​     Mary Jane Mackenzie must have been thrilled with the positive review she received for her debut novel Geraldine. The Lady's Monthly Museum hailed "with pleasure the appearance of a tale which may be put into a youthful hand, not only without danger, but with a rational hope that its contents will make a favourable impression on the side of virtue. To this high degree of praise the novel before us is entitled; it is evidently the work of an author who units talent to sound judgment and true Christian principles.”
    Blackwood's Magazine said: "This is the best written Novel, except Anastasius, that has been published in London for several years. The conversational style, one of the best I have seen–clear, natural, and unaffectedly elegant, and full of the spirit of good society."  The Monthly Review said: "Her novel is one of the few which possess the rare merit of entertaining and amusing us, while they are devoted to a moral and religious object.” 
  Geraldine, or Modes of Faith and Practice, was published in 1820 by the prestigious publishing house of Cadell & Davies, who also published the best-selling Christian author Hannah More (and this is the publishing house that turned down Pride & Prejudice years before it was finally published).
    The novel also contains some echoes of Austen--in my opinion. Let's see if you agree. 

​    Like our previous author, the anonymous author of Cecily Fitz-Owen had a lot he wanted to get off his chest, and so the story of our heroine Cecily’s search for true love is interspersed with much commentary and moralizing on various topics from both the narrator and Cecily's friends the Delameres. Janeites will recall that Austen playfully joked that her novel Pride and Prejudice needed more such digressions:  "it wants to be stretched out here and there with a long chapter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of solemn specious nonsense, about something unconnected with the story: an essay on writing, a critique on Walter Scott, or the history of Buonaparté, or anything that would form a contrast." But she didn't mean it, of course. Austen is not as didactic as other authors, as I've learned. The didactic tone and the overall technique of this novel reminds me of Hannah More’s Coelebs in Search of a Wife, except that Cecily Fitz-Owen has a little more plot and arguably is better written than Coelebs.
    Another comparison to consider-- are there any intelligent, older people who give excellent advice and admonition to any of our Austen heroines? Mrs. Gardiner comes to mind as playing a small role in that way, but apart from that, I can't think of anything in Austen that's comparable. Leaving out love interest mentors, like Mr. Knightley, that is. 
     With so many digressions, the author has not left much room to devote to Cecily. I’m going to skip over the digressions, the “Sketch of Modern Manners” part, and focus on Cecily Fitz-Owen for now, then get back to the digressions, because they are of social interest.

    This novel is a moral tale, written to persuade, or rather frighten, young people away from having sex out of wedlock. Sort of a “Reefer Madness,” but for adultery. Summersett's jeremiad is a suitable book to cap off my lengthy series on how novels of the era focused on female virtue--not that I'll be able to stay away from the topic in future book reviews, because so many novels revolve around female virtue.
    Our story begins with a female voice pleading for help, heard outside the humble cottage of Gabriel and Mary Feller. Mary used to be a servant in a posh household, and the daughter of that household was seduced by one Captain Berringer. She flees to Mary to hide her shame and to go insane after she delivers an infant boy. She then drowns herself in the river.
     Baby William is passed off by Gabriel and Mary as their nephew, but strangely, the mother gave him the surname of her seducer, who, everyone agrees, is a loathsome reptile. The rest of volume One is taken up with William’s boyhood, and meeting the girl he marries…

     Charlotte Summers “is perhaps the earliest prototype of this story of the lost daughter," says scholar Ruth Perry. In this novel you can find the themes and tropes which preoccupied British literature for the next century. In fact, this type of novel was thoroughly satirized by the writer Robert Charles Maturin in an article for the British Critic. This plot seems to have predominated in the latter half of the 17th century:

• Friendless, orphaned girl is thrown upon an uncaring world. Her backstory involves a lot of bad luck and death.
• She is beautiful, accomplished, devout, and virtuous.
• She fends off unwanted male attention, up to and including assault.
• She is pressured to accept an unwanted suitor, or is accused of trying to ensnare a man.
• She turns down a marriage proposal from a suitor who is much beneath her in education, intelligence, or social standing.  
• Despite her perilous or lowly condition, she refuses to marry for money, or give her hand without her heart.
• Other women are jealous and behave spitefully towards her.
• She gets into trouble with the law although she is completely innocent.
• She has to move from place to place when her situation becomes untenable.
• A happy coincidental reunion restores her to her family or to her familial rights.
• She marries the man she loves.

     Charlotte Summers may be the fortunate parish girl but her good fortune is very much checkered, as she checks all the boxes above. And even though I've just told you the plot of the book (and the plots of many other books), I'll give you a synopsis anyway. There are also some interesting questions of style, language and message to consider...