| 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. |
CMP#248 "By the author of two popular novels" -- City Nobility, or A Summer at Margate
Crosby's advertisement for A Winter in Bath. 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.
Enraged, 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.”
Enraged, 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.”
Hughes yanking Crosby's chain 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...
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...
"Season" Novels--Love and gossip
A “season” novel is set amongst the fashionable set in London or Bath or some watering-place like Margate. They are marriage-plot novels but they include veiled portraits of, or gossip about, real-life celebrity nobilities. I’ve reviewed a few season novels previously, including the bestseller that started it all, A Winter in London (1806). In contrast though, this novel is set among, and pokes fun at, the newly-emerging and prosperous merchant class. If you’re writing about the nobility, you lash them for their decadence, selfishness, and indifference to the poor. If you’re writing about the merchant class, you lampoon them for their vulgarity and their foolish social-climbing antics.
A “season” novel is set amongst the fashionable set in London or Bath or some watering-place like Margate. They are marriage-plot novels but they include veiled portraits of, or gossip about, real-life celebrity nobilities. I’ve reviewed a few season novels previously, including the bestseller that started it all, A Winter in London (1806). In contrast though, this novel is set among, and pokes fun at, the newly-emerging and prosperous merchant class. If you’re writing about the nobility, you lash them for their decadence, selfishness, and indifference to the poor. If you’re writing about the merchant class, you lampoon them for their vulgarity and their foolish social-climbing antics.
| Butt of the joke The cartoon at right takes aim at the same class of people as in this novel--a bumptious merchant class. In the 1812 cartoon the wife has stuffed her husband's pockets full of food for the voyage to Margate. In the book, the wife calls out to her servant to be sure he has brought all the food she packed, some of which is in the maidservant's pockets. Most of the characters are used as comic foils or villains, against which we contrast Emily Alford, the beautiful, accomplished, virtuous clergyman's daughter, and the handsome, rich, gallant, Lord Rosedale, a "good" nobleman. |  © The Trustees of the British Museum, creative commons license |
Synopsis of City Nobility (watch for some Austen parallels)
The story opens with Mrs. Emley pestering her husband to let her take her three unmarried daughters to Margate for the summer. Since her husband is a leading grocer in the city, she thinks her daughters may fairly aim for a titled bridegroom and marry up into the nobility. Mr. Emley is a long-suffering man, saddled with ta silly, ignorant wife. He takes refuge behind the newspaper at the breakfast table. Are Mr. and Mrs. Emley as comic as the Bennets in Pride and Prejudice? No, because the only way this author knows how to be sarcastic is to use italics. Here, she lets us know that Mrs. Emley is a day drinker: she “first visited her closet for a very small glass of a very innocent morning cordial to recruit her almost exhausted spirits…”
Anyway, Mr. Emley finally agrees to pay for the trip: “as he had done in many other [instances]--sacrificed his judgment to procure a domestic calm.”
Leaving Mr. Emley and his son behind to mind the store, the ladies take themselves off to Margate via the “hoy,” and soon they are happily socializing with their friends at the circulating library. One of their city friends announces: “I’ve got Deeds of Darkness here... and I must now have anything Mr. ______ can recommend as particularly horrid.” More vignettes of the wealthy and vulgar follow. A fat lady sits down on a needle in a sofa. Hilarity ensues.
Meanwhile, Mr. Emley’s beloved sister dies, leaving his orphaned niece Emily on their hands. I was all set up for Mr. Emley's son to fall in love with his cousin but no--she joins the Emley females in Margate, where to the great envy and chagrin of her cousins and the wrath of her aunt, she captivates the handsome Lord Rosedale. Emily Alford does not have the wit and sparkle of Elizabeth Bennet, but she does have intelligence and integrity. (It's a good thing her name isn't Emily Emley, by the way.)
Lord Rosedale comes close to proposing marriage to Emily but he thinks twice: “it may appear strange that the earl should strive to eradicate the passion he had conceived for Emily from his bosom… Lord Rosedale thought, and indeed not mal apropos, that no man can unite himself in marriage to a woman without marrying in a great degree her relations and connections.”
The story opens with Mrs. Emley pestering her husband to let her take her three unmarried daughters to Margate for the summer. Since her husband is a leading grocer in the city, she thinks her daughters may fairly aim for a titled bridegroom and marry up into the nobility. Mr. Emley is a long-suffering man, saddled with ta silly, ignorant wife. He takes refuge behind the newspaper at the breakfast table. Are Mr. and Mrs. Emley as comic as the Bennets in Pride and Prejudice? No, because the only way this author knows how to be sarcastic is to use italics. Here, she lets us know that Mrs. Emley is a day drinker: she “first visited her closet for a very small glass of a very innocent morning cordial to recruit her almost exhausted spirits…”
Anyway, Mr. Emley finally agrees to pay for the trip: “as he had done in many other [instances]--sacrificed his judgment to procure a domestic calm.”
Leaving Mr. Emley and his son behind to mind the store, the ladies take themselves off to Margate via the “hoy,” and soon they are happily socializing with their friends at the circulating library. One of their city friends announces: “I’ve got Deeds of Darkness here... and I must now have anything Mr. ______ can recommend as particularly horrid.” More vignettes of the wealthy and vulgar follow. A fat lady sits down on a needle in a sofa. Hilarity ensues.
Meanwhile, Mr. Emley’s beloved sister dies, leaving his orphaned niece Emily on their hands. I was all set up for Mr. Emley's son to fall in love with his cousin but no--she joins the Emley females in Margate, where to the great envy and chagrin of her cousins and the wrath of her aunt, she captivates the handsome Lord Rosedale. Emily Alford does not have the wit and sparkle of Elizabeth Bennet, but she does have intelligence and integrity. (It's a good thing her name isn't Emily Emley, by the way.)
Lord Rosedale comes close to proposing marriage to Emily but he thinks twice: “it may appear strange that the earl should strive to eradicate the passion he had conceived for Emily from his bosom… Lord Rosedale thought, and indeed not mal apropos, that no man can unite himself in marriage to a woman without marrying in a great degree her relations and connections.”
Emily mourns her parents while enduring unwanted suitors and the vulgar antics of her relatives Backstories aplenty
The Emily/Rosedale narrative is repeatedly interrupted with multiple backstories in which no fewer than three young women become pregnant out of wedlock, with varying outcomes, although in every case, the narrator is on the side of compassion and/or doing one’s best to patch up the mess.
Also, one of Emily’s foolish cousins is deceived by a watering-place lounger named Mellville who tells her that he is a nobleman’s son, and can only court and marry her in secret. He is in fact, after her dowry from her father.
They rush off to Gretna Green but only after they are married does he confess the truth; he’s not a nobleman and he’s got no money at all. Luckily her father forgives the foolish couple. Mellville promises to reform.
Meanwhile, Emily is menaced by a cad (she is rescued not by Lord Rosedale but by his friend Mr. Beverly). A minor character named Miss Austin sits Emily down at a party and gives her the lengthy backstory of her family circumstances, which I’ve already forgotten, but the conclusion is that Miss Austin loves Mr. Beverly and she was briefly jealous when she heard that he had fought a duel over Emily (to punish the cad who tried to assault her), but they reconciled and are going to get married. Another example of how heroines cause havoc wherever they go.
When her uncle sees how badly Emily is treated by his wife and his daughters, he settles five thousand pounds on her (the interest giving her an annual income of 200 pounds) to make her “independent” of household handouts from her begrudging aunt.
Emily receives a proposal of marriage from the very eligible Sir Charles Monckton. He barely has a walk-on part--the author might as well call him Sir Charles Plot Device. Emily turns him down because she can’t give him her heart as well as her hand. When Lord Rosedale learns that another eligible man has proposed to Emily, he reflects that after all, he and Emily can spend most of their time in the country on his estate and he only has to put up with her relatives for a few months out of the year. Do we get a nice proposal scene? No. Lord Rosedale proposes by asking for a private interview with Uncle Emley. He does not write or speak to Emily. He leaves. A guest comes for dinner. Emily has to wait until after dinner when her uncle tells her: “‘Lord Rosedale is an impatient lover, he intreats an immediate knowledge of your sentiments. Am I, my dear Emily, to answer him in the same style as you dictated for Sir Charles Monckton?’ Emily’s blushes declared the contrary.”
So there you have it. Lord Rosedale introduces his bride to his formidable old aunt, who is delighted with her, and they all live happily ever after.
The Emily/Rosedale narrative is repeatedly interrupted with multiple backstories in which no fewer than three young women become pregnant out of wedlock, with varying outcomes, although in every case, the narrator is on the side of compassion and/or doing one’s best to patch up the mess.
Also, one of Emily’s foolish cousins is deceived by a watering-place lounger named Mellville who tells her that he is a nobleman’s son, and can only court and marry her in secret. He is in fact, after her dowry from her father.
They rush off to Gretna Green but only after they are married does he confess the truth; he’s not a nobleman and he’s got no money at all. Luckily her father forgives the foolish couple. Mellville promises to reform.
Meanwhile, Emily is menaced by a cad (she is rescued not by Lord Rosedale but by his friend Mr. Beverly). A minor character named Miss Austin sits Emily down at a party and gives her the lengthy backstory of her family circumstances, which I’ve already forgotten, but the conclusion is that Miss Austin loves Mr. Beverly and she was briefly jealous when she heard that he had fought a duel over Emily (to punish the cad who tried to assault her), but they reconciled and are going to get married. Another example of how heroines cause havoc wherever they go.
When her uncle sees how badly Emily is treated by his wife and his daughters, he settles five thousand pounds on her (the interest giving her an annual income of 200 pounds) to make her “independent” of household handouts from her begrudging aunt.
Emily receives a proposal of marriage from the very eligible Sir Charles Monckton. He barely has a walk-on part--the author might as well call him Sir Charles Plot Device. Emily turns him down because she can’t give him her heart as well as her hand. When Lord Rosedale learns that another eligible man has proposed to Emily, he reflects that after all, he and Emily can spend most of their time in the country on his estate and he only has to put up with her relatives for a few months out of the year. Do we get a nice proposal scene? No. Lord Rosedale proposes by asking for a private interview with Uncle Emley. He does not write or speak to Emily. He leaves. A guest comes for dinner. Emily has to wait until after dinner when her uncle tells her: “‘Lord Rosedale is an impatient lover, he intreats an immediate knowledge of your sentiments. Am I, my dear Emily, to answer him in the same style as you dictated for Sir Charles Monckton?’ Emily’s blushes declared the contrary.”
So there you have it. Lord Rosedale introduces his bride to his formidable old aunt, who is delighted with her, and they all live happily ever after.
Jane, Duchess of Gordon by Gillray, (detail) National Portrait Gallery Sly allusions
The references to celebrity nobility, part of the "Season" novel genre, are few. Two examples: as a match-maker, Mrs. Emley: “looked up to a certain dutchess of the north with admiration, regarding her grace as a model for all prudent mothers to follow in the settlement of their daughters.” I think the northern "dutchess" is Jane Gordon, Duchess of Gordon who found titled husbands for her five daughters.
When Mr. Emley reconciles with his new son-in-law, he gives him credit for being ashamed that he can't support his wife and therefore she might end up as somebody’s mistress: “No, Mellville, I do not hold you in my estimation so contemptible a wretch, though there are such as will stoop to share the spoils of a wife’s infamy. O ye poor, where are you to look for example, when among your peers you have witnessed such vile precedents?” While criticizing the nobility is not the same as calling for its overthrow, we can see again that authors of the day freely castigated their betters.
The references to celebrity nobility, part of the "Season" novel genre, are few. Two examples: as a match-maker, Mrs. Emley: “looked up to a certain dutchess of the north with admiration, regarding her grace as a model for all prudent mothers to follow in the settlement of their daughters.” I think the northern "dutchess" is Jane Gordon, Duchess of Gordon who found titled husbands for her five daughters.
When Mr. Emley reconciles with his new son-in-law, he gives him credit for being ashamed that he can't support his wife and therefore she might end up as somebody’s mistress: “No, Mellville, I do not hold you in my estimation so contemptible a wretch, though there are such as will stoop to share the spoils of a wife’s infamy. O ye poor, where are you to look for example, when among your peers you have witnessed such vile precedents?” While criticizing the nobility is not the same as calling for its overthrow, we can see again that authors of the day freely castigated their betters.
Margate Hoy [1785] (detail) William Hinton The West Indies are a fact of life
While some novels of the time openly inveighed against slavery, and many others used the West Indies as a plot device for the acquisition of handsome fortunes, City Nobility is one of the many books which simply treat sugar plantations as a fact of life. When Mr. Emley the grocer is reading his paper and trying to ignore his wife: “his eyes for a length of time had been fixed on an important paragraph—his countenance changed; indistinct sentences fell from his lips—hurricanes, West India islands, rise of sugar, &c.” and Mrs. Emley knows that now is not the time to pester him about paying for a trip to Margate. The book pokes a little fun at him for being so devoted to his business, but he is not portrayed as a bad guy, quite the opposite.
The Emley females travel to Margate on “the hoy,” which I had never heard of before, but it seems it was a regular ferry service between London and Margate.
About the authoress
City Nobility was probably written by Sarah Wilkinson (1779-1831), a hard-working author of gothics and children's books who struggled and failed to keep out of poverty. She may have started out middle-class with a good education, but she ended her life in a workhouse. She didn't write Deeds of Darkness, or the Unnatural Uncle (1805), the gothic novel mentioned in City Nobility. There is some doubt about whether she was ever married to a Mr. Scadgill or Scadgell or Scudgill, as she claimed to be, so perhaps all those stories about women getting pregnant out of wedlock has a biographical basis. She had at least one child, Amelia.
City Nobility received no reviews when it was first published.
While some novels of the time openly inveighed against slavery, and many others used the West Indies as a plot device for the acquisition of handsome fortunes, City Nobility is one of the many books which simply treat sugar plantations as a fact of life. When Mr. Emley the grocer is reading his paper and trying to ignore his wife: “his eyes for a length of time had been fixed on an important paragraph—his countenance changed; indistinct sentences fell from his lips—hurricanes, West India islands, rise of sugar, &c.” and Mrs. Emley knows that now is not the time to pester him about paying for a trip to Margate. The book pokes a little fun at him for being so devoted to his business, but he is not portrayed as a bad guy, quite the opposite.
The Emley females travel to Margate on “the hoy,” which I had never heard of before, but it seems it was a regular ferry service between London and Margate.
About the authoress
City Nobility was probably written by Sarah Wilkinson (1779-1831), a hard-working author of gothics and children's books who struggled and failed to keep out of poverty. She may have started out middle-class with a good education, but she ended her life in a workhouse. She didn't write Deeds of Darkness, or the Unnatural Uncle (1805), the gothic novel mentioned in City Nobility. There is some doubt about whether she was ever married to a Mr. Scadgill or Scadgell or Scudgill, as she claimed to be, so perhaps all those stories about women getting pregnant out of wedlock has a biographical basis. She had at least one child, Amelia.
City Nobility received no reviews when it was first published.
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| Garside, Peter. “J. F. Hughes and the Publication of Popular Fiction, 1803–1810.” Library, vol. s6-IX, no. 3, 1987, pp. 240–58, https://doi.org/10.1093/library/s6-IX.3.240. Hudson, Kathleen. Women's Authorship and the Early Gothic: Legacies and Innovations. U of Wales Press, 2020, p. 167. Stevens, Anne H. “The Season Novel, 1806-1824: A Nineteenth-Century Microgenre.” Victoriographies, vol. 7, no. 2, 2017, pp. 81–100, https://doi.org/10.3366/vic.2017.0265. |
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