Fanny Trollope (1780–1863)
Author of Domestic Manners of the Americans
About the Author
Frances Trollope, the mother of the prolific mid-Victorian novelist Anthony Trollope, was an accomplished novelist and travel writer in her own right. In all, she was the author of 35 novels, many of them quite popular. Born the second daughter of a vicar, she was raised in the town of Bristol. In show more 1809 she married Thomas Trollope, a promising young barrister. Although Thomas had a profitable legal practice, a number of pecuniary crises strained the Trollopes financially. In 1827, partly in an attempt to escape her husband's sullenness over their money matters and partly to help rebuild the family's fortune, she took three of her six children to the United States, where she remained until 1830. There (in Cincinnati) she set up a retail store that was to provide this region of provincial America with European culture. When the scheme failed, Trollope turned to writing as a means of self-preservation. The result was Domestic Manners of the Americans, which was immensely popular, and The Refugee in America, her first novel, both published in 1832. Soon after she established a professional relationship with the publisher Richard Bentley, who went far to publicize her work. The finances of the family did not improve, however, and in 1835, finally bankrupt, the Trollopes moved to Belgium, where Thomas died. Frances's agreement with Bentley, who paid her $7600 per novel, and her remarkable output of two novels per year restored the family fortunes. During her life Trollope's fiction was considered rough and inelegant, and she was not a favorite of the critics. In recent years her work has begun to attract considerable attention for its insightful political and social analysis and its strong stand on issues of the day. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
Disambiguation Notice:
Do not confuse or combine her with her daughter-in-law Frances Eleanor Trollope, née Ternan (1835-1913), also a novelist.
Image credit: Image © ÖNB/Wien
Series
Works by Fanny Trollope
The life and adventures of Jonathan Jefferson Whitlaw; or Scenes on the Mississippi. With ... engravings (2010) 5 copies
Delphi Collected Works of Frances Trollope (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Seven Book 16) (2016) 4 copies
Vienna and the Austrians; with some account of a journey through Swabia, Bavaria, the Tyrol, and the Salzbourg (1837) 4 copies
A Visit to Italy 3 copies
The Old World and the New. A novel. 2 copies
A Romance of Vienna 2 copies
A Summer in Brittany — Editor — 1 copy
SST 83 - La vedova Barnaby I 1 copy
The life and adventures of a clever woman, illustrated with occasional extracts from her diary 1 copy
Uncle Walter 1 copy
Town and Country 1 copy
The Attractive Man 1 copy
A Visit to Italy, Volume II — Author — 1 copy
Associated Works
Nikolaus und Engelshaar : Weihnachten im alten Wien ; Geschichten & Bräuche zur schönsten Zeit des Jahres (2008) — Contributor — 1 copy
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Other names
- Milton, Frances (birth)
Trollope, Frances - Birthdate
- 1780-03-10
- Date of death
- 1863-10-06
- Gender
- female
- Occupations
- novelist
writer
social reformer
feminist - Relationships
- Trollope, Anthony (son)
Trollope, Thomas Adolphus (son)
Trollope, Frances Eleanor (daughter-in-law) - Short biography
- Frances Milton Trollope was a prolific English novelist and writer who often used her works as social commentary. In 1809, at age 30, she married Thomas A. Trollope, a lawyer with whom she had seven children. In 1827, she traveled to the USA and stayed at the experimental utopian community, Nashoba Commune, near Memphis, Tennessee. After her return to England, she began writing to help support her family. Her first book, Domestic Manners of the Americans (1832), was a bestseller and caused a sensation both in the UK and the USA for its unflattering view of American society. During her career, she published some 100 volumes. In the late 1830s, she moved to Florence, Italy, where she lived until her death.
- Nationality
- UK
- Birthplace
- Stapleton, Bristol, England, UK
- Places of residence
- Bristol, Gloucestershire, England, UK
Nashoba Commune, Germantown, Tennessee, USA
Cincinnati, Ohio, USA
Florence, Italy - Place of death
- Florence, Italy
- Burial location
- English Cemetery, Florence, Italy
- Disambiguation notice
- Do not confuse or combine her with her daughter-in-law Frances Eleanor Trollope, née Ternan (1835-1913), also a novelist.
Members
Reviews
I never saw any people who appeared to live so much without amusement as the Cincinnatians. Billiards are forbidden by law, so are cards. To sell a pack of cards in Ohio subjects the seller to a penalty of fifty dollars. They have no public balls, excepting, I think, six, during the Christmas holidays. They have no concerts. They have no dinner parties.
They have a theatre, which is, in fact, the only public amusement of this triste little town; but they seem to care little about it, and show more either from economy or distaste, it is very poorly attended. Ladies are rarely seen there, and by far the larger proportion of females deem it an offence against religion to witness the representation of a play. It is in the churches and chapels of the town that the ladies are to be seen in full costume; and I am tempted to believe that a stranger from the continent of Europe would be inclined, on first reconnoitering the city, to suppose that the places of worship were the theatres and cafes of the place.
Near the end of the book, the author devotes some time to discussing American reactions to a book by Captain Basil Hall, commenting on their inability to tolerate the slightest criticism of their country, and how it seemed as if everyone in the country had bought the book and was enraged at the calumnies of that despicable author. As I read this, I was picturing Fanny Trollope with dollar signs in her eyes and the sound of cash registers ringing (much like Scrooge McDuck in the cartoons). I am sure that she thought about her opinions on the uncouth citizens of American, with their constant spitting, strange ideas of how to run hotels and lack of enthusiasm for anything except politics and making money, and realised that she was perfectly capable of writing in bitchy, condescending and scornful tones, so why shouldn't she write a book that would infuriate the American public and make herself just as much money as Captain Hall had.
The Chatham is so utterly condemned by bon ton, that it requires some courage to decide upon going there; nor do I think my curiosity would have penetrated so far, had I not seen Miss Mitford's Rienzi advertised there. It was the first opportunity I had had of seeing it played, and spite of very indifferent acting, I was delighted. The interest must have been great, for till the curtain fell, I saw not one quarter of the queer things around me: then I observed in the front row of a dress-box a lady performing the most maternal office possible; several gentlemen without their coats, and a general air of contempt for thedecencies of life, certainly more than usually revolting.
This is actually a very readable book, as Fanny's bitchiness and condescension when discussing the people and their way of life contrasts with her descriptions of the beauties of the mountains, rivers, waterfalls and autumn foliage. And her scorn can cut to the heart of things when she compares the Americans' constant lauding of their freedom with their acceptance of slavery and the breaking of every legal agreement made with the Native Americans.
Had I, during my residence in the United States, observed any single feature in their national character that could justify their eternal boast of liberality and the love of freedom, I might have respected them, however much my taste might have been offended by what was peculiar in their manners and customs. But it is impossible for any mind of common honesty not to be revolted by the contradictions in their principles and practice. They inveigh against the governments of Europe, because, as they say, they favour the powerful and oppress the weak. You may hear this declaimed upon in Congress, roared out in taverns, discussed in every drawing-room, satirized upon the stage, nay, even anathematized from the pulpit: listen to it, and then look at them at home; you will see them with one hand hoisting the cap of liberty, and with the other flogging their slaves. You will see them one hour lecturing their mob on the indefeasible rights of man, and the next driving from their homes the children of the soil, whom they have bound themselves to protect by the most solemn treaties. show less
They have a theatre, which is, in fact, the only public amusement of this triste little town; but they seem to care little about it, and show more either from economy or distaste, it is very poorly attended. Ladies are rarely seen there, and by far the larger proportion of females deem it an offence against religion to witness the representation of a play. It is in the churches and chapels of the town that the ladies are to be seen in full costume; and I am tempted to believe that a stranger from the continent of Europe would be inclined, on first reconnoitering the city, to suppose that the places of worship were the theatres and cafes of the place.
Near the end of the book, the author devotes some time to discussing American reactions to a book by Captain Basil Hall, commenting on their inability to tolerate the slightest criticism of their country, and how it seemed as if everyone in the country had bought the book and was enraged at the calumnies of that despicable author. As I read this, I was picturing Fanny Trollope with dollar signs in her eyes and the sound of cash registers ringing (much like Scrooge McDuck in the cartoons). I am sure that she thought about her opinions on the uncouth citizens of American, with their constant spitting, strange ideas of how to run hotels and lack of enthusiasm for anything except politics and making money, and realised that she was perfectly capable of writing in bitchy, condescending and scornful tones, so why shouldn't she write a book that would infuriate the American public and make herself just as much money as Captain Hall had.
The Chatham is so utterly condemned by bon ton, that it requires some courage to decide upon going there; nor do I think my curiosity would have penetrated so far, had I not seen Miss Mitford's Rienzi advertised there. It was the first opportunity I had had of seeing it played, and spite of very indifferent acting, I was delighted. The interest must have been great, for till the curtain fell, I saw not one quarter of the queer things around me: then I observed in the front row of a dress-box a lady performing the most maternal office possible; several gentlemen without their coats, and a general air of contempt for thedecencies of life, certainly more than usually revolting.
This is actually a very readable book, as Fanny's bitchiness and condescension when discussing the people and their way of life contrasts with her descriptions of the beauties of the mountains, rivers, waterfalls and autumn foliage. And her scorn can cut to the heart of things when she compares the Americans' constant lauding of their freedom with their acceptance of slavery and the breaking of every legal agreement made with the Native Americans.
Had I, during my residence in the United States, observed any single feature in their national character that could justify their eternal boast of liberality and the love of freedom, I might have respected them, however much my taste might have been offended by what was peculiar in their manners and customs. But it is impossible for any mind of common honesty not to be revolted by the contradictions in their principles and practice. They inveigh against the governments of Europe, because, as they say, they favour the powerful and oppress the weak. You may hear this declaimed upon in Congress, roared out in taverns, discussed in every drawing-room, satirized upon the stage, nay, even anathematized from the pulpit: listen to it, and then look at them at home; you will see them with one hand hoisting the cap of liberty, and with the other flogging their slaves. You will see them one hour lecturing their mob on the indefeasible rights of man, and the next driving from their homes the children of the soil, whom they have bound themselves to protect by the most solemn treaties. show less
This book is a fantastic rant from a European (British) lady who visits the new(ish) lands of America and who doesn't much like the people she meets. It is the early-mid 1800s and Americans are proud of their independence, they are proud of their equality and freedom, and they want to keep it that way. Mrs Trollope however, sees uncouth and uncultured ways wherever she goes. Although she many times absolutely loves the picturesque and dramatic natural scenery, she cannot abide by the way show more that the Americans are.
She describes in great depth how far people will go to avoid thanking someone, or how most people seem too above menial work to be her maid or cleaner, and how everybody continually evokes this notion of equality when doing so. She picks to shreds the inconsistency with this notion and the existence of slaves, and the treatment of Native Americans. And she dislikes thoroughly the dress, facial expressions, and vernacular of the American women....they are not at all like they should be, in her mind. I loved reading this, the language was so beautiful, sometimes you were sure she must be paying a compliment with using such pretty language, but the message was passive/aggressive and very clear- Americans really ought to be more European.
It was funny to read, but also did lay out a lot of the foundations of how a new society consolidates. It is fascinating to consider the trajectory of American culture from this time onwards. She points out the obscene way that people are obsessed with making money (if only she could see the world now!), and the hypocrisy of religions that preach freedom and fairness so fervently while condoning slavery and lining their own pockets first. Although her ranty style is clearly opinionated, I liked her bold statements and have enough brain matter to consider for myself what her biases were or might have been. The book said as much about her and her lifestyle as it did about the Americans'. A rollicking good, if somewhat flowery, read. show less
She describes in great depth how far people will go to avoid thanking someone, or how most people seem too above menial work to be her maid or cleaner, and how everybody continually evokes this notion of equality when doing so. She picks to shreds the inconsistency with this notion and the existence of slaves, and the treatment of Native Americans. And she dislikes thoroughly the dress, facial expressions, and vernacular of the American women....they are not at all like they should be, in her mind. I loved reading this, the language was so beautiful, sometimes you were sure she must be paying a compliment with using such pretty language, but the message was passive/aggressive and very clear- Americans really ought to be more European.
It was funny to read, but also did lay out a lot of the foundations of how a new society consolidates. It is fascinating to consider the trajectory of American culture from this time onwards. She points out the obscene way that people are obsessed with making money (if only she could see the world now!), and the hypocrisy of religions that preach freedom and fairness so fervently while condoning slavery and lining their own pockets first. Although her ranty style is clearly opinionated, I liked her bold statements and have enough brain matter to consider for myself what her biases were or might have been. The book said as much about her and her lifestyle as it did about the Americans'. A rollicking good, if somewhat flowery, read. show less
I loved this book. It really gave me an insight into the roots of our culture. And make no mistake: this woman is spot-on. And she's still spot-on.
The problem and the thing that makes it a one of a kind gem is that it's told by an Englishwoman. The conceit that makes Trollope ridiculous is the idea that after leaving England, we would automatically want to be just like them. We'd travel in ships for months, fight the natives, make roads, FIGHT THEM OFF etc, and set up another England. And we show more would have it all neatly wrapped up in 200 years so "our grandmother the British" could feel right at home.
It's just silly. Europe took thousands of years to get where it was in the mid nineteenth century.
What makes this book an important part of history is the light it shines on both sides simultaneously. We are, well, ourselves. And she represents everything that was wrong with the Brits at the time-mainly the conceit of thinking theirs was the only way. At the time the Brits were vigorously making sure that "the sun never sets on the British Empire".
Did she not know that they sold us the slaves? The irony! Read this and know how blind one can be to one's own country. show less
The problem and the thing that makes it a one of a kind gem is that it's told by an Englishwoman. The conceit that makes Trollope ridiculous is the idea that after leaving England, we would automatically want to be just like them. We'd travel in ships for months, fight the natives, make roads, FIGHT THEM OFF etc, and set up another England. And we show more would have it all neatly wrapped up in 200 years so "our grandmother the British" could feel right at home.
It's just silly. Europe took thousands of years to get where it was in the mid nineteenth century.
What makes this book an important part of history is the light it shines on both sides simultaneously. We are, well, ourselves. And she represents everything that was wrong with the Brits at the time-mainly the conceit of thinking theirs was the only way. At the time the Brits were vigorously making sure that "the sun never sets on the British Empire".
Did she not know that they sold us the slaves? The irony! Read this and know how blind one can be to one's own country. show less
Mrs Trollope (the mother of Anthony) was one of the earliest and most enterprising members of the stream of European intellectuals who visited the USA in its early years and wrote about their experiences. She didn't originally set out to be a tourist, though: she travelled to darkest Tennessee with her children in 1828, intending to join Fanny Wright's Nashoba Commune. When she saw the commune, she packed her bags and left at once, appalled at the conditions there, and then found herself show more stranded in Cincinnati for a couple of years before she could raise the money to travel back to England. These circumstances are only vaguely hinted at in the book, but obviously go a long way to explain her generally negative impression of Americans and the United States.
Trollope's views aren't entirely negative, of course: she is full of admiration for much of the natural scenery she sees, and considers at least Washington, Philadelphia and New York to be very attractive cities, in their different ways. But she sees the "egalitarianism" of a society that keeps slaves and oppresses native Americans as repugnant and hypocritical, she is very scathing about the excesses of American religion, and (aptly, given the reception her book got in the US) teases Americans about the way their devotion to free speech crumbles if an outsider should venture to criticise their country. Perhaps that's not a uniquely American failing, though.
Mrs Trollope consciously tries to stick to social observation and does not get involved in detailed discussions of US politics. Her account of life in the mid-west in the 1830s makes it sound like Afghanistan under the Taliban, mutatis mutandis: American men are consistently described as ill-mannered, constantly spitting, putting their feet on the seats, gambling, and smelling of onions and whisky. They are also apparently devoted to the pursuit of the almighty dollar to the exclusion of all more aesthetic pursuits. Women are domestic drudges, tied to their kitchens and laundries because of the prejudice against working as domestic servants (by white people). If women ever go out, it is to attend endlessly long church services and revival meetings. Men and women are segregated rigorously in public places, and strict dress regulations are enforced on women (ankles may not be displayed). Pleasant diversions (theatre, art, music, education, etc.) are either banned by law, boycotted on prudish religious grounds, or avoided as a waste of time that could be employed in making money. In short, for a modern European reader seeking to have prejudices confirmed, it's a goldmine! show less
Trollope's views aren't entirely negative, of course: she is full of admiration for much of the natural scenery she sees, and considers at least Washington, Philadelphia and New York to be very attractive cities, in their different ways. But she sees the "egalitarianism" of a society that keeps slaves and oppresses native Americans as repugnant and hypocritical, she is very scathing about the excesses of American religion, and (aptly, given the reception her book got in the US) teases Americans about the way their devotion to free speech crumbles if an outsider should venture to criticise their country. Perhaps that's not a uniquely American failing, though.
Mrs Trollope consciously tries to stick to social observation and does not get involved in detailed discussions of US politics. Her account of life in the mid-west in the 1830s makes it sound like Afghanistan under the Taliban, mutatis mutandis: American men are consistently described as ill-mannered, constantly spitting, putting their feet on the seats, gambling, and smelling of onions and whisky. They are also apparently devoted to the pursuit of the almighty dollar to the exclusion of all more aesthetic pursuits. Women are domestic drudges, tied to their kitchens and laundries because of the prejudice against working as domestic servants (by white people). If women ever go out, it is to attend endlessly long church services and revival meetings. Men and women are segregated rigorously in public places, and strict dress regulations are enforced on women (ankles may not be displayed). Pleasant diversions (theatre, art, music, education, etc.) are either banned by law, boycotted on prudish religious grounds, or avoided as a waste of time that could be employed in making money. In short, for a modern European reader seeking to have prejudices confirmed, it's a goldmine! show less
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- Works
- 55
- Also by
- 5
- Members
- 860
- Popularity
- #29,750
- Rating
- 3.7
- Reviews
- 16
- ISBNs
- 123
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