in America to recognize those who have been in military service. (Full disclosure: that includes me. [U.S. Navy, 1970-1974]) Although I sometimes think we overdo it a bit, that recognition is an honorable and positive sign for our nation. The military is one of the things that unites us even though we may disagree with its use and actions.

In that vein, we will pay some attention to veterans during the next few weeks in this newsletter. Check out the first entry below, the one about cartoonist Bill Mauldin, who has always been one of my secret heroes. There’s also something about Winston Churchill, who was a military man before he was just about anything else.

Meanwhile, I hope, too, you’ve had a wonderful week and are looking forward to a great weekend.


Important: Remember to open the images or click on one of the links so that my email service will record your engagement and you will stay active on the list. Thanks.

Fanny Burney paved the way for Jane Austen and the Brontes

Before there was Jane Austen, before there was George Eliot, before there were Charlotte and Emily Bronte — before even women were supposed to be able to write in this new developing form called a novel — there was Fanny Burney (1752-1840).

Burney, daughter of Dr. Charles Burney, a well-known scholar and music teacher of the second half of the 18th century, published Evelina in 1778 when she was 26 years old, but she did so anonymously. Only a very small cadre of family and friends knew of her authorship, and that group did not include her father, whose opinion she valued the most and whose displeasure would have devastated her.

Fanny’s novel chronicles the entrance of a young girl into the world of 18th century London and is a hilarious and satirical send-up of the manners and customs of the time. She shows a wicked sense of humor and an ear for the dialects and dialogue of the time.

Once her book became available, it flew out of the bookshops and became the rage of London and beyond.

Leading literary lights —  including Dr. Samuel Johnson among many others — showered praise on the book. Charles Burney knew of the book before he knew of its author. Once he was told, to Fanny’s relief, he pronounced himself proud of her success and encourage and supported her writing.

Fanny kept extensive and detailed journals, and in the following passage, she expresses the trepidation that a new writer has about having his or her work read by the general public. 

My little book, I am told, is now at all the circulating libraries. I have an exceeding odd sensation when I consider that it is now in the power of any and every body to read what I so carefully hoarded even from my best friends, till this last month or two; and that a work which was so lately lodged, in all privacy, in my bureau, may now be seen by every butcher and baker, cobbler and tinker, throughout the three kingdoms, for the small tribute of threepence.

That passage can be found in Fanny Burney: A Biography by Claire Harman — a book that reveals Fanny Burney not just as a ground-breaking novelist but as one of the most remarkable women of the 18th century. Burney published three more novels, eight plays, and many volumes of her journals. She was a member of the royal court of George III during the year of his madness. She married a Frenchman, and then was trapped in Paris during the Napoleonic wars.

Fanny showed courage all of her life in breaking through the customs that prevented women from reaching their full potential. Nowhere is her courage more evident, however, that when she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1810 and underwent a mastectomy (without anesthetic) nearly two years later. In a letter to her sister, she wrote a detailed account of the operation — an unheard of act in those days. The operation saved her life, and she lived for nearly 30 years afterwards. Her letter was published after her death in 1840.

Burney’s work — her intricate plots and her detailed characterizations — influenced Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and just about every other British writer of the 19th century.

Just to give you a taste of what Fanny’s novel Eveline is about, below the signature of this email are the first two chapters taken from the copies on Project Gutenberg:


The purpose of the honeybee

Bees give us honey. It’s a wonderful food, and many people make a living by harvesting and selling honey.

Bees also pollinate many of our crops. Some estimate that up to 30 percent of what we eat is on our tables because of honeybees.

Important as these activities are to humans, neither is central to the purpose of honeybees — if you look at it from the bee’s perspective.

So what is? The central purpose of honeybees is the same as it is for all life on earth: to procreate.

You won’t find this is any books on how to keep bees. In fact, most beekeeping books will point you in exactly the opposite direction.

To understand this requires an understanding of a fundamental fact about honeybees. Honeybees do not live alone; they live in colonies or hives. Consequently, for honeybees to survive, they need to create new hives, not just new bees. A hive of bees will create a new hive by first producing a new queen.

What provokes a hive to do this is not well understood by apiarists. What we do know is that this is most likely to happen in the spring as the blooming season begins.

When a new queen is created, the old queen leaves the hive and takes some percentage of the bees with her. It could be as little as 25 percent or as much as 75 percent. Those bees fly out of the hive creating a swarm (see photo). Some apiarists term this process as “casting a swarm.”

That swarm alights in a tree limb or some other place and begins a search for a new home. If a beekeeper is lucky — that is, if the beekeeper can find the swarm and if it accessible (not too high in the tree) — the beekeeper can capture the swarm and provide a place for it, thus creating a new hive for the apiary. If the beekeeper can’t get to the swarm, it will find its own home, usually in the cavity of a hollow tree.

Once the swarm has settled into its new home, it will begin the process that will eventually lead it to casting another swarm. Meanwhile, the bees that were left in the original hive have a new queen. They, too, will begin the process of casting another swarm.

So where do beekeepers go wrong?

Most beekeeping books — and the beekeeping culture in general — counsel beekeepers on how to prevent swarms. The reason: when a hive casts a swarm, its ability to produce honey for that season is greatly reduced. Since many beekeepers sell their honey — and some make quite a good income from it — losing part of a hive to a swarm is not viewed as a positive thing.

In truth, however, the techniques that beekeepers have for preventing swarms are probably only marginally effective, if at all. Bees will swarm if the colony decides that what it should do. That’s what bees do. That’s how they stay alive.

For more information about swarms, take a look at Thomas Seeley‘s wonderful book, Honeybee Democracy. You will be mesmerized by the way that a swarm of bees decides on where its new home should be.


The Prolific Reader. Kill the Quarterback is listed there along with some other great mysteries.”


Bill Mauldin, the voice of the “grunt”

Those who served in the United States military as enlisted men and women — particularly from World War II through Vietnam — have a particular affinity for Bill Mauldin.

Mauldin was an artist whose cartoons depicted, with brilliant perception, brutal honesty, and insightful humor, the life of the everyday “grunt,” the guy who dug the ditches, moved the equipment, and generally got things done while the officers were taking the credit. No one knew the grunts better than Willie and Joe, the characters that Mauldin created to depict the lives of these weary and bedraggled guys.

Mauldin joined in 1940 the Army after taking some art courses at the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts, and he soon volunteered to draw cartoons for his division’s newspaper. That’s when he developed the Willie and Joe characters. Mauldin’s division participated in the invasion of Italy in 1943, and Mauldin started submitting cartoons to Stars and Stripes, an independent newspaper that served the armed forces in Europe.

Eventually, newspaper readers back in America began seeing Mauldin’s cartoons — something the U.S. War Office supported since they indicated that final victory for the Allies would be slow, grinding work.

Mauldin never shifted his point of view, always seeing life from the eyes of the enlisted man. His characters were unshaven, weary, and irreverent; they did not fit into the spit-and-polish image that many officers believed the Army should be showing to the public.

That irritated many officers, of course, and one of those officers was General George Patton. When Mauldin satirized Patton’s order that everyone in his army should be clean-shaven, Patton threated to jail Mauldin and ban Stars and Stripes. General Dwight Eisenhower, understanding that Mauldin’s cartoons were good for morale, told Patton to back off and leave Mauldin alone.

“I know that the pictures in this book have offended some people, and I don’t blame a lot of them,” he wrote after the war. “Some men in the army love their profession, and without those men to build the army we’d be in a sad fix. Some of them I do blame, because the pictures don’t offend the pride in their profession — they only puncture their stiff shirt fronts. I love to draw pictures that offend such guys, because it’s fun to hear them squawk.”

At the end of the war, Mauldin was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for the body of his work. He was 23 years old.

Mauldin continued to draw cartoons and work in journalism for the next 40 years. He worked for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and the Chicago Sun-Times, but his cartoons were widely syndicated. He also drew for Life magazine and wrote and published a number of books. He received a second Pulitzer in 1959.

He died in 2003, and in 2010 the U.S. Postal Service honored him with a stamp depicting him and his most famous characters. So, when you next celebrate Veterans Day, think a bit about Willie and Joe.

The best collection of Mauldin’s wartime cartoons is his book Upfront, which was published right after the war. Several editions are still available.


Winston Churchill: yet another biography — but just what we need

By Andrew Roberts’ count, there are slightly more than 1,000 biographies of Winston Churchill. That’s one for almost every page of his massive new biography Churchill: Walking with Destiny.

So, why write another one — particularly one of such length. Surely by now, we should be able to reduce Churchill to just three or four hundred pages to do him justice.

Not really, according to Roberts, a prize-winning historian whose specialty is the World War II era. There are lots of new sources, he says, most particularly the diaries of King George VI, which have recently become available. (You can hear Roberts discussing the book on a podcast at HistoryExtra, the BBC’s history magazine.)

Besides that, Churchill remains an enormous figure in the history of Great Britain and the world. His successes were nothing less than astonishing, and his failures were spectacular. He was in public life for more than 60 years and near the center of events for much of that time. His actions and decisions are still having tangible consequences.

In addition, every generation has to re-evaluate the great men and women of its history. In that way, we make their stories our own.

So, yes. Another biography of Churchill. Just what we need — especially now.

Roberts’ book has been well reviewed by The Guardian, among other publications.



Joyce L.: I got a big laugh out of the Chesterton-Shaw repartee.  Interesting nuggets all around.

Mike P.: Thank you for the update on the Norwegian resistance fighter. I am really sorry to hear that the last of that brave group of fighters has passed. They saved the world from some great destruction, and most people have never heard of them or what we owe them. I really look forward to your newsletters; they are a fountain of information and entertainment.

Tod: The Telemark story added something to my sparse knowledge of that raid. The whole thing was made into a movie, The Heroes of Telemark, starring Kirk Douglas. No mention was made of Ronneberg, which I confirmed by looking up the cast list. Thanks for the tidbits.


Finally . . .

This week’s drawing: Bill Mauldin (graphite)

Best quote of the week:

Certainly none of the advances made in civilization has been due to counterrevolutionaries and advocates of the status quo. Bill Mauldin (1921-2003) 

Helping those in need

Hurricanes on the coasts and a tsunami in the Pacific. All over and in between, people in this world need help. This weekly reminder to all of us (especially me) that the needs are never completely met takes on special urgency.

It’s not complicated. Things happen to people, and we should be ready to do all the good we can in all of the ways we can. (Some will recognize that I am paraphrasing John Wesley here).

When is the last time you gave to your favorite charity? The United Methodist Committee on Relief ( is my favorite charity. Please make a contribution to this one or to yours.

Keep reading, keep writing (especially to me), and have a great weekend.


Jim Stovall

You can connect with Jim on FacebookTwitterLinkedin, and BookBub.

His Amazon author page is where you can find more information about his books.

Last week’s newsletter: Webster, Chesterton, a World War II hero, and a clock that hasn’t quit for 600 years: newsletter, Oct. 26, 2018





Fanny Burney



CAN any thing, my good Sir, be more painful to a friendly mind, than a necessity of communicating disagreeable intelligence? Indeed it is sometimes difficult to determine, whether the relator or the receiver of evil tidings is most to be pitied.

I have just had a letter from Madame Duval; she is totally at a loss in what manner to behave; she seems desirous to repair the wrongs she has done, yet wishes the world to believe her blameless. She would fain cast upon another the odium of those misfortunes for which she alone is answerable. Her letter is violent, sometimes abusive, and that of you!-you, to whom she is under obligations which are greater even than her faults, but to whose advice she wickedly imputes all the sufferings of her much injured daughter, the late Lady Belmont. The chief purport of her writing I will acquaint you with; the letter itself is not worthy your notice.

She tells me that she has, for many years past, been in continual expectation of making a journey to England, which prevented her writing for information concerning this melancholy subject, by giving her hopes of making personal inquiries; but family occurrences have still detained her in France, which country she now sees no prospect of quitting. She has, therefore, lately used her utmost endeavors to obtain a faithful account of whatever related to her ill-advised daughter; the result of which giving her some reason to apprehend, that, upon her death-bed, she bequeathed an infant orphan to the world, she most graciously says, that if you, with whom she understands the child is placed, will procure authentic proofs of its relationship to her, you may sent it to Paris, where she will properly provide for it.

This woman is, undoubtedly, at length, self-convicted of her most unnatural behaviour; it is evident, from her writing, that she is still as vulgar and illiterate as when her first husband, Mr. Evelyn, had the weakness to marry her; nor does she at all apologize for addressing herself to me, though I was only once in her company.

Her letter has excited in my daughter Mirvan, a strong desire to be informed of the motives which induced Madame Duval to abandon the unfortunate Lady Belmont, at a time when a mother’s protection was peculiarly necessary for her peace and her reputation. Notwithstanding I was personally acquainted with all the parties concerned in that affair, the subject always appeared of too delicate a nature to be spoken of with the principals; I cannot, therefore, satisfy Mrs. Mirvan otherwise than by applying to you.

By saying that you may send the child, Madame Duval aims at conferring, where she most owes obligation. I pretend not to give you advice; you, to whose generous protection this helpless orphan is indebted for every thing, are the best and only judge of what she ought to do; but I am much concerned at the trouble and uneasiness which this unworthy woman may occasion you.

My daughter and my grandchild join with me in desiring to be most kindly remembered to the amiable girl; and they bid me remind you, that the annual visit to Howard Grove, which we were formerly promised, has been discontinued for more than four years. I am, dear Sir, with great regard, Your most obedient friend and servant, M. HOWARD.




YOUR Ladyship did but too well foresee the perplexity and uneasiness of which Madame Duval’s letter has been productive. However, I ought rather to be thankful that I have so many years remained unmolested, than repine at my present embarrassment; since it proves, at least, that this wretched woman is at length awakened to remorse.

In regard to my answer, I must humbly request your Ladyship to write to this effect: “That I would not, upon any account, intentionally offend Madame Duval; but that I have weighty, nay unanswerable reasons for detaining her grand-daughter at present in England; the principal of which is, that it was the earnest desire of one to whose will she owes implicit duty. Madame Duval may be assured, that she meets with the utmost attention and tenderness; that her education, however short of my wishes, almost exceeds my abilities; and I flatter myself, when the time arrives that she shall pay her duty to her grand-mother, Madame Duval will find no reason to be dissatisfied with what has been done for her.”

Your Ladyship will not, I am sure, be surprised at this answer. Madame Duval is by no means a proper companion or guardian for a young woman: she is at once uneducated and unprincipled; ungentle in temper, and unamiable in her manners. I have long known that she has persuaded herself to harbour an aversion for me-Unhappy woman! I can only regard her as an object of pity!

I dare not hesitate at a request from Mrs. Mirvan; yet, in complying with it, I shall, for her own sake, be as concise as I possibly can; since the cruel transactions which preceded the birth of my ward can afford no entertainment to a mind so humane as her’s.

Your Ladyship may probably have heard, that I had the honour to accompany Mr. Evelyn, the grandfather of my young charge, when upon his travels, in the capacity of a tutor. His unhappy marriage, immediately upon his return to England, with Madame Duval, then a waiting-girl at a tavern, contrary to the advice and entreaties of all his friends, among whom I was myself the most urgent, induced him to abandon his native land, and fix his abode in France. Thither he was followed by shame and repentance; feelings which his heart was not framed to support; for, notwithstanding he had been too weak to resist the allurements of beauty, which nature, though a niggard to her of every other boon, had with a lavish hand bestowed on his wife; yet he was a young man of excellent character, and, till thus unaccountably infatuated, of unblemished conduct. He survived this ill-judged marriage but two years. Upon his death-bed, with an unsteady hand, he wrote me the following note:

“My friend, forget your resentment, in favour of your humanity;-a father, trembling for the welfare of his child, bequeaths her to your care. O Villars! hear! pity! And relieve me!”

Had my circumstances permitted me, I should have answered these words by an immediate journey to Paris; but I was obliged to act by the agency of a friend, who was upon the spot, and present at the opening of the will.

Mr. Evelyn left to me a legacy of a thousand pounds, and the sole guardianship of his daughter’s person till her eighteenth year; conjuring me, in the most affecting terms, to take the charge of her education till she was able to act with propriety for herself; but, in regard to fortune, he left her wholly dependent on her mother, to whose tenderness he earnestly recommended her.

Thus, though he would not, to a woman low-bred and illiberal as Mrs. Evelyn, trust the conduct and morals of his daughter, he nevertheless thought proper to secure to her the respect and duty to which, from her own child, were certainly her due; but unhappily, it never occurred to him that the mother, on her part, could fail in affection or justice.

Miss Evelyn, Madam, from the second to the eighteenth year of her life, was brought up under my care, and, except when at school under my roof. I need not speak to your Ladyship of the virtues of that excellent young creature. She loved me as her father; nor was Mrs. Villars less valued by her; while to me she became so dear, that her loss was little less afflicting than that which I have since sustained of Mrs. Villars herself.

At that period of her life we parted; her mother, then married to Monsieur Duval, sent for her to Paris. How often have I since regretted that I did not accompany her thither! Protected and supported by me, the misery and disgrace which awaited her might perhaps have been avoided. But, to be brief-Madame Duval, at the instigation of her husband, earnestly, or rather tyrannically, endeavoured to effect a union between Miss Evelyn and one of his nephews. And, when she found her power inadequate to her attempt, enraged at her non-compliance, she treated her with the grossest unkindness, and threatened her with poverty and ruin.

Miss Evelyn, to whom wrath and violence had hitherto been strangers, soon grew weary of such usage; and rashly, and without a witness, consented to a private marriage with Sir John Belmont, a very profligate young man, who had but too successfully found means to insinuate himself into her favour. He promised to conduct her to England-he did.-O, Madam, you know the rest!-Disappointed of the fortune he expected, by the inexorable rancour of the Duvals, he infamously burnt the certificate of their marriage, and denied that they had ever been united.

She flew to me for protection. With what mixed transports of joy and anguish did I again see her! By my advice, she endeavoured to procure proofs of her marriage-but in vain; her credulity had been no match for his art.

Every body believed her innocent, from the guiltless tenor of her unspotted youth, and from the known libertinism of her barbarous betrayer. Yet her sufferings were too acute for her slender frame; and the same moment that gave birth to her infant, put an end at once to the sorrows and the life of its mother.

The rage of Madame Duval at her elopement, abated not while this injured victim of cruelty yet drew breath. She probably intended, in time, to have pardoned her; but time was not allowed. When she was informed of her death, I have been told, that the agonies of grief and remorse, with which she was seized, occasioned her a severe fit of illness. But, from the time of her recovery to the date of her letter to your Ladyship, I had never heard that she manifested any desire to be made acquainted with the circumstances which attended the death of Lady Belmont, and the birth of her helpless child.

That child, Madam, shall never, while life is lent me, know the loss she has sustained. I have cherished, succoured, and supported her, from her earliest infancy to her sixteenth year; and so amply has she repaid my care and affection, that my fondest wish is now circumscribed by the desire of bestowing her on one who may be sensible of her worth, and then sinking to eternal rest in her arms.

Thus it has happened, that the education of the father, daughter, and grand-daughter, has devolved on me. What infinite misery have the two first caused me! Should the fate of the dear survivor be equally adverse, how wretched will be the end of my cares-the end of my days!

Even had Madame Duval merited the charge she claims, I fear my fortitude would have been unequal to such a parting; but being such as she is, not only my affection, but my humanity, recoils, at the barbarous idea of deserting the sacred trust reposed in me. Indeed, I could but ill support her former yearly visits to the respectable mansion at Howard Grove: pardon me, dear Madam, and do not think me insensible of the honour which your Ladyship’s condescension confers upon us both; but so deep is the impression which the misfortunes of her mother have made on my heart, that she does not, even for a moment, quit my sight without exciting apprehensions and terrors which almost overpower me. Such, Madam, is my tenderness, and such my weakness!-But she is the only tie I have upon earth, and I trust to your Ladyship’s goodness not to judge of my feelings with severity.

I beg leave to present my humble respects to Mrs. and Miss Mirvan; and have the honour to be, Madam, your Ladyship’s most obedient and most humble servant, ARTHUR VILLARS.

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