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Showing posts with label Northanger Abbey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Northanger Abbey. Show all posts

Thursday, 18 February 2021

Jane Austen In Early 1816

Early in 1816, Jane Austen's brother Henry retrieved her manuscript 'Susan', an early version of Northanger Abbey, from a publisher named Crosby, who had bought it from Jane for £10 thirteen years earlier but never published it. It's thought that Jane revised it during this year, and gave her heroine a new name - Catherine Morland. However, Jane may have felt that her novel was now rather out of date, because although she wrote an advertisement for the work, it was not published until after her death. 

The second edition of Jane Austen's Mansfield Park was published by John Murray sometime in February 1816. (There are some fascinating documents relating to Austen in the John Murray Archive at the National Library of Scotland). The first edition, published by Egerton, had sold out fairly quickly but had not been reprinted, so Jane must have been hopeful that a more well-known publisher would help 'puff' her book. 

However, in the event, Mansfield Park did not sell at all well, and Murray had to reduce the price. You can see some readers' opinions of Mansfield Park and Emma (published in December 1815) collected by Jane Austen here

Image from the author's collection: a 'carriage dress' or 'morning dress' made from 'finest dark blue ladies' cloth' and head-dress 'a la mode de Paris', Ackermann's Repository, January 1816. 


Monday, 16 December 2019

A Visit to Blaise Castle

Blaise Castle
"Blaize Castle!" cried Catherine. "What is that?"
"The finest place in England—worth going fifty miles at any time to see."
"What, is it really a castle, an old castle?"
"The oldest in the kingdom."
"But is it like what one reads of?"
"Exactly—the very same."
"But now really—are there towers and long galleries?"
"By dozens."
"Then I should like to see it..."

In Northanger Abbey, Catherine Morland, who loves 'horrid' novels, longs to explore the wonders of Blaize (Blaise) Castle and 'all the happiness which its walls could supply—the happiness of a progress through a long suite of lofty rooms, exhibiting the remains of magnificent furniture, though now for many years deserted—the happiness of being stopped in their way along narrow, winding vaults, by a low, grated door; or even of having their lamp, their only lamp, extinguished by a sudden gust of wind, and of being left in total darkness.' 


Blaise Castle House Museum
However, she was completely misled by that sad 'rattle' John Thorpe. Far from being an 'old' castle, the Gothic edifice they planned to visit was only about thirty years old when Jane Austen was composing her novel.

The Castle, built in 1766 by estate owner Thomas Farr, was described as 'paltry' in size, but a 'very pleasing object' by Charles Heath in 1819 (Historical and Descriptive Accounts... of Chepstow, 6th edition).

Farr's manor house was replaced in the early 1790s with a beautiful neoclassical house (now Blaise Castle House Museum) designed by William Paty for new owner John Scandrett Harford (the elder).


Humphry Repton's view from the House.

Nash's Dairy.
Humphry Repton designed the picturesque views and park for the house, and John Nash added a charming Orangery and thatched Dairy (1804).

 Sadly, the Orangery was looking somewhat neglected when we visited earlier this year.









Blaise Hamlet, a wonderful collection of cottages also designed by John Nash, is just a couple of minutes' walk from the Museum.

 The houses, built in 1812 by George Repton, one of Humphry's sons, are now cared for by the National Trust.

One of Nash's cottages at Blaise Hamlet. 

Friday, 13 November 2015

Dr Johnson's House




17 Gough Square

In 1755, twenty years before Jane Austen was born, Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary was published. According to its preface, this mammoth undertaking rescued the English language, ‘hitherto neglected’ from the corruption of ignorance, and caprices of innovation’.
The parlour

We know from Henry Austen’s Biographical Notice of his sister that Dr Johnson was Jane’s favourite moral writer in prose. Northanger Abbey contains a well-known reference to Johnson and his Dictionary: Henry Tilney’s joking reproof to Catherine Morland. 






When Catherine (not the brightest of Austen’s heroines) discusses her favourite novel with her friend Eleanor Tilney and her brother, she asks: ‘Do not you think Udolpho the nicest book in the world?’
The powdering closet in the parlour.
Henry replies: ‘The nicest: by which I suppose you mean the neatest. That must depend upon the binding’. 
Johnson's chair from the Cock Tavern.



‘Henry’, said Miss Tilney, ‘you are very impertinent. Miss Morland…the word “nicest”, as you used it, did not suit him; and you had better change it as soon as you can, or we shall be overpowered with Johnson and Blair all the rest of the way’.



The first floor.

The author in 18th century dress. Without the heels!
Like Jane Austen, I love Johnson’s wit and wisdom, and I was thrilled when I finally got a chance to visit his house at 17 Gough Square. It’s packed with memorabilia, portraits and prints, and a fabulous library of 18th century works. I even got a chance to dress up as an eighteenth-century lady! The wig was very hot, I assure you.  
The first floor.
Mrs Thrale's tea set.



Friday, 4 September 2015

The Great Undressed


Courtesy Library of Congress.

Traditionally, English fashion followed Parisian modes. The French Revolution (1789) overturned fashion as well as society and ladies abandoned the courtly styles of the ancien regime. They adopted a simple ‘Grecian’ or ‘classical’ look with bare arms, and gowns as straight as a wax candle. 
Lady's Monthly Museum, Dec 1798.

La Belle AssemblĂ©e (September 1807) recalled this startling change, led by the daring Mme Tallien of Paris: ‘Nakedness, absolute nakedness, and nothing but nakedness, was therefore seen at the play-houses, at the opera, at the concerts, routs, and in public walks as well as in private assemblies. When one lady left off a fichue [a piece of linen pinned or tied across the bodice], another laid aside a petticoat.  When one uncovered her arms, another exposed her legs or thighs.  Had the progress of stripping continued a little longer...French ladies would in some months have reduced themselves to be admired, envied, or blamed, as the Eves of the eighteenth century’. Mme Tallien’s rival, Mme de Beauharnois, wore ‘flesh coloured satin pantaloons, leaving off all petticoats’ under a ‘clear muslin gown’. 

White muslin gowns were a fashion staple: the elegant Miss Tilney in Austen’s Northanger Abbey ‘always wears white’.Dresses with trains were worn for morning and full dress: heroine Catherine Morland and her friend Isabella ‘pinned up each other’s trains for the dance’. However, a few years later trains fell out of favour even for full dress as gowns became shorter.
Courtesy Library of Congress. Note the short gowns.


The train’s disappearance had an unfortunate side-effect because of the diaphanous gowns in fashion. One's bottom was practically on show, so fundamentally modest ladies wore an ‘invisible petticoat’ to hide their nether regions.  This was a band of very finely knitted material, tightly fitted so that it did not slip down, but it made walking difficult. Luckily by the winter of 1807 trains trimmed with broad lace reappeared for evening dress, although petticoats were now so short that ladies' ankles could be seen by admiring gentlemen.