| 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. Spoilers abound in my discussion of these forgotten novels, and I discuss 18th-century attitudes which I do not necessarily endorse. This post is one in a continuing series in which I look at the novels which were possibly written by the same author who wrote The Woman of Colour (1808). See a list of all the novels in the authorial attribution chain here. |
| “The stranger entered, he made a polite bow, and was about to speak, when Mr. Mordaunt exclaimed, grasping his hand, and falling on his knee, ‘Gracious God! Has it been thy pleasure to let me once more behold this best of beings?” --one of many coincidental rencontres in Judith |
CMP#244 Judith (1800), a multigenerational Regency soap opera
There are actually three Judiths in this story. As the Orlando Project for Women’s Writing in the British Isle explains: “The incredibly complex plot follows three generations of Judiths and takes place across England, Scotland, Wales, and Jamaica. The story opens with the exemplary clergyman James [Mordaunt] being freed to marry Judith, firstly by getting a small living and secondly by the death of her tyrannical [step-] father. The narrative backs up to tell the story of her mother, also Judith, who was an aristocrat who married for love and was disowned.”
And there is much more crammed into two volumes, involving dastardly villainy, several backstories, and happy coincidences. One hero—the husband of the first Judith--is wrongly thought to be dead, not once, but twice. Rev. Mordaunt, husband of the second Judith, rescues a baby boy washed ashore from a shipwreck. The infant comes complete with initialed clothing and a miniature locket of a woman. Does the clergyman place a notice in the newspapers? No, of course not! He and Judith the second keep the child. Of course, as Judith foresees, this will inevitably give rise to a love affair between this boy and their own daughter Judith (the third), so they resolve to deceive the boy and let him think that he is actually their son, so he will think of Judith the third as his sister.
And there is much more crammed into two volumes, involving dastardly villainy, several backstories, and happy coincidences. One hero—the husband of the first Judith--is wrongly thought to be dead, not once, but twice. Rev. Mordaunt, husband of the second Judith, rescues a baby boy washed ashore from a shipwreck. The infant comes complete with initialed clothing and a miniature locket of a woman. Does the clergyman place a notice in the newspapers? No, of course not! He and Judith the second keep the child. Of course, as Judith foresees, this will inevitably give rise to a love affair between this boy and their own daughter Judith (the third), so they resolve to deceive the boy and let him think that he is actually their son, so he will think of Judith the third as his sister.
Loss of the Halsewell from "Tales of Shipwreck," Wikicommons, ChatGT coloring The second Judith reasons thusly: “[I]n case the parents or any relatives should hereafter claim the child, [and how will they do that, since nobody knows the poor child is alive] they would be ill pleased to find his affections engaged to an obscure clergyman’s daughter.”
“I yield to the justice of your remark,” said [her clergyman husband] Mordaunt,” and though I hate concealment, in this cause I will acquiesce.”
Well, that’s a completely convincing plot point. Of course a clergyman would go along with deliberately lying to everybody about a helpless baby who probably has relatives that are devastated by his supposed death in a shipwreck and who would be overjoyed to find him.
What a coincidence--the rescued infant turns out to be their own nephew (if I’ve got this tangled plot right), the legitimate heir to a Welsh and a Scottish title. Elizabeth Neiman, a scholar of the Minerva novels, points to a genre called the 'providential" novel, “a variation on the earlier sentimental novel.... shipwrecked infants, foundlings—the providential novel is built on the secret nobility of the hero or heroine. Yet this is an open secret; the hero’s exceptional good looks and virtuous mind unsubtly signal his real identity to readers as does his pervasive feeling of discomfort when living as a commoner.”
Out of the wreckage of the tragic lives of most everyone else in this novel, Judith the Third and James, now Lord Dunlair, are happily married.
“I yield to the justice of your remark,” said [her clergyman husband] Mordaunt,” and though I hate concealment, in this cause I will acquiesce.”
Well, that’s a completely convincing plot point. Of course a clergyman would go along with deliberately lying to everybody about a helpless baby who probably has relatives that are devastated by his supposed death in a shipwreck and who would be overjoyed to find him.
What a coincidence--the rescued infant turns out to be their own nephew (if I’ve got this tangled plot right), the legitimate heir to a Welsh and a Scottish title. Elizabeth Neiman, a scholar of the Minerva novels, points to a genre called the 'providential" novel, “a variation on the earlier sentimental novel.... shipwrecked infants, foundlings—the providential novel is built on the secret nobility of the hero or heroine. Yet this is an open secret; the hero’s exceptional good looks and virtuous mind unsubtly signal his real identity to readers as does his pervasive feeling of discomfort when living as a commoner.”
Out of the wreckage of the tragic lives of most everyone else in this novel, Judith the Third and James, now Lord Dunlair, are happily married.
Lt. Melross dueled with his commanding officer, also his brother-in-law A prejudicial portrait
There is an episode in this novel which makes for an interesting contrast to The Woman of Colour. A reminder that The Woman of Colour is of great interest to scholars because the protagonist is an intelligent, virtuous, mixed-race heiress from Jamaica. Judith features a mixed-race heir as well, but he is held up to contempt.
Lieutenant Melross learns that his beloved Judith (Judith the first) married another man because she had been told he was dead. He takes his broken heart off to Jamaica. There he finds employment with a miserly old planter named Gordon. But we do not get plantation-scenes; Melross works in a counting-house. Mr. Gordon has a very young wife and a child. When the old coot dies, Lt. Melross meets the rest of the family who show up for the reading of the will, including one who is described first as “a little short black man, who appeared to have claimed both a black father and mother,” then he is described as a "mullato,” that is, someone of mixed race.
This man and his wife pass the time before the will is read by sneering that the young widow must have cuckolded her ancient husband: “If ever a poor soul had horns, sure it was poor blind Mr. Gordon.”
In other words, we are to understand right away that these people are insolent and vulgar. The black man turns out to be Mr. Gordon’s chief beneficiary. Except for five thousand pounds to the widow, the will directs that the entire estate go to “Mr. John Gordon… who I here avow to be my son, by my favorite negro wench Yanko." He gets "the whole of my property, together with all my plantations, or whatever money I possess…”
By describing John Gordon as someone who appears to have had black parents, I think the narrator is insinuating that the "wench" Yanko is the one who cuckolded the late Mr. Gordon and presented him with a child fathered by someone else.
The beneficiaries promptly tell the widow to pack up and get out. “D’ye hear that,” again interrupted the vixen [John Gordon’s wife], turning to Mrs. Gordon; “get your trumpery packed, for I sha’n’t lend my house to vagabond gentry.”
“Scarcely could I conceal my indignation at this wretch’s injustice,” [Lt. Melross recounts, adding sarcastically] “but my reflections were interrupted by the kind executor, who allowed the widow to remain one month longer, in her present habitation.”
There is an episode in this novel which makes for an interesting contrast to The Woman of Colour. A reminder that The Woman of Colour is of great interest to scholars because the protagonist is an intelligent, virtuous, mixed-race heiress from Jamaica. Judith features a mixed-race heir as well, but he is held up to contempt.
Lieutenant Melross learns that his beloved Judith (Judith the first) married another man because she had been told he was dead. He takes his broken heart off to Jamaica. There he finds employment with a miserly old planter named Gordon. But we do not get plantation-scenes; Melross works in a counting-house. Mr. Gordon has a very young wife and a child. When the old coot dies, Lt. Melross meets the rest of the family who show up for the reading of the will, including one who is described first as “a little short black man, who appeared to have claimed both a black father and mother,” then he is described as a "mullato,” that is, someone of mixed race.
This man and his wife pass the time before the will is read by sneering that the young widow must have cuckolded her ancient husband: “If ever a poor soul had horns, sure it was poor blind Mr. Gordon.”
In other words, we are to understand right away that these people are insolent and vulgar. The black man turns out to be Mr. Gordon’s chief beneficiary. Except for five thousand pounds to the widow, the will directs that the entire estate go to “Mr. John Gordon… who I here avow to be my son, by my favorite negro wench Yanko." He gets "the whole of my property, together with all my plantations, or whatever money I possess…”
By describing John Gordon as someone who appears to have had black parents, I think the narrator is insinuating that the "wench" Yanko is the one who cuckolded the late Mr. Gordon and presented him with a child fathered by someone else.
The beneficiaries promptly tell the widow to pack up and get out. “D’ye hear that,” again interrupted the vixen [John Gordon’s wife], turning to Mrs. Gordon; “get your trumpery packed, for I sha’n’t lend my house to vagabond gentry.”
“Scarcely could I conceal my indignation at this wretch’s injustice,” [Lt. Melross recounts, adding sarcastically] “but my reflections were interrupted by the kind executor, who allowed the widow to remain one month longer, in her present habitation.”
Edmund Blair Leighton - The Elopement Historical accuracy
As Lyndon J. Dominique explains in his foreword to the scholarly edition of The Woman of Colour, the Jamaican colonial government put a limit on the amount that black or mixed-race people could inherit, setting a cap of 2,000 pounds. This explains why the heroine Olivia will only receive the lion's share of her inheritance if she marries her cousin Augustus--the money will be transferred to him. In Judith, John Gordon is clearly getting much more than 2,000 pounds. His inheritance includes a handsome home and multiple plantations. This suggests that the author of Judith was not aware of the law, or perhaps just didn’t care.
For that matter, the author shows a cavalier disregard for the provisions of Lord Hardwicke’s marriage act. People couldn’t just run off and get married, as several couples do in this novel, not without announcing the banns in church or getting a special license. (Or going to Gretna Green, of course).
Although scenes are set in Jamaica, there are no details about the enslaved population or plantation life. In fact, the word "slavery" is used by a white character to describe his own situation. Major Montgomery marries a simple country girl whom he abandons in Jamaica so he can bigamously marry a rich Jamaican widow. He complains the widow “was ugly in the extreme” with a “diabolical” temper… “I could not prevail on her to make to me any of her property during her life-time; it therefore became my task to please this woman; and for some years I lived the life of a slave with her. After ten years of “worse than Egyptian bondage,” the widow dies. Although Montgomery is not intended to be a sympathetic character, it jars a modern reader to see someone comparing themselves to a slave while living in Jamaica.
The real puzzle though, is could a writer who talked of slavery in such a cavalier fashion, and portrayed the illegitimate offspring of a planter in such a disparaging way, turn around and write The Woman of Colour eight years later? Did something occur to enlighten her? Did she have an awakening of conscience? Of is this evidence of two different authors?
As Lyndon J. Dominique explains in his foreword to the scholarly edition of The Woman of Colour, the Jamaican colonial government put a limit on the amount that black or mixed-race people could inherit, setting a cap of 2,000 pounds. This explains why the heroine Olivia will only receive the lion's share of her inheritance if she marries her cousin Augustus--the money will be transferred to him. In Judith, John Gordon is clearly getting much more than 2,000 pounds. His inheritance includes a handsome home and multiple plantations. This suggests that the author of Judith was not aware of the law, or perhaps just didn’t care.
For that matter, the author shows a cavalier disregard for the provisions of Lord Hardwicke’s marriage act. People couldn’t just run off and get married, as several couples do in this novel, not without announcing the banns in church or getting a special license. (Or going to Gretna Green, of course).
Although scenes are set in Jamaica, there are no details about the enslaved population or plantation life. In fact, the word "slavery" is used by a white character to describe his own situation. Major Montgomery marries a simple country girl whom he abandons in Jamaica so he can bigamously marry a rich Jamaican widow. He complains the widow “was ugly in the extreme” with a “diabolical” temper… “I could not prevail on her to make to me any of her property during her life-time; it therefore became my task to please this woman; and for some years I lived the life of a slave with her. After ten years of “worse than Egyptian bondage,” the widow dies. Although Montgomery is not intended to be a sympathetic character, it jars a modern reader to see someone comparing themselves to a slave while living in Jamaica.
The real puzzle though, is could a writer who talked of slavery in such a cavalier fashion, and portrayed the illegitimate offspring of a planter in such a disparaging way, turn around and write The Woman of Colour eight years later? Did something occur to enlighten her? Did she have an awakening of conscience? Of is this evidence of two different authors?
The unknown authoress Mrs. Foster
It seems quite believable that the authoress who wrote Judith also wrote Rebecca and Miriam, making a trilogy of novels featuring heroines with Old Testament names. She's also credited with Frederic & Caroline, or the Fitzmorris family. At the end of the second volume of Judith, the author is also credited with a novel called Mirvan. I suspect the compositor, who was working from a hand-written manuscript, must have misread the word "Miriam" for Mirvan. Just a fun little discovery. It appears that Rebecca, Judith, and Miriam were all printed at or around the same time, because they reference each other on the title pages and here, as we see, on the back pages. I think the lucky authoress went to the Minerva Press with a stack of manuscripts and he bought them all, including Emily of Lucerne.
Judith received no reviews when it was first published.
Previous post: Fedaretta and Emily of Lucerne
It seems quite believable that the authoress who wrote Judith also wrote Rebecca and Miriam, making a trilogy of novels featuring heroines with Old Testament names. She's also credited with Frederic & Caroline, or the Fitzmorris family. At the end of the second volume of Judith, the author is also credited with a novel called Mirvan. I suspect the compositor, who was working from a hand-written manuscript, must have misread the word "Miriam" for Mirvan. Just a fun little discovery. It appears that Rebecca, Judith, and Miriam were all printed at or around the same time, because they reference each other on the title pages and here, as we see, on the back pages. I think the lucky authoress went to the Minerva Press with a stack of manuscripts and he bought them all, including Emily of Lucerne.
Judith received no reviews when it was first published.
Previous post: Fedaretta and Emily of Lucerne
| Dominique, Lyndon J. Foreword to The Woman of Colour. Broadview Press, 2008. Neiman, Elizabeth. Minervas Gothics: The Politics and Poetics of Romantic Exchange, 1780-1820. University of Wales Press, 2019. |
RSS Feed