[1] Published in 1815, when she was twenty, she prefaced The Veils with an introduction which gave a clear indication of her interests and education:—"The author, who considers herself a pupil of the Royal Institution, being at that time attending the Lectures given in Albemarle-Street, on Chemistry, Geology, Natural History, and Botany, by Sir Humphry Davy, Mr.

Brand, Dr. Roger (sic, for Roget), Sir James Edward Smith, and other eminent men, she was induced to combine these subjects with her story; and though her knowledge of them was in a great measure orally acquired, and therefore cannot pretend to be extensive or profound, yet, as it was derived from the best teachers, she hopes it will seldom be found incorrect."

It represents the regions of the four so-called elements, earth, air, fire, and water; and shows their active properties under the imagery of fabled inhabitants engaged in antagonistic struggles for supremacy.

"[2] In 1818, she met her future husband, John Franklin, on board his ship, HMS Trent, before his departure on David Buchan's British Naval North Polar Expedition.

Other prominent characters include Guy of Lusignan, Isabella of Jerusalem (portrayed as a femme fatale), and Conrad of Montferrat, whom she depicts as a flawed, tragic Byronic hero, in contrast with the unequivocally hostile treatment by her contemporary Walter Scott in The Talisman.

She also depicts Richard's former fiancée, Alasia of France, fighting for the Saracens as the female knight Zorayda, and being mortally wounded by her own son (fathered by Henry II).

Also in 1822, Franklin returned from the Arctic, her father died, and she ruptured a blood-vessel on the lungs, which increased an inherent tendency to consumption.

She wrote to him six months before the wedding:—"it was the pleasure of Heaven to bestow those talents on me, and it was my father's pride to cultivate them to the utmost of his power.

Mary Russell Mitford, in the introduction to her Dramatic Works, said:—[2]“It was during the run of Julian, that, seeing much of my dear friend, Miss Porden (afterwards married to Sir John Franklin), and talking with her of subjects for a fresh effort, one or the other, I hardly know which, hit upon ‘Rienzi.’ Miss Porden had herself written an heroic poem called Coeur de Lion, which, if anybody now-a-days could read an epic two volumes long, would be found remarkable as a promise; so she was far from being startled at my boldness, and took a vivid interest in my attempt.