| This blog explores social attitudes in Jane Austen's time, discusses her novels, reviews forgotten 18th century novels, and throws some occasional shade at the modern academy. The introductory post is here. My "six simple questions for academics" post is here. |
Munster Abbey, a Romance Interspersed with Reflections on Virtue and Morality (1797)
Rule Britannia! During the French Revolution in the 1790s, when Jane Austen was a young woman, the British establishment was terrified that the revolution would spread to Britain’s shores. A strong pushback movement, the Anti-Jacobins, took up their pens to defend the monarchy and the British way of life. They were not just worried about the overthrow of the monarchy, they were worried about the “New Philosophy," personified by William Godwin and his wife Mary Wollstonecraft, allied to atheism, the end of class distinctions, and the overthrow of the strict legal, ecclesiastical, and social restrictions surrounding marriage.
One way people showed their support for traditional values was to crowdfund (as we would say to today) appropriate literature, such as Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh’s Munster Abbey.
Despite its title, Munster Abbey is not a gothic novel. Like Mr. Knightley’s Donwell Abbey, Munster Abbey is a fine old British home that’s been in the family for generations, possibly since the dissolution of the monasteries. The novel depicts an ideal governing class ruling over a harmonious England with a picture of perfection heroine: “Aurelia was, in person, dress, and manner, everything that was elegant and engaging: --For she had been taught, from early life, by her amiable and accomplished mother, those soft and attractive virtues that command the esteem, and irresistibly captivate the affections of men of sense.” (His italics, not mine but Janeites will recognize what this reminds me of).
One way people showed their support for traditional values was to crowdfund (as we would say to today) appropriate literature, such as Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh’s Munster Abbey.
Despite its title, Munster Abbey is not a gothic novel. Like Mr. Knightley’s Donwell Abbey, Munster Abbey is a fine old British home that’s been in the family for generations, possibly since the dissolution of the monasteries. The novel depicts an ideal governing class ruling over a harmonious England with a picture of perfection heroine: “Aurelia was, in person, dress, and manner, everything that was elegant and engaging: --For she had been taught, from early life, by her amiable and accomplished mother, those soft and attractive virtues that command the esteem, and irresistibly captivate the affections of men of sense.” (His italics, not mine but Janeites will recognize what this reminds me of).
“The company, though much entertained by Piercy’s interesting story, were, at the same time, exhausted by the length of it.” Unfortunately for the Anti-Jacobin cause, Sir Samuel’s novel is not very memorable. It really illustrates why marriage-plot novels need some interesting impediments to keep the hero and heroine apart, because in this story, there are no impediments to speak of. Aurelia and Lord Altamont meet, they fall in love, he asks her father for permission, her father joyfully consents, he flies to her side and proposes and is accepted.
The simple building-blocks of the plot are held together with a very thin mortar of side-stories from various people whom the main characters meet as they travel around England and Europe.
Sir Samuel relies mostly on narration, not dialogue. That's a good thing because he's terrible at dialogue. Here’s a sample from the “picture of perfection” heroine, reacting to one of the personal stories they’ve heard: “Did you not remark particularly, my father, how feelingly he expressed himself concerning the uncertainty of all sublunary enjoyments,--and of the precarious tenure by which we hold them?—and with what a grace he referred to his own happy change of profession—contrasted with the miseries and calamities which so many are destined to undergo, by an alteration in their personal, their domestic, or their pecuniary condition?”
The narrator occasionally drops in some political opinions. When the travelers reach the Republic of Genoa, they point out that democracy is “inconsistent with that subordination which is the very bond and cement of society –Hence... the insolence of mechanics and the rabble,--who all erected themselves judges in matters of state; while every man of wisdom and of modesty knows, that there is not one of a thousand in any, even the freest state in Europe, who is entitled to converse on the subject either of political or religious government.” (This book was written before Napoleon overthrew the Genovese government, and before Napoleon’s conquests put an end to English travelling on the continent for some years).
The simple building-blocks of the plot are held together with a very thin mortar of side-stories from various people whom the main characters meet as they travel around England and Europe.
Sir Samuel relies mostly on narration, not dialogue. That's a good thing because he's terrible at dialogue. Here’s a sample from the “picture of perfection” heroine, reacting to one of the personal stories they’ve heard: “Did you not remark particularly, my father, how feelingly he expressed himself concerning the uncertainty of all sublunary enjoyments,--and of the precarious tenure by which we hold them?—and with what a grace he referred to his own happy change of profession—contrasted with the miseries and calamities which so many are destined to undergo, by an alteration in their personal, their domestic, or their pecuniary condition?”
The narrator occasionally drops in some political opinions. When the travelers reach the Republic of Genoa, they point out that democracy is “inconsistent with that subordination which is the very bond and cement of society –Hence... the insolence of mechanics and the rabble,--who all erected themselves judges in matters of state; while every man of wisdom and of modesty knows, that there is not one of a thousand in any, even the freest state in Europe, who is entitled to converse on the subject either of political or religious government.” (This book was written before Napoleon overthrew the Genovese government, and before Napoleon’s conquests put an end to English travelling on the continent for some years).
Hop pickers (detail) Itinerant labourers Subscription and prescription
According to 18th century literature expert Peter Garside, “[S]ubscription fiction usually featured settled country neighbourhoods, governed by benign patriarchs.” Aurelia’s father, Mr. Belford, is held up as a good example of what a Squire should be: a good steward of his lands and his tenants, and charitable to the poor. He established schools and “manufactories” on his estates and pays a premium, like a child tax credit, to families that support themselves and don’t ask for charitable help from the parish. Mr. Belford, like Emma Woodhouse, believes that performative tears for the poor is just “empty sympathy.” “A medium in all cases ought to be strictly observed, otherwise we might ponder over the miseries of the wretched, until we sunk into an irrecoverable state of melancholy.”
Opinions differed as to the best solutions for helping the working poor. Today, you’re unlikely to hear anyone praise land enclosure, the agricultural movement that took over land once open for any landless peasant for grazing land for their cow or sheep. But they are all for enclosure in Munster Abbey: here’s the narrator on the subject: “Another favourite object [Mr. Belford] accomplished… was the inclosing and cultivating of many thousand acres of commons, those nuisances which disgrace so many parts of England. His popularity and assiduity however carried this important point, and he lived to see thousands of pounds raised annually, and added to the national wealth, where formerly only a scanty subsistence could be found for a few half-starved animals.”
According to 18th century literature expert Peter Garside, “[S]ubscription fiction usually featured settled country neighbourhoods, governed by benign patriarchs.” Aurelia’s father, Mr. Belford, is held up as a good example of what a Squire should be: a good steward of his lands and his tenants, and charitable to the poor. He established schools and “manufactories” on his estates and pays a premium, like a child tax credit, to families that support themselves and don’t ask for charitable help from the parish. Mr. Belford, like Emma Woodhouse, believes that performative tears for the poor is just “empty sympathy.” “A medium in all cases ought to be strictly observed, otherwise we might ponder over the miseries of the wretched, until we sunk into an irrecoverable state of melancholy.”
Opinions differed as to the best solutions for helping the working poor. Today, you’re unlikely to hear anyone praise land enclosure, the agricultural movement that took over land once open for any landless peasant for grazing land for their cow or sheep. But they are all for enclosure in Munster Abbey: here’s the narrator on the subject: “Another favourite object [Mr. Belford] accomplished… was the inclosing and cultivating of many thousand acres of commons, those nuisances which disgrace so many parts of England. His popularity and assiduity however carried this important point, and he lived to see thousands of pounds raised annually, and added to the national wealth, where formerly only a scanty subsistence could be found for a few half-starved animals.”
Keep those eyes downcast, ladies! Lord Altamont, who marries Aurelia, is also an ideal nobleman, “who could not conceive men and women of distinction… throwing contempt on the religion of their country because (he asserted with sound wisdom) that, sooner or later, such conduct would extend to the inferior orders of the people, and would gradually produce a disregard to order and subordination, and consequently to every moral virtue.”
As for the ideal woman, there are several in the book and they are all cut to the same pattern. Sir Samuel believes women should have some education, coupled with modesty, piety, and gentleness. Here’s the second hero falling for the second heroine: “At first, captivated by the attractive graces of Julia’s person and manner, --Seward soon felt his heart more irresistibly assailed by the superior endowments of her mind. In every successive conversation, he there discovered new beauties. Her unaffected modesty and artless candour, formed a striking contrast with the unblushing forwardness of modern beauties,--who, thinking they thus display their superior claims to fashion and good breeding, divest themselves of the most engaging of female virtues.”
There are two more love matches described in the book in which the course of true love also runs smooth.
Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh shares his last name with Jane Austen's mother; perhaps they are distantly related. One attribute he shares with Austen is that he does not go for the mushy stuff in wedding proposals. Austen adds a little wry humour to her summations, as in Mansfield Park, but the basic idea is the same:
Munster Abbey was interesting to read as an example of what happens when the story is subordinated to the message. It's very likely that Jane Austen read this book, since her friend Mrs. Lefroy's husband had a copy.
As for the ideal woman, there are several in the book and they are all cut to the same pattern. Sir Samuel believes women should have some education, coupled with modesty, piety, and gentleness. Here’s the second hero falling for the second heroine: “At first, captivated by the attractive graces of Julia’s person and manner, --Seward soon felt his heart more irresistibly assailed by the superior endowments of her mind. In every successive conversation, he there discovered new beauties. Her unaffected modesty and artless candour, formed a striking contrast with the unblushing forwardness of modern beauties,--who, thinking they thus display their superior claims to fashion and good breeding, divest themselves of the most engaging of female virtues.”
There are two more love matches described in the book in which the course of true love also runs smooth.
Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh shares his last name with Jane Austen's mother; perhaps they are distantly related. One attribute he shares with Austen is that he does not go for the mushy stuff in wedding proposals. Austen adds a little wry humour to her summations, as in Mansfield Park, but the basic idea is the same:
- Austen: “But there was happiness elsewhere which no description can reach. Let no one presume to give the feelings of a young woman on receiving the assurance of that affection of which she has scarcely allowed herself to entertain a hope.”
- Leigh: “To attempt to describe, or convey any adequate idea of the joy and happiness of Lord Altamont, and also of Aurelia… would require a pencil which has not been hitherto formed by any mortal artist! The joys and raptures of the human soul never have been, nor never can be, described.”
Munster Abbey was interesting to read as an example of what happens when the story is subordinated to the message. It's very likely that Jane Austen read this book, since her friend Mrs. Lefroy's husband had a copy.
Not those Munsters About the author:
Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh (1770–1796)'s father served in America before the American revolution. The land holdings of this baronetcy were in South Carolina, so the family wealth must have been lost because of the war. I’m finding the genealogy rather confusing, but Austen’s mother was a Leigh. To add to the confusion, there was a Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges, also a writer, and according to Peter Garside, they were all distantly related to each other.
Munster Abbey was published posthumously by Sir Samuel's young widow. This might be another reason why the novel attracted over 1200 subscribers, including exiled French aristocrats, the crème de la crème of the British upper classes and hundreds of Scots. (The book was published in Edinburgh).
For all his efforts for the anti-Jacobin cause, Sir Samuel's tale did not find favour: The Critical Review ripped the book: “The fable of this piece is uninteresting, the language incorrect and inelegant; and by endeavouring to put sentiment into the mouths of his characters on the most trifling occasions, the author often renders his work ridiculous.”
I mentioned that Munster Abbey is not a gothic novel despite having "abbey" in the title. Today, scholars believe that gothic novels were a form of subversive literature that undermined the established order and in particular the restrictive roles of women. Munster Abbey is very much an "establishment" novel and not subversive at all.
Most gothic novels were cheap potboilers churned out by indigent women writers, often married to feckless husbands, who were trying to feed their children. Whether these female authors had the time, inclination, or talent to work in some subtle and subversive symbolism must be a matter of opinion. But in my experience, when these female authors had something to say, they said it.
Sir Samuel Egerton Leigh (1770–1796)'s father served in America before the American revolution. The land holdings of this baronetcy were in South Carolina, so the family wealth must have been lost because of the war. I’m finding the genealogy rather confusing, but Austen’s mother was a Leigh. To add to the confusion, there was a Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges, also a writer, and according to Peter Garside, they were all distantly related to each other.
Munster Abbey was published posthumously by Sir Samuel's young widow. This might be another reason why the novel attracted over 1200 subscribers, including exiled French aristocrats, the crème de la crème of the British upper classes and hundreds of Scots. (The book was published in Edinburgh).
For all his efforts for the anti-Jacobin cause, Sir Samuel's tale did not find favour: The Critical Review ripped the book: “The fable of this piece is uninteresting, the language incorrect and inelegant; and by endeavouring to put sentiment into the mouths of his characters on the most trifling occasions, the author often renders his work ridiculous.”
I mentioned that Munster Abbey is not a gothic novel despite having "abbey" in the title. Today, scholars believe that gothic novels were a form of subversive literature that undermined the established order and in particular the restrictive roles of women. Munster Abbey is very much an "establishment" novel and not subversive at all.
Most gothic novels were cheap potboilers churned out by indigent women writers, often married to feckless husbands, who were trying to feed their children. Whether these female authors had the time, inclination, or talent to work in some subtle and subversive symbolism must be a matter of opinion. But in my experience, when these female authors had something to say, they said it.
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| Garside, Peter, in “Politics and the Novel 1780-1830,” in The Romantic Period. The Penguin History of Literature, ed. By David J. Pirie. 1994. Garside, Peter. "Jane Austen and subscription fiction." Journal for Eighteenth‐Century Studies 10.2 (1987): 175-188. |
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