| 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#252 Review of Notoriety, or Fashionables Unveiled (1812), by "Castigator"
Emma, Lady Hamilton packed on some weight in her final years 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!...
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!...
Entertained by celebrities Critiquing or "burn it all down?"
There is another important distinction to be made between these gossipy novels and a Jacobin (i.e. progressive and radical) novel, although both types of novels critique the nobility. I'll be bouncing back and forth between these genres in the next few blog posts. Yes, the upper crust comes in for a gossipy bashing here, but the author is essentially conservative or anti-Jacobin in his sympathies. To be an anti-Jacobin means that you pledge allegiance to the Prince Regent and his brothers, no matter how many illegitimate children they have. The self-indulgent, spendthrift prince, who was the butt of many an uncomplimentary cartoon in his day, is here described as an “illustrious prince" with "a generous and excellent nature,” with a “noble mind and feeling heart.”
In Notoriety, most of the gossip and most of the moralizing is provided by one character--Sir Thomas Fernshaw, a wealthy city merchant. He is an indefatigable gossip, but his intention is to point out faults and warn young people against vice and folly. He is one of several people in the novel who take an interest in who the beautiful heroine Caroline Wakefield will marry. It should go without saying that Caroline’s parents are both dead, and only her widowed aunt Lady Amanda and her uncle the retired Naval captain are looking out for her.
There is another important distinction to be made between these gossipy novels and a Jacobin (i.e. progressive and radical) novel, although both types of novels critique the nobility. I'll be bouncing back and forth between these genres in the next few blog posts. Yes, the upper crust comes in for a gossipy bashing here, but the author is essentially conservative or anti-Jacobin in his sympathies. To be an anti-Jacobin means that you pledge allegiance to the Prince Regent and his brothers, no matter how many illegitimate children they have. The self-indulgent, spendthrift prince, who was the butt of many an uncomplimentary cartoon in his day, is here described as an “illustrious prince" with "a generous and excellent nature,” with a “noble mind and feeling heart.”
In Notoriety, most of the gossip and most of the moralizing is provided by one character--Sir Thomas Fernshaw, a wealthy city merchant. He is an indefatigable gossip, but his intention is to point out faults and warn young people against vice and folly. He is one of several people in the novel who take an interest in who the beautiful heroine Caroline Wakefield will marry. It should go without saying that Caroline’s parents are both dead, and only her widowed aunt Lady Amanda and her uncle the retired Naval captain are looking out for her.
Spot the winning suitor
Sir Thomas’ first candidate in the matrimonial sweepstakes is his own son, but even he has to admit that his son is a silly jokester who is not worthy of the lovely, intelligent, and virtuous Caroline’s hand. Our heroine’s uncle, Captain Wakefield, thinks his niece should marry an older man, Colonel Grafton, but Grafton himself declines the honour because the one girl he loved died young and he can never look at another. Then there is the boorish and superficial young-man-about-town Lord Henry, who is more interested in horses than women. Caroline herself has a crush on Spencer Westbourne, who is handsome and well-spoken, but who has frittered away his inheritance on fashionable living. Over the course of the novel, Westbourne pulls himself together and wins her hand. One way the author redeems his character is by showing him quietly bestowing charity on an indigent family.
The proposal of marriage is brief and dialogue-free, but it includes a kiss, so perhaps you would like to read it:
Sir Thomas’ first candidate in the matrimonial sweepstakes is his own son, but even he has to admit that his son is a silly jokester who is not worthy of the lovely, intelligent, and virtuous Caroline’s hand. Our heroine’s uncle, Captain Wakefield, thinks his niece should marry an older man, Colonel Grafton, but Grafton himself declines the honour because the one girl he loved died young and he can never look at another. Then there is the boorish and superficial young-man-about-town Lord Henry, who is more interested in horses than women. Caroline herself has a crush on Spencer Westbourne, who is handsome and well-spoken, but who has frittered away his inheritance on fashionable living. Over the course of the novel, Westbourne pulls himself together and wins her hand. One way the author redeems his character is by showing him quietly bestowing charity on an indigent family.
The proposal of marriage is brief and dialogue-free, but it includes a kiss, so perhaps you would like to read it:
 | "Mr. Westbourne ventured to confess the respectful love and admiration, with which she had inspired him; declared his affection was founded on so firm a basis that time could never eradicate it, and pleaded his cause with all that graceful eloquence for which he was so much distinguished. "Miss Wakefield had long expected this confession; and rising superior to the little arts of trifling with the feelings of a beloved object, blushing acknowledged how dear his happiness was to her. "Enchanted with this ingenuous confession, Mr. Westbourn could not resist the temptation of pressing, for the first time, with his lips, the beautiful mouth of the blushing Caroline; and had the inexpressible delight of obtaining her consent for an immediate application to Lady Amanda and Captain Wakefield." |
Cartoon of Four in Hand Club, detail. British Museum Other features
If this novel has a dramatic climax, or any clever plot twists, I didn’t spot it on my skim through. The beautiful but superficial Lady Maria, who is a rival for the affections of Spencer Westbourne, doesn't do anything other than be jealous and catty. At least Caroline Bingley was instrumental in thwarting the romance of her brother with Jane Bennet for two volumes.
There is one type of female caricature in this book I have not come across before--Lady Amanda appears to be an anorexic and possibly bulimic: “the excessive dread she had lived in of being fat, had caused her to make use of every art to render herself the contrary; her complexion, by these pernicious means, which was actually of an equivocal colour, had attained the hue of dirty chalk, or rather of pipe clay, and her flesh literally clung to her large bones.”
That’s the plot out of the way--and the plot can barely struggle through all the gossip and anecdotes. Here are some features which may be of interest to social historians.
Turned his what? Say again?
First, a bit of Regency slang I had not come across before, used by the boorish Lord Henry Castledowne who "was one of the most able whips belonging to the four-in-hand club…. He was not very sensitive, any more than other beings of his cast, to the charms of feminine beauty and acquirements, though he certainly did confess, that Caroline Wakefield was a devilish fine girl, and often toasted her among his bottle companions… but he wanted confoundedly to know if the old one [the aunt] meant to come down with the dust; if not, he should be off like a shot, round the corner, and might the devil take him if he ever turned his tits that way again.”
Okay, I checked for occurrences of "my tits" in other books of this era and it appears to mean, "my horses."
If this novel has a dramatic climax, or any clever plot twists, I didn’t spot it on my skim through. The beautiful but superficial Lady Maria, who is a rival for the affections of Spencer Westbourne, doesn't do anything other than be jealous and catty. At least Caroline Bingley was instrumental in thwarting the romance of her brother with Jane Bennet for two volumes.
There is one type of female caricature in this book I have not come across before--Lady Amanda appears to be an anorexic and possibly bulimic: “the excessive dread she had lived in of being fat, had caused her to make use of every art to render herself the contrary; her complexion, by these pernicious means, which was actually of an equivocal colour, had attained the hue of dirty chalk, or rather of pipe clay, and her flesh literally clung to her large bones.”
That’s the plot out of the way--and the plot can barely struggle through all the gossip and anecdotes. Here are some features which may be of interest to social historians.
Turned his what? Say again?
First, a bit of Regency slang I had not come across before, used by the boorish Lord Henry Castledowne who "was one of the most able whips belonging to the four-in-hand club…. He was not very sensitive, any more than other beings of his cast, to the charms of feminine beauty and acquirements, though he certainly did confess, that Caroline Wakefield was a devilish fine girl, and often toasted her among his bottle companions… but he wanted confoundedly to know if the old one [the aunt] meant to come down with the dust; if not, he should be off like a shot, round the corner, and might the devil take him if he ever turned his tits that way again.”
Okay, I checked for occurrences of "my tits" in other books of this era and it appears to mean, "my horses."
Christ Healing the Sick in the Temple (detail) Mentions of Empire and Slavery
We learn in Lady Amanda's backstory that she is an earl's daughter, but poor. She is approaching forty when she marries Caroline's oldest uncle who came came back from the East Indies with a fortune. No reflections are made on the source of his wealth, only reflections on his sun-darkened complexion ("almost the colour of a negro") and the phenomenon of the nouveau riche marrying into the nobility. Major Wakefield also brought back a "tawney native" of the Indies as his mistress who, unhappy about the marriage, either scolded him to death or poisoned him.
Later, in one extended scene, the major characters are at the newly-opened National Gallery, admiring Benjamin West’s large canvas, Christ Healing the Sick in the Temple, the exhibition of which drew large crowds in real life. The heroine and her friends agree that Jesus did not have blue eyes—and if he did, it certainly would have been remarked upon by his contemporaries. Sir Thomas, the one who has an opinion about everything and a gossipy anecdote about everyone, condemns West for portraying the dark-skinned servants, and only them, with brutish and stupid expressions. "[L]et [West] now learn that the bounteous Almighty has implanted equally in the breast of all his creatures an impulse of religion; and when called into action is equally apparent in the slave as in the prince.”
Elsewhere however, the narrator shows the author's enlightened views go only so far! He expresses his distaste for mixed-race marriages. “…however inky the coat by which Nature has been pleased to distinguish an African, he is equally, with us, the work of a DIVINE CREATOR, and our brother of the Dust; but let us not mingle our race... An English woman foregoes every claim to modesty and common decency, when she forms such an alliance.” He adds his fear that the natural wish of a freed slave would be to be “vindictive and revengeful."
We learn in Lady Amanda's backstory that she is an earl's daughter, but poor. She is approaching forty when she marries Caroline's oldest uncle who came came back from the East Indies with a fortune. No reflections are made on the source of his wealth, only reflections on his sun-darkened complexion ("almost the colour of a negro") and the phenomenon of the nouveau riche marrying into the nobility. Major Wakefield also brought back a "tawney native" of the Indies as his mistress who, unhappy about the marriage, either scolded him to death or poisoned him.
Later, in one extended scene, the major characters are at the newly-opened National Gallery, admiring Benjamin West’s large canvas, Christ Healing the Sick in the Temple, the exhibition of which drew large crowds in real life. The heroine and her friends agree that Jesus did not have blue eyes—and if he did, it certainly would have been remarked upon by his contemporaries. Sir Thomas, the one who has an opinion about everything and a gossipy anecdote about everyone, condemns West for portraying the dark-skinned servants, and only them, with brutish and stupid expressions. "[L]et [West] now learn that the bounteous Almighty has implanted equally in the breast of all his creatures an impulse of religion; and when called into action is equally apparent in the slave as in the prince.”
Elsewhere however, the narrator shows the author's enlightened views go only so far! He expresses his distaste for mixed-race marriages. “…however inky the coat by which Nature has been pleased to distinguish an African, he is equally, with us, the work of a DIVINE CREATOR, and our brother of the Dust; but let us not mingle our race... An English woman foregoes every claim to modesty and common decency, when she forms such an alliance.” He adds his fear that the natural wish of a freed slave would be to be “vindictive and revengeful."
About the author
"Castigator" is of course a pseudonym, and one used by more than one author. Possibly the author is Charles Dibdin (1845-1814), a dramatist and song writer. Dibdin is mentioned in this novel in relation to his song “Tom Tackle.” Is this a sly self-reference?
This book reminds me somewhat of Celia in Search of a Husband, also written under a pseudonym with its preoccupation with the manners and morals of the fashionable set in London, including fashionable young men who like to dress up as coachmen and drive fast. Celia is a bit more evangelical, but of course it was written in imitation of Hannah More. I reviewed it here.
Although Notoriety evidently went into a second edition, it received no reviews when first published.
The author's parting words pay lip service to the prevailing expectation that novels have a "moral tendency" and s/he also anticipates some bad reviews:
"Castigator" is of course a pseudonym, and one used by more than one author. Possibly the author is Charles Dibdin (1845-1814), a dramatist and song writer. Dibdin is mentioned in this novel in relation to his song “Tom Tackle.” Is this a sly self-reference?
This book reminds me somewhat of Celia in Search of a Husband, also written under a pseudonym with its preoccupation with the manners and morals of the fashionable set in London, including fashionable young men who like to dress up as coachmen and drive fast. Celia is a bit more evangelical, but of course it was written in imitation of Hannah More. I reviewed it here.
Although Notoriety evidently went into a second edition, it received no reviews when first published.
The author's parting words pay lip service to the prevailing expectation that novels have a "moral tendency" and s/he also anticipates some bad reviews:
| “If [this novel] has made misery, for a moment, forget her sorrows—if it has softened the acute hour of anguish pain and sickness, or dispelled the ennui of the more healthful and happy—if it has pointed out the deformity of vice, and shown the beauty of virtue to our more youthful readers, so as to preserve morality, though satire might guide the pen—the author is amply rewarded... But to the hireling bow-wow-wow critics, whose favourable opinion is purchaseable… we hurl haughty defiance.” |  Dibdin's song "Tom Tackle" |
Notoriety was still to be found on the library shelf many decades later, because it pops up in an 1843 editorial in The Illustrated London Times (below):
| When we look at the shelves of a circulating library, groaning beneath that generally despicable class of volumes called fashionable novels—when we take up, only to lay down in disgust, “Notoriety, or Fashionables Unveiled,” Pavilion, or a Month at Brighton,” “Memoirs of a Peeress,” “Marriage in High life,” “Almack’s Revisited,” or some such stuff, we cannot but infer that it is not the vices of absurdities of what is ignorantly called fashionable life that creates this never-ceasing demand for trash and nonsense, but rather a morbid appetite for vapidity and small-talk, a lady’s maid’s curiosity of the secrets of her betters, a servile love of imitating what is unworthy imitation, and of following that which is not worth following, simply because it is supposed that these ridiculous caricatures represent the real life of “The twice ten thousand for whom the earth was made,” … … it is among the lower orders of the middle classes that these caricaturers by profession of the upper, their slanderers and their eulogists, find sympathy and encouragement. |
I conclude it would be an error to suppose that novelists who earn money with satirical portraits of the nobility are necessarily trying to foment an overthrow of the class system. We complain about corrupt politicians and insufferable celebrities today but that doesn't mean we don't want politicians or celebrities. As the 1843 reviewer says, this kind of novel caters to the envy and curiosity which the less-privileged feel about the lifestyles of the highly-born. There's a market for that, and there still is.
previous post: A dangerous play Next post: June is Mary Ann Hanway month at CMP
previous post: A dangerous play Next post: June is Mary Ann Hanway month at CMP
 Dibdin's song "Tom Tackle" concerns a jolly sailor who uses his earnings to rescue an old shipmate and his family from debtor's prison but finds that he loses his friends because he is now poor. In my variation on Mansfield Park, the ever-restless Henry Crawford wants to become a member of the Four in Hand club. But his passion for reckless driving leads to confrontation and consequences. See more about my Mansfield Trilogy here: |
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