| 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#254 Andrew Stuart part two
This post continues the synopsis of the long and complicated plot of Andrew Stuart, the Northern Wanderer (1800) by Mary Ann Hanway. I suggest you read the previous post before proceeding with this one.
Our heroine Isabella has been whisked off to a remote castle in Wales by Lord Lorimore’s henchmen, still wearing her bridal attire and not knowing what happened to her would-be groom Andrew. The carriage ride takes several days and at one inn, Isabella engages in a lengthy debate with her captor about whether novels are damaging or good for society (as one does). We meet some comic lower-class characters on the trip.
When Isabella reaches the castle, which the depraved Lord Lorimore regularly uses for imprisoning refractory potential mistresses, he fortunately is not there. She’s greeted by his agent, the slimy lawyer Edward Engross, who offers her marriage. When she indignantly refuses (some more fine speeches here), he assaults her but she is rescued in the nick of time by a handsome young gentleman who was passing by with his hound and his hunting rifle, who heard her screams. He whisks her away and Engross is thwarted. Hanway withholds the name of this kind stranger, but it’s pretty easy to guess that it’s Andrew’s friend Charles Nesbit. He offers to take Isabella to a safe hiding place.
When Isabella reaches the castle, which the depraved Lord Lorimore regularly uses for imprisoning refractory potential mistresses, he fortunately is not there. She’s greeted by his agent, the slimy lawyer Edward Engross, who offers her marriage. When she indignantly refuses (some more fine speeches here), he assaults her but she is rescued in the nick of time by a handsome young gentleman who was passing by with his hound and his hunting rifle, who heard her screams. He whisks her away and Engross is thwarted. Hanway withholds the name of this kind stranger, but it’s pretty easy to guess that it’s Andrew’s friend Charles Nesbit. He offers to take Isabella to a safe hiding place.
The water buffalo horns of a dilemma
Let's head back to India where Andrew and his new friend John Carter have finished exchanging their personal histories and realize that Lord Lorimer is the villain who has brought misery to their lives. Lorimer enjoys power and prestige in England. He's the “the lordly depredator of social joy, trusting innocence, and connubial confidence, was revelling in perfect security; placed at the fountain-head of pleasure, he drank deeply of the intoxicating cup. Unawed by religion, unchecked by principles of justice or virtue, uncontrouled by reason, and unabashed by a sense of shame, he set at naught private opinion and public reprobation!”
Andrew and John, having come so far, quite understandably want to look around India for a bit before taking a ship back to England to be reunited with their sweethearts Isabella and Florentina. One day, Andrew rescues a girl from a charging water buffalo.
Elmira, the rescued fair one, is beautiful, she’s grateful, and her father is rich. Not only that, dad turns out to be Andrew’s uncle, who left Scotland years ago and amassed an East Indian fortune! Not only that, but Andrew’s older brother Sandy is also there—he is now an army captain! They are all overjoyed to be reunited and Andrew learns that his rich uncle has taken good care of his parents.
Let's head back to India where Andrew and his new friend John Carter have finished exchanging their personal histories and realize that Lord Lorimer is the villain who has brought misery to their lives. Lorimer enjoys power and prestige in England. He's the “the lordly depredator of social joy, trusting innocence, and connubial confidence, was revelling in perfect security; placed at the fountain-head of pleasure, he drank deeply of the intoxicating cup. Unawed by religion, unchecked by principles of justice or virtue, uncontrouled by reason, and unabashed by a sense of shame, he set at naught private opinion and public reprobation!”
Andrew and John, having come so far, quite understandably want to look around India for a bit before taking a ship back to England to be reunited with their sweethearts Isabella and Florentina. One day, Andrew rescues a girl from a charging water buffalo.
Elmira, the rescued fair one, is beautiful, she’s grateful, and her father is rich. Not only that, dad turns out to be Andrew’s uncle, who left Scotland years ago and amassed an East Indian fortune! Not only that, but Andrew’s older brother Sandy is also there—he is now an army captain! They are all overjoyed to be reunited and Andrew learns that his rich uncle has taken good care of his parents.
Jane Austen's aunt Philadelphia Hancock with her family in India, by Reynolds I think Hanway seriously undermined her message here, if her purpose was to champion the aspirations of ordinary people born without wealth or connections. Andrew was working his way up in the world through pluck and luck and virtue and hard work, but here, he might just as well exclaim: “D---n it all, if I had just stayed in my parent’s hut in the Highlands! I didn't know my uncle was about to come along and whisk my entire family to a nice house in Glasgow and he would have sponsored me in any career I chose.” Now, the only entirely self-made person in this novel is the evil lawyer Engross. Well, you could say that Barbara and Laurina have done well for themselves by becoming kept women to the nobility, but you also know that things surely can’t end well for them—can they?
I should mention in passing that though Hanway is censorious about the slave trade (we learn that in Amantha’s backstory), she doesn’t seem to have qualms about the East India Company. She specifies that Uncle Stuart’s fortune is “princely, but honourably acquired.” I know that won't satisfy modern sensibilities, but there you are.
Andrew and the beautiful Elmira are first cousins but they fall desperately in love anyway. Wait a minute, what about Isabella? Yes, Andrew barely knew her and was marrying her out of chivalry, but still, a promise is a promise. What's going on back in Wales with Isabella?
I should mention in passing that though Hanway is censorious about the slave trade (we learn that in Amantha’s backstory), she doesn’t seem to have qualms about the East India Company. She specifies that Uncle Stuart’s fortune is “princely, but honourably acquired.” I know that won't satisfy modern sensibilities, but there you are.
Andrew and the beautiful Elmira are first cousins but they fall desperately in love anyway. Wait a minute, what about Isabella? Yes, Andrew barely knew her and was marrying her out of chivalry, but still, a promise is a promise. What's going on back in Wales with Isabella?
If you don’t want to learn how this story resolves, skip this section and the next
Isabella is staying with Charles Nesbit and his antiquated aunt in Wales. Charles is sleeping in a separate wing of the castle and propriety is strictly observed. He and Isabella fall madly in love. The aunt dies, Charles is rich, he proposes to her, and she says she can’t accept because she promised to marry Andrew and until they find out what happened to him (nobody has any idea what happened to him), she can’t accept Charles's hand and anyway, doesn't he know that she grew up in a poorhouse and her sister is well, a whore?
Charles admires her sense of honour and reluctantly agrees that they will wait a year and try to find out what happened to Andrew. For propriety's sake, they must separate. She goes back to the poor curate's family where she used to work. Once again Hanway declines to give us any romantic mush: “The conversation of lovers is, no doubt, very charming…. And their plaints, most interesting to—themselves; this has been allowed time immemorial. But we shall decline giving a detail of the discourse that passed between the ill-fated pair, for these cogent reasons; that the tender aspirations, the soft whispers of the flatterer Hope, who lent its potent aid to charm their aching sense in the effervescence of the moment, might only in the recital ennui the majority of our cold-hearted readers…” But hang on, Charles does commit poetry, which I will spare you.
Over in India, Andrew likewise feels honor-bound to see if Isabella still wants to marry him before he is free to marry Elmira. As John Carter observes, it's probable that everything will turn out all right. Isabella wasn’t in love with him anyway and was marrying him for protection, so she would be likely to release him from his promise. She may have fallen in love with someone else, or “fallen a prey to the seductive arts, or unrestrained violence of the recreant Lorimore. In this case, though called on by honour to punish his atrocity, you cannot be expected to fulfill your former vows.” That is, if she's been seduced or raped, he need not feel obliged to marry her.
Still, Andrew spends the long voyage back in an agony of suspense over whether Isabella expects him to marry her or if she'd be willing to let him marry Elmira.
Isabella is staying with Charles Nesbit and his antiquated aunt in Wales. Charles is sleeping in a separate wing of the castle and propriety is strictly observed. He and Isabella fall madly in love. The aunt dies, Charles is rich, he proposes to her, and she says she can’t accept because she promised to marry Andrew and until they find out what happened to him (nobody has any idea what happened to him), she can’t accept Charles's hand and anyway, doesn't he know that she grew up in a poorhouse and her sister is well, a whore?
Charles admires her sense of honour and reluctantly agrees that they will wait a year and try to find out what happened to Andrew. For propriety's sake, they must separate. She goes back to the poor curate's family where she used to work. Once again Hanway declines to give us any romantic mush: “The conversation of lovers is, no doubt, very charming…. And their plaints, most interesting to—themselves; this has been allowed time immemorial. But we shall decline giving a detail of the discourse that passed between the ill-fated pair, for these cogent reasons; that the tender aspirations, the soft whispers of the flatterer Hope, who lent its potent aid to charm their aching sense in the effervescence of the moment, might only in the recital ennui the majority of our cold-hearted readers…” But hang on, Charles does commit poetry, which I will spare you.
Over in India, Andrew likewise feels honor-bound to see if Isabella still wants to marry him before he is free to marry Elmira. As John Carter observes, it's probable that everything will turn out all right. Isabella wasn’t in love with him anyway and was marrying him for protection, so she would be likely to release him from his promise. She may have fallen in love with someone else, or “fallen a prey to the seductive arts, or unrestrained violence of the recreant Lorimore. In this case, though called on by honour to punish his atrocity, you cannot be expected to fulfill your former vows.” That is, if she's been seduced or raped, he need not feel obliged to marry her.
Still, Andrew spends the long voyage back in an agony of suspense over whether Isabella expects him to marry her or if she'd be willing to let him marry Elmira.
View of the Hustings at Covent Garden by Gillray (detail), National Portrait Gallery Long voyage home
Long story short, as soon as Andrew gets back, he and his friend Charles sort things out and Charles is free to marry Isabella while Andrew can marry Elmira, who is following on the next ship with her father. As for John Carter, he learns that Florentina Lurcher’s parents are now dead so she is free to follow her heart and marry him. Laurina learned from the talkative footman all about Lord Lorimore’s dirty deeds in terms of kidnapping girls and shanghaiing her brother and Andrew, so she uses this information to blackmail him to marry her. Although his crimes were definitely not funny, Lord Lorimore's karmic punishment is presented in a darkly comical way: his new wife “ruled her Lord with an iron sceptre; she amply revenged the injuries of her sex, and report said he need not fear the punishments of another world, as he had found his purgatory in this!” She also cuckolds him, so his heir is really Lord Buford's son.
No retribution attends the actions of the slimy lawyer Engross. He becomes a member of Parliament and he marries a noble lady strictly for the social cachet he’ll gain. However, his two henchmen meet with bad ends. Barbara’s debauched old lover Lord Orpington dies and it turns out Charles Nesbit is the next heir. Barbara is so furious that her sister Isabella is going to be Lady Orpington that she dies from a choleric rage. A kind gentleman falls in love with Amantha, marries her, and adopts her daughter. So, of our three fallen women, only Barbara gets the authorial death penalty.
I won't go so far as to compare Hanway to Shakespeare but she has the ability to sympathetically convey the point of view of her villains. Both Barbara and Laurina had a choice between utterly dull genteel poverty or living in the lap of luxury and I have to hand it to them for their wit and resourcefulness.
Our three virtuous couples live happily ever after and provide a striking instance of the beauty of virtue and the imbecility of vice, as we say in these parts.
Long story short, as soon as Andrew gets back, he and his friend Charles sort things out and Charles is free to marry Isabella while Andrew can marry Elmira, who is following on the next ship with her father. As for John Carter, he learns that Florentina Lurcher’s parents are now dead so she is free to follow her heart and marry him. Laurina learned from the talkative footman all about Lord Lorimore’s dirty deeds in terms of kidnapping girls and shanghaiing her brother and Andrew, so she uses this information to blackmail him to marry her. Although his crimes were definitely not funny, Lord Lorimore's karmic punishment is presented in a darkly comical way: his new wife “ruled her Lord with an iron sceptre; she amply revenged the injuries of her sex, and report said he need not fear the punishments of another world, as he had found his purgatory in this!” She also cuckolds him, so his heir is really Lord Buford's son.
No retribution attends the actions of the slimy lawyer Engross. He becomes a member of Parliament and he marries a noble lady strictly for the social cachet he’ll gain. However, his two henchmen meet with bad ends. Barbara’s debauched old lover Lord Orpington dies and it turns out Charles Nesbit is the next heir. Barbara is so furious that her sister Isabella is going to be Lady Orpington that she dies from a choleric rage. A kind gentleman falls in love with Amantha, marries her, and adopts her daughter. So, of our three fallen women, only Barbara gets the authorial death penalty.
I won't go so far as to compare Hanway to Shakespeare but she has the ability to sympathetically convey the point of view of her villains. Both Barbara and Laurina had a choice between utterly dull genteel poverty or living in the lap of luxury and I have to hand it to them for their wit and resourcefulness.
Our three virtuous couples live happily ever after and provide a striking instance of the beauty of virtue and the imbecility of vice, as we say in these parts.
My review
So, a long story but a cracking good yarn. Hanway’s heroes and heroines are not insipid but it’s hard for them to hold their lustre against her villains. Barbara Nelson is an absolute force of nature, one of those characters who stalk into a novel and take over. I thought we would find out who Engross’s parents were (remember he was abandoned under a hedge by gypies), but unless I missed something, I don’t think we did. At times I got annoyed and impatient with all the backstories because they interrupted the main plot, but I have to admit it was all well paced and she tied everything together at the end.
Hanway tied her colours to the mast on her title page, in which she quotes a then-famous poem, The Pursuit of Literature by Thomas James Mathias:.
So, a long story but a cracking good yarn. Hanway’s heroes and heroines are not insipid but it’s hard for them to hold their lustre against her villains. Barbara Nelson is an absolute force of nature, one of those characters who stalk into a novel and take over. I thought we would find out who Engross’s parents were (remember he was abandoned under a hedge by gypies), but unless I missed something, I don’t think we did. At times I got annoyed and impatient with all the backstories because they interrupted the main plot, but I have to admit it was all well paced and she tied everything together at the end.
Hanway tied her colours to the mast on her title page, in which she quotes a then-famous poem, The Pursuit of Literature by Thomas James Mathias:.
 | ’Tis Satire gives the strongest light to sense To thought comprehension, vigour to the soul, To language bounds, to fancy due control, To Truth the splendor of her awful face, To learning dignity, to virtue grace, To conscience stings beneath the cap or crown, To Vice that mirror she will feel and own. That's Thomas James Mathias (1754-1835) on the left there. I put in his picture because he's better-looking than Warren Hastings. |
Champion of Warren Hastings
Andrew Stuart is dedicated to Major John Scot Waring, “whose unwearied exertions, undeviating attentions, ardent zeal, and steady adherence to the cause of an injured, persecuted friend, are above all praise.” The friend in question was Warren Hastings, a governor-general of India who underwent a seven years' long impeachment trial in the House of Commons, led by Edmund Burke. The punishment was the process, because Hastings was eventually acquitted of wrongdoing. Hanway is firmly on Hastings' side, and so, by the way, was the Austen family. They had a personal connection to Warren Hastings, and in those days, you didn't blow up your bridges with powerful people, not in a world that ran on patronage and networking.
Are we done? Well, there are so many interesting digressions and editorials in this novel. Hanway identified herself as primarily as a social critic but she was far from being a revolutionary. I want to explore that more in future blogs and share some of the things I found in this now-obscure novel. Coming up in future posts.
Andrew Stuart is dedicated to Major John Scot Waring, “whose unwearied exertions, undeviating attentions, ardent zeal, and steady adherence to the cause of an injured, persecuted friend, are above all praise.” The friend in question was Warren Hastings, a governor-general of India who underwent a seven years' long impeachment trial in the House of Commons, led by Edmund Burke. The punishment was the process, because Hastings was eventually acquitted of wrongdoing. Hanway is firmly on Hastings' side, and so, by the way, was the Austen family. They had a personal connection to Warren Hastings, and in those days, you didn't blow up your bridges with powerful people, not in a world that ran on patronage and networking.
Are we done? Well, there are so many interesting digressions and editorials in this novel. Hanway identified herself as primarily as a social critic but she was far from being a revolutionary. I want to explore that more in future blogs and share some of the things I found in this now-obscure novel. Coming up in future posts.
Jonas Hanway (1712–1786) About the author:
Mary Ann Hanway (1755-1824) was the wife of Hanway Hanway, the great nephew of a then-famous philanthropist and public intellectual, Jonas Hanway. Her husband changed his last name from Balack to Hanway to honour his great-uncle.
I have not found any genealogical records to confirm Hanway's birth and death dates, nor anything about her family. Her maiden name was Vergy or possibly Virgee. The Hanways were married in London in 1788 when they were both in their early thirties (that is, if her birth year is accurate). I have found no surviving portraits of her. She was a friend of the better-remembered authoresses Jane Porter and Mary "Perdita" Robinson.
Hanway was praised in her day as a better-than-average novelist. The publisher Crosby excerpted Andrew Stuart in his in-house periodical, The Flowers of Literature, even though it was published by his low-brow rival, the Minerva Press. She was recognized as a "forceful" writer who used satire to moral ends. In November 1808 The Scots Magazine hailed the publication of her third novel, Faulconbridge Abbey: “Mrs. Hanway brings her knowledge of society and her humorous severity in the proper period to rescue satire from the obloquy which the writers of personal scandal have brought upon it.” The Statesman announced her fourth novel thusly in August 1814: “We are happy to understand the public will soon be gratified with another Novel from the energetic pen of Mrs. Hanway, who has already conveyed such forcible moral satire in Ellinor, Andrew Stuart, and Falconbridge Abbey. The present production is entitled Christabelle, or the Maid of Rouen, and, independently of many interesting anecdotes of the French Revolution, contains much curious information regarding the profligacy of high life in the Metropolis."
Hanway also received a poetic tribute, or rather, a plea to step up her forcible moral satire to an even higher pitch. At least, I think that's what the poet is saying. Recall that in Scenes of Life, the author argued that the problem with Lovers' Vows is that it portrayed the nobility badly and did not rain retribution down on Agatha for her fall from virtue, and therefore, the play was immoral. The same could be said of the fallen women of Andrew Stuart, couldn't it? Even though, as I said, Hanway is not a progressive or a Jacobite by any means. If she was ideologically questionable, she never would have gotten an approving three-page review in The Anti-Jacobin Review for Andrew Stuart, which she did.
Mary Ann Hanway (1755-1824) was the wife of Hanway Hanway, the great nephew of a then-famous philanthropist and public intellectual, Jonas Hanway. Her husband changed his last name from Balack to Hanway to honour his great-uncle.
I have not found any genealogical records to confirm Hanway's birth and death dates, nor anything about her family. Her maiden name was Vergy or possibly Virgee. The Hanways were married in London in 1788 when they were both in their early thirties (that is, if her birth year is accurate). I have found no surviving portraits of her. She was a friend of the better-remembered authoresses Jane Porter and Mary "Perdita" Robinson.
Hanway was praised in her day as a better-than-average novelist. The publisher Crosby excerpted Andrew Stuart in his in-house periodical, The Flowers of Literature, even though it was published by his low-brow rival, the Minerva Press. She was recognized as a "forceful" writer who used satire to moral ends. In November 1808 The Scots Magazine hailed the publication of her third novel, Faulconbridge Abbey: “Mrs. Hanway brings her knowledge of society and her humorous severity in the proper period to rescue satire from the obloquy which the writers of personal scandal have brought upon it.” The Statesman announced her fourth novel thusly in August 1814: “We are happy to understand the public will soon be gratified with another Novel from the energetic pen of Mrs. Hanway, who has already conveyed such forcible moral satire in Ellinor, Andrew Stuart, and Falconbridge Abbey. The present production is entitled Christabelle, or the Maid of Rouen, and, independently of many interesting anecdotes of the French Revolution, contains much curious information regarding the profligacy of high life in the Metropolis."
Hanway also received a poetic tribute, or rather, a plea to step up her forcible moral satire to an even higher pitch. At least, I think that's what the poet is saying. Recall that in Scenes of Life, the author argued that the problem with Lovers' Vows is that it portrayed the nobility badly and did not rain retribution down on Agatha for her fall from virtue, and therefore, the play was immoral. The same could be said of the fallen women of Andrew Stuart, couldn't it? Even though, as I said, Hanway is not a progressive or a Jacobite by any means. If she was ideologically questionable, she never would have gotten an approving three-page review in The Anti-Jacobin Review for Andrew Stuart, which she did.
| To Mrs. Hanway of Blackheath, authoress of “Ellinor,” “Andrew Stuart,” and other admired publications. If the loose pen, licentiously refin’d, To raise the passions, and pervert the mind; If the immoral, yet seducing lays, Obtain the laurel, and the palm of praise; If wit be suffered, unrestrain’d, to move The modest blush, and check sweet virtuous love; What meed is due to HANWAY? Firmly bold, View her each winding of the heart unfold, In “Ellinor” each unaspiring youth may see “Howard’s” MILD WORTH, and study Modesty; Whilst Dareall, boldly gay, not wanting sense, Shews in his fall the fate of impudence, In “Andrew Stuart” Satire dips her pen In Truth’s fair stream, and writes that “Such are Men;” Why, then, sweet Moralist! Decline the task Which Nature, Reason, and sweet Virtue ask? Boldly to Vice the scourge of Truth impart, Improve the manners, and correct the heart; So shall, in after-times, thy well-earn’d fame, Be handed down with FIELDING’S, SMOLLETT’S name! -- T.B. Sloane-Street, Friday evening. Oracle and Daily Advertiser Dec 2 1801 | The Anti-Jacobin Review hailed Andrew Stuart as: “the second production from the pen of the much respected author of Ellinor, on which we bestowed that applause its moral tendency, and just delineation of “The World as it is,” truly merited; and we are glad to find our opinion of that performance corroborated almost unanimously by our brother Reviewers. "It is with pleasure, therefore, that we announce the present work as an improvement upon the former, and as approaching very near to that excellence in this species of writing, which distinguishes the works of Richardson and Fielding from those unnatural, flimsy and intriguing fictions, that are daily issued from the press, and are calculated to promote false taste, to vitiate the judgment, and to seduce unthinking youth not only to waste their time, but likewise to form vain ‘castles in the air.' The critic particularly praised Hanway's realism: “In the Northern Wanderer nothing of the marvellous will be found; all is simple and natural; not a single incident occurs, which might not have happened in the chequered vicissitudes of human life to any other man.” One might not be abducted on your wedding day and taken to a castle in Wales, but Hanway's husband's famous relative, Jonas Hanway, and her nephew-in-law Thomas Potter Cooke, both survived hairbreadth escapades at sea, as Andrew does. Crazy things happened to people back then. |
The Critical Review stated: "Although the work before us is rather a collection of smaller histories than one united tale, (for, to use the author’s own words, the notes are longer than the story) yet the novel-reader will at times be highly gratified by the wanderings of Andrew Stuart...."
Hanway has also been credited with the authorship of a book of travel writing about a trip to Scotland, but this slim volume (and none of her other works suffer from brevity) was published anonymously in 1777. She never subsequently claimed authorship of it. Her four novels were published under her name. Modern scholars dispute the attribution.
Hanway has also been credited with the authorship of a book of travel writing about a trip to Scotland, but this slim volume (and none of her other works suffer from brevity) was published anonymously in 1777. She never subsequently claimed authorship of it. Her four novels were published under her name. Modern scholars dispute the attribution.
Hanway's signature on a letter to Jane Porter, congratulating her on Thaddeus of Warsaw, New York Public Library
| Previous post: Andrew Stuart, part one Next post: More outspoken than Austen, (again) The History Reclaimed website has many resources on the East India Company and retrospective views of the British Empire. I've also been enjoying listening to the podcast, The Rest is History, about all things historical. |
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