Well, this is yet another novel taking aim at the follies of people in High Society. This three-volume novel lacks plot but is teeming with characters--more characters than you'll want to keep track of or care about. It is also filled with anecdotes of real-life nobility, under pseudonyms like Tumly St. Dragon Skeleton or Sir Jeremy Haphazzard, or ellisions such as Duke of Cl----e or Lady *****.  As an example, I recognized "Miss Linley Short" as the heiress Catherine Tylney Long who turned down a marriage proposal from the impoverished Duke of Clarence, later King William IV. There is also a lengthy section in volume II discussing "Lady Naples," who is none other than Emma, Lady Hamilton, the mistress of Lord Nelson. She is spotted shopping in a jeweler's. “That woman's as big as a whale,” sneers one character, while the other gives a sympathetic version of her life history. I did not chase down any other references.
       How wise Jane Austen was to refrain from this kind of thing. References to the scandals of the day or to famous personages would have dated her novels.
      In other words, this novel purveys gossip, salacious and otherwise, and even features lots of Regency slang. Now, here is the tricky bit--much of the gossip is disguised as not-gossip because it's presented along with moralizing. We're only talking about folly, dissipation, and immorality so as to hold the mirror up to vice, folks!...

    I was happy to crack open another novel by Mary Charlton because, of all the novelists of this era that I’ve read so far, her style most resembles Jane Austen. That is, some Austenesque free indirect narration and a wry sense of humour is on display in her gothic satire, Rosella, which I’ve reviewed here.
     Because The Wife and the Mistress (1802) is not a satire, Charlton does not get to deploy her wit as well as she did in Rosella. There is some dark, slashing satire aimed at the decadent noblemen and women at the heart of the story.   The heroine of The Wife and the Mistress is neither the wife nor the mistress; Laura Delaunie is the daughter of the Mistress, who is discarded and paid off by Lord Bellingham when he is captivated by the young daughter of Lady Melville, a scheming society woman. I was surprised at how sympathetically the mistress was portrayed. She does not go off to die of misery and remorse. She withdraws to a quiet village, starts her life over, gets married, and is even accepted by her husband’s family because she gently curbs his financial irresponsibility. She brings up her daughter Laura in the path of virtue and gives her a good education as well. So the Mistress is treated gently by the author while mother-in-law Lady Melville is the villain of the piece. Laura's childhood takes up much of the first volume.

    In March of 1807, publisher Benjamin Crosby was incensed with a rival publisher, J.F. Hughes. Just as Crosby was bringing out A Winter in Bath, his own entry into the fashionable “Season” novel genre, Hughes advertised a book with the copy-cat title A Winter at Bath. In fact, Crosby accuses Hughes of using the same title, A Winter in Bath, but I don't know if Hughes ever advertised his version or sold it under any other title than A Winter AT Bath.
  At any rate, Crosby took out large advertisements, threatening to sue Hughes. Hughes just laughed in return. His novel was from the “chaste and classical pen of Mrs. Bayfield,” and he questioned why A Winter in Bath was advertised merely as being “by the author of two popular novels.” Why so coy, Crosby? Hughes’s advertisements said things like: “Mrs. Bayfield disclaims all connection with an Anonymous Publication, of nearly the same title; and the Publisher invites the Public to read both competitions, and judge,” or “Be careful to ask for Mrs. Bayfield’s as there is another without the Author’s name.”

    The following year, Hughes brought out another “season” novel, City Nobility, or, A Summer at Margate, and, just to wind Crosby up even more, he advertised it as being by the author of “two popular novels.” With sneer quotes, even. Oh Hughes, you scamp.
    Hughes often used copy-cat author’s names or titles to trick the public into thinking they were buying a novel by a best-selling authoress like Frances Burney or Ann Radcliffe, or a famous gothic novel like The Monk. His business didn’t prosper in any event, because he declared bankruptcy more than once and he seems to have made enemies in the publishing community.
    At any rate, I thought I would read City Nobility or a Summer at Margate, whether or not its author actually had already written two popular novels...​

       Yes, I've noticed that Writing Twitter and Writing Facebook are all about posts bemoaning the hardships that attend the life of a writer--oh, it' so hard to settle down and concentrate on writing, you spend hours in front of your keyboard with nothing to show for it, people are always saying insensitive or stupid things to you, then there is time you waste in research rabbit holes and nobody cares. When I read these complaints, I think to myself, well, nobody's holding a gun to your head, just don't be a writer.
     But none of these social media memes hold a candle to the epic monologue of a character in Substance and Shadow, which I previously reviewed. This is from the anonymous author of the string of novels attributed to the author of The Woman of Colour. I’m sharing this for the interest of professors and students looking into the lives of female authors in Regency times and the way they represented themselves in print.
    The fictional Miss Letsom is accused of putting real characters into her novels, something Jane Austen also faced....