Here is another novel by the great Charlotte Yonge (for whom see Novels003,053,103,155,210, and261).
Yonge “spares no pains to discover fresh varieties of character, or to define them sharply and distinctly. For these reasons her stories are generally worth a great deal of study. . . . ‘The Clever Woman of the Family’ is well written, and teaches a good moral. . . . Upon the whole . . . the book will be read with pleasure; and it has this great advantage over many recent novels, that the author has evidently had some personal acquaintance with the phases of society that she describes.” Athenaeum, April 8, 1865
“Unquestionably the best of her novels, and a book that any writer of the day might be proud to own. In the management of a large family no one . . . is equal to Miss Yonge; she absolutely revels in the pranks and frolics of ten or a dozen brothers and sisters, all discriminated in character with a nicety of touch that belongs to a woman’s pen alone.” New York Times, June 19, 1865
A contrasting view:
“We are transported into a somewhat mawkish paradise of earnest people. . . . The purposeless anatomy of small feminine scruples and self-communings is carried out to a tedious extent.” Reader, May 27,1865
“One of the most ingenious of crimes is detailed in The Danvers Jewels, and the secret is well kept until the end; then it is brought home in a manner that will surprise the reader. . . . a study of really considerable interest” Academy, September 3, 1887
“Those who read the little sensational novel called ‘The Danvers Jewels,’ when it came out two years ago, must certainly have done so with pleasure.” Athenaeum, November 9, 1889
A virtuous young lady is driven by poverty to do wrong.
This is the seventh novel I have recommended by the great “Mrs. Alexander.” For the others, see myindexof works by recommended authors.
The characters are “finely sketched and delicately discriminated,” the dialogue “delightfully human and individually characteristic.” Saturday Review, August 10, 1889
“The story takes form and colour as it proceeds, and the characters impress us gradually with their force in the only natural manner.” Athenaeum, August 10, 1889
The author, “one of the most capable producers of . . . circulating-library fiction” has “never done anything better.” Spectator, August 31, 1889
A twice-divorced woman schemes to regain social respectability.
Frances Charles Philips (1849-1921) was an army officer and a barrister before becoming a novelist; he wrote some 28 works of fiction, of which this was the first.
“Mr. Philips’s story is a work of art, and, being much superior to the rough sketches of an average novelist, it discharges the true function of every work of art by representing things as they actually are, and teaching the observer to discriminate between appearances and realities.” Saturday Review, March 6, 1886
A contrasting view:
“As in a Looking-Glass is an essentially bad book. I wish it had not been necessary to say this, as it is written with much sprightliness. . . . The novel is vulgar and disgusting, and, in some respects, worse than any of M. Zola’s; but, in the present temper of the novel-reading public, it will probably be read all the more on that account.” Academy, September 19, 1885
John Ballantyne, Sir Joseph Noel Paton, Artist (Shown in his Studio)
Four sisters, nearly bankrupt at the death of their father, set up a photography shop.
Amy Levy (1861-1889) wrote only three novels before her early death by suicide. This level-headed, good-natured account of four young women’s struggle against adversity would not lead one to expect such a fate for its author.
“Miss Levy’s story is bright and fresh; there is a dash of originality in the idea and plenty of spirit in its execution”; it is “told with both humour and pathos.” Athenaeum, October 27, 1888
“There is a quality of ‘liveness’ in the book, a faculty of dialogue, and some scraps and bits of character drawing here and there, which carry the reader pleasantly through for the present, and give good promise for the future.” Academy, November 19, 1888
Helen Allingham, Thatched Cottage, West Horsley, Surrey
A cosmopolitan young man inherits a country estate, then has to deal with his older nephew, whose boyish charm and speculative ventures cause trouble.
Here is yet another novel by Norris, for whom see Novels002,054,104,156,209, and260.
“The story is excellent, the characters stand firmly upon their feet, and the style has that combination of smoothness and vigour which is so difficult to achieve and so charming when achieved; . . . one of the cleverest and brightest novels of the season.” Spectator, November 24, 1888
“Mr. Andrew Lang, in a recent number of the Contemporary Review made a remark to the effect that Mr. W. E. Norris was—if I may use an advertising phrase—an ‘excellent substitute’ for Thackeray. Such a comparison is meant to be complimentary, but it is apt to be damaging. Mr. Norris is not Thackeray, but he is himself, and our plain duty is to be grateful for the mercies of the present without casting a regretful glance at the mercies of the past. . . . There is not a conventional or clumsily-drawn portrait in the book, even supernumeraries . . . being finished to the finger-tips. . . . In happy little bits of phrasing The Rogue is very rich . . . When the book-maker of the future compiles a volume of the ‘Wit and Wisdom of W.E. Norris,’ he will find The Rogue a happy hunting-ground.” Academy, November 24, 1888
N.B. The above links are, for the present, inoperable, because the British Library’s website has not yet recovered from a criminal attack. Meanwhile, a downloadable version of the novel, in its complete form, is, apparently, otherwise unavailable. Google Books offers volume 1 of the 2-volume Tauchnitz edition here:
A site called Hathi Trust offers downloadable pdfs only to members of elite institutions, though the texts inolved are and have long been in the public domain. I am excluded; probably you are too. But we can page through the novel online here:
The whole situation neatly illustrates a sad internet irony: in order to block criminals, web sites put in place elaborate security barriers that block honest users—but don’t block criminals.
A selfish scholar uses his daughter as an assistant, neglecting her happiness.
For Lucas Malet (the pseudonym of Mary St. Leger Kingsley Harrison), seeNovel 28.
It has “finish and delicacy of workmanship”; it “does not aim very high; but it is such a perfect piece of execution, and works out with so fine a touch all that it does aim at, that it would require us to go back to Miss Austen to find anything that better deserved the praise of fine form, fine grouping, fine colouring, humorous delineation, and precision of design.” Spectator, June 9, 1888
“A study of characters rather than a plot, and exhibits considerable graphic faculty. The author sees her personages clearly, and sets them vividly before us.” It is “not only a good piece of work, but has the note of distinction.” Academy, July 7, 1888
An alternative view:
It “opens extremely well, and the reader’s disappointment is all the greater when he finds it gradually dwindle into a tale in the manner of Mr. [Henry] James” with “no story” and “extremely uninteresting” characters. Athenaeum, June 16, 1888
Here is another entirely excellent novel by the unjustly unsung Glaister, for whom seeNovel 106.
A “ladylike novelette. . . . On the whole, the tone of this little story is high, and its literary merit is not small.” Athenaeum, August 23, 1879
“The story of an unhappy love, which the writer contrives to tell without leaving a painful impression.” Spectator, March 20, 1879
A (somewhat) contrasting view:
“Carefully and loyally as A Constant Woman is written, its main thread is of coarsest fibre. . . . It is not that the story is coarse or unreal in tone, for it describes a narrow and commonplace phase of life with fidelity and even force. . . . The characters, too, are natural enough. . . . But we entirely fail to discover what peculiarly high or healthy inspiration the youthful mind can draw from this fount of straitlaced villainy and genteel sharp practice. . . . When The Constant Woman is put into young miss’s hands it is high time to hunt for Not Wisely, but Too Well, beneath her pillow.” Academy, August 16, 1880
A dowager viscountess takes up two young ladies for the London season.
Mary A. Lewis (1849-1915) wrote one novel, this one; though her inexperience may show in her pleasantly naive tendency to favor us with miscellaneous and sometimes irrelevant reflections, she seems otherwise confident and assured, with interesting characters and a good plot.
“A slight, but very pleasantly readable, society novel, describing a pair of well-contrasted young ladies . . . The various characters are fairly, though lightly, sketched in.” Academy, May 21, 1881
“On the whole, for a story of its calibre, the tale of the two pretty girls is not badly told.” Athenaeum, June 4, 1881
“The story is . . . neither complicated nor extraordinarily exciting, but it is pleasant, cheerful, and readable, and it contains both agreeable conversations and natural sketches of character.” Saturday Review, June 18, 1881
A parvenu family rents an old estate while its owner lives on a nearby farm.
A. M. Monro wrote four novels between 1886 and 1901. Nothing else appears to be known about her (?), despite her impressive ability to create characters and represent their interactions clearly and sympathetically.
“The theme is brightly and sympathetically handled, and the relations” between characters “are drawn with real charm and genuine feeling.” Athenaeum, May 5, 1888
“A delightfully fresh and interesting story.” Academy, May 26, 1888
“A simple, pleasing tale” in “well-written English.” Saturday Review, June 9, 1888
Alas, the British Libraries’ collection remains unavailable. Until it returns, I will make this novel available myself, divided into three parts to accommodate Squarespace’s file-size limits:
Various families interact in a picturesque Scottish village.
Nothing appears to be certainly known of Elizabeth Taylor except that she wrote two novels, this and Blindpits (1868), and a collection of stories, Jack and Mrs. Brown (1883).
“We have not seen very many novels this season that we should be inclined to rank above it.” Athenaeum, July 19, 1873
The author “has the . . . faculty . . . of making a small circle engrossingly interesting” and is unique in her “peculiar form of humour, and the neatness with which she puts a situation or a problem. . . . The constructive skill of the story is remarkable.” Spectator, August 2, 1873
“She knows Scotch character with that completeness of intuitive comprehension which unerringly catches what to others would seem insignificant traits, and makes them henceforth typical. Seldom have we read a more sufficient piece of work. There is no pretence, no aim at high things; and yet out of the ordinary hum-drum life of a Scottish hamlet a sort of quiet tragedy gradually develops itself. . . . The author is par excellence a humorist, and, like George Eliot, conceives of incident as something dependent on and developed out of character rather than otherwise. It is not to be expected that she should drive the sensationalists out of the field; but it is something that we have such healthy testimony as this against sensationalism in life and in art.” British Quarterly Review, October, 1873
A clever, witty, sensitive, but unlovely young woman is mistreated at home and in society.
The anonymous author of this novel (so careful of her anonymity that she negotiated with a publisher through newspaper advertisements) apparently wrote only one other novel, Poor Nellie, which appeared four years later. This one combines a relentless, despairing commentary on human nature with a tireless sense of fun.
“This singular book deals with that religion and morality of mediocrity which were adopted, like other fashions, by the last generation of London society at its most fashionable, most vacuous, most profoundly vulgar epoch. . . . Never before has this degraded phase of life been so powerfully and minutely analysed, because never before with such bitter experience or in a spirit so forgiving and so charitable. . . . This genuine, if not faultess, book introduces us to a writer who has keenness, observation, good sense, real sentiment, and singular pathos—one who can both feel and think and write.” Academy, March 24, 1883
“It is . . . a work of great ability, by one who observes keenly and at the same time sees deeply into character. She has the power of presenting real people. Description and analysis have not made them inert bundles of qualities and defects—the lay figures which often stand for human nature in the work of even the better sort of novelists. . . . . The trivial life is passed chiefy at a dull country house. So dull is the house, and so lively is the author’s picture of it, that the reader feels oppressed by it himself, and is therefore ready to give to the heroine that warm sympathy which a skilful writer must always try to get.” Athenaeum, March 31, 1883
“The story is anything but ‘trivial,’ and the writer is gifted with an unusual share of wit and perspicacity. The deep melancholy that pervades the book is relieved here and there by keen flashes of satire on the foibles and follies of modern English society. The picture is cleverly drawn, and not overcharged.” Westminster Review, July 1883
“If the reader is inclined to doubt the proposition that novel writing is becoming every day more difficult and less interesting, let him consult his own mind, and see how many novels proper among the hundreds that have been published within the last five years, and which deal in any way with every day contemporary life, have excited his profound interest. The present writer can at the moment recall but two—one was called ‘My Trivial Life and Misfortunes,’ by an unknown author, and the other, ‘The Story of a South African Farm,’ by Ralph Iron. But then neither of these books if examined into would be found to be a novel such as the ordinary writer produces once or twice a year. Both of them are written from within, and not from without; both convey the impression of being the outward and visible result of inward personal suffering on the part of the writer, for in each the key-note is a note of pain. Differing widely from the ordinary run of manufactured books, they owe their chief interest to a certain atmosphere of spiritual intensity, which could not in all probability be even approximately reproduced.” H. Rider Haggard, “About Fiction,” in Contemporary Review, February 1887
A virtuous young lady flees from her persecutors in London to a fisherman’s cottage on the island of Sark.
Hesba Stretton (1832-1911), née Sarah Smith, wrote over sixty works of fiction, most of them children’s books which, despite their evangelical purpose, were immensely popular: Jessica’s First Prayer (1866) sold well over a million copies. Her odd pen-name was made up of the first initials of her own and her four siblings’ names, and the name of a Shropshire village.
“The best novel of the week. . . . In descriptive writing the authoress must be given a high place, and there is a good deal of life in the story.” Athenaeum, February 15, 1873
“A fascinating story, which scarcely flags in interest from the first page to the last”; it is “not a great book” but “we are ready to confess that since the publication of ‘Jane Eyre,’ we can hardly remember a novel which has excited in us a more continuously absorbing interest.” British Quarterly Review, April 1873
“This is a tale of unusual merit and interest. . . . Everything about The Doctor’s Dilemma is worthy of praise. The tone of feeling is sound and wholesome, the story interesting, and the characters drawn with much force and distinctness.” Spectator, July 5, 1873
NB: The British Library’s website remains unavailable, affecting the links above and many others on this site. Someday, we hope, it will return. Meanwhile: a one-volume American edition is available here:
Paul Fordyce Maitland, The Bayswater Road from Kensington Gardens
A cultivated and ambitious young lady seeks her place in the world.
Leonora Blanche Lang, née Alleyne (1851-1933) wrote only this one novel; however, she was largely responsible for the series of twelve collections of fairy tales (the Blue Fairy Book and its variously-colored successors) edited by her husband and fellow novelist, Andrew Lang. This novel, like the fairy book translations, displays her quiet wit and polished style.
“The only draw back to its universal circulation that we can perceive is that” it lacks the pleasure “which seems to consist in seeing how people in fiction live in a manner which is neither the reader’s manner nor that of any human beings who ever breathed the vital air. If this latter delight does chiefly move any man or woman, let him or her by no means read Mrs. Lang. Neither let him read her if he wants bad taste or bad manners or bad French . . . or bad morals. Neither let him read her if he cannot see a joke, for here be many jokes; neither if he wants passions ‘grand, epic, homicidal,’ for here, though the feeling shown is quite natural and human, it is by no means always or often in altitudes. This is, we admit, warning off a very considerable clientele, and it is possible that Mrs. Lang may be the reverse of grateful to us. But ruat cælum. We have not in the least exaggerated the pleasure and pastime which the book is pretty certain to give to people of good breeding, reasonably wide interests, good taste, and a slight inclination to the humorous view of life. It is a pity, perhaps, that some of the things here are not enshrined in a more durable setting; for the book is deliberately, and almost provokingly, ephemeral in design. But this design is so closely connected with what is best in it, with its pleasant fashion of daffing the world aside and bidding it pass, that it is almost illogical to grumble. In fact, a very determined moralist with a sense of humour (supposing there to be such a person) might detect a moral in the slightness with which the book is put together. Into these regions, however, it is not necessary to enter; and all that is necessary is once more to express thanks to Mrs. Lang for this agreeable entertainment, in which she has chosen to make the figures come like shadows and so depart. There is something remarkably lifelike in your shadow; and, save in quite exceptional circumstances, he is one of the most agreeable of companions.” Saturday Review, June 14, 1884
“The plot may be regarded as disappointing by some readers; but, whatever the story loses in that respect, it more than makes up for by caustic cleverness in writing. We get a series of pictures rather than a consecutive narrative. Its real interest lies in the writer’s charming style and power of saying good things. . . . In fact, these Dissolving Views are very vivid and very entertaining while they last.” Academy, June 21, 1884
At present, the British Library’s website has been, oh so sadly, taken offline because of a ransomware attack, rendering a great many links on this website temporarily useless. Until it returns, one may download the American reprint here:
Alexander Mark Rossi, On the Shores of Bognor Regis
A newly married woman goes to live with her army officer husband’s straight-laced family.
Menella Bute Smedley (1820-1877), cousin of Frank Smedley (seeNovel 048), wrote eight novels between 1849 and 1868; this one features sharply delineated characters in a quiet domestic scene.
“There is no doubt that ‘Linnet’s Trial’ will find many admirers; it is a well-sustained story, and the characters are elaborated with a firm hand, and evidences of a perception at once keen and clear. . . . The volumes are beautifully printed on delicate cream-tinted paper.” Art Journal, April 1864
“A pretty, well-written story. . . . The conversations are lively and clever, and the incidents sufficiently interesting.” Athenaeum, June 18, 1864
“A very interesting story. The discrimination of character is really remarkable, and quite without visible effort. . . . It may be recommended for the youngest of young ladies.” Spectator, September 3, 1864
George Frederick Watts, Miss Mary Kirkpatrick Brunton
A retired merchant, wanting an aristocratic wife and a seat in parliament, tries advertising for both in the newspapers.
Here is the second novel by Henry Milton, Anthony Trollope’s uncle (for the first seeNovel 031). I have now recommended at least one novel for each of the 64 years of Victoria’s reign.
It “bears about as much resemblance to life as the broadest farce; but when the improbability is got over, the farce is ludicrous enough. The writing is vigorous and straightforward.” Spectator, January 18, 1845
“The principal characters are cleverly drawn, and the natural course of their progress in life is dramatic, though simple and unforced into striking situations. The course runs easy; the descriptions of men, manners, and things, are the result of sensible observation; and the interest of the whole tale leads the reader on to the end with sufficient effect. . . . Some of the humorous scenes are ludicrous enough, but rather overdone.” Literary Gazette, January 25, 1845
“The story is skilfully developed, . . . the characters are in general well and cleverly individualised. There are several passages in the work that cannot fail to leave on the reader a strong sense of narrative power in the author.” New Monthly Magazine, February, 1845
“Bating an evil propensity to exaggerate, Lady Cecilia Farrencourt is excellently written; and in spite of it, we must not scruple to confess that the book has not a little amused us. The heroine . . . is cleverly drawn; there is a lively, spirited, easy tone in the writing; a great deal of good sense and good-nature; a nice perception of the ludicrous; and perhaps some excuse for even the broadest passages of caricature, in a prevailing abundance of animal spirits.” Examiner, February 8, 1845
A virtuous young lady’s cousin breaks their engagement to marry an adventuress.
This is the second of this anonymous author’s novels (the first, Broomhill, had appeared three years earlier). Despite some period clichés (e.g., the ideal clergyman who, after final exhortations to his family, expires with a heaven-witnessing smile), it represents some delightfully bad marriages.
“With greater powers of writing and more knowledge of life than usually belongs to the circulating library novel, Married Women is essentially of that class. . . . The scenes, though not wanting in power or spirit, possess that faded air which characterizes general imitation. But there is the main thing in a novel—a well-varied story, told with sufficient rapidity, relieved by secondary fortunes without complex involution, and if not reminding one of the actual yet rarely outraging probability. It is a book for the reader rather than the critic; though better adapted to the main end of writing, that of pleasing the class of readers for whom it is designed, than some fictions of a more vaulting ambition.” Spectator, March 10 1855
“We have read this novel ourselves with much pleasure, and we have no doubt that many others will do the same. If rigidly criticized, the story will be found straggling:—it concerns too many people, who are all independent of each other, and do not work together to produce unity of result. But, notwithstanding this, the book is extremely interesting, and, what is more, the tendency is healthy and unexceptionable. The characters are well and firmly drawn. . . . Some of the scenes evince quiet power and force of delineation, without ambitious straining after effect.” Athenaeum, March 17, 1855
A contrasting view:
“Milk-and-water triviality. . . . We suppose there is still a public for novels like this among the clients of circulating libraries in provincial towns; and, after all, an interest in such feeble creations is better than blank ennui or indulgence in acrid gossip.” Westminster Review, July 1855
Johann Hermann Carmiencke, Poughkeepsie Iron Works (Bech’s Furnace)
A virtuous young lady moves into a Hudson River town after years in Germany.
Charlotte Dunning Wood, born in 1858 or 1859 in Poughkeepsie, New York, wrote two novels and various stories before marrying Edward Linn Morse (the youngest son of Samuel F.B. Morse, inventor of the code that bears his name) in 1888. She died in 1898.
“For an entertaining summer story, Upon a Cast, by Charlotte Dunning, may be recommended. The name is meaningless, but the story is effectively told. Society life in a fashionable town on the Hudson . . . , the embarrassment of one fair maid with two unfortunate lovers . . . form the subject matter of the book, which is agreeably free from dark and treasonable shadows. Miss Dunning deserves special praise for the ease and naturalness of her narrative.” Jewish Messenger, July 3, 1885
“A very bright American story. . . . The characters . . . are described with a trenchant and familiar pen. The characters are well drawn and though the incidents are ordinary ones, they are handled with skill. It is a very pleasant and entertaining book.” Texas Siftings, July 11, 1885
“Bright and brisk; its story is sufficient, to say the least; its people are pleasant, well bred, well educated, clever; and its dialogue, which is abundant, is admirable and to the point.” Saturday Review, April 17, 1886
A (somewhat) contrasting view:
“An unusually bright and pretty story, without being remarkable for either power or originality.” Portland Daily Press, July 8, 1885
“A good story, and of a kind that demands a hearty welcome. . . . It is admirably written, in a style that combines ease and carefulness, and it is as refined and elevated as it is clever.” Spectator, April 13, 1878
“There is much skill in Mrs. Paul’s method of bringing together the different threads of her narrative and keeping her reader’s attention upon a plot which has enough and not too much ramification, while it contains no incident which does not bear upon the progress of the story.” Examiner, May 18, 1878
“This cannot be called a powerful novel, but it is a good one: thoughtful, well-written, and marked by a reticence, here and there, which speaks volumes for the culture and fine feeling of the author.” Contemporary Review, September, 1878
A virtuous young lady loves a landscape painter, her childhood playmate.
For Hunt, seeNovel 039; above is a painting by her husband, who was, like the novel’s hero, a landscape painter.
It combines “shrewd observation with an excellent style of simple English.” Athenaeum, December 18, 1880
“In these days of the multiplication of words and darkening of knowledge, the reviewer is generally thankful and grateful for signs of excellence in any one branch of novel-writing—for a well-conceived plot, for clever condensations, for life-like characters. What must be his feelings, therefore, towards a writer who excels in a high degree in each of these branches, and gives us a book containing characters which become as real to us as Mr. Elton and Mr. Collins have done, and fragments of conversation and description which will for ever be interwoven with the subjects of which they treat.” Academy, January 8, 1881
A contrasting view:
“The reviewer . . . has found the ‘Casket’ so unusually leaden he can do little more than raise the lid and clap it to again.” New York Times, March 13, 1881
