I loved Yonge’s Daisy Chain series and was excited to read her again, so I decided on her first book, “Abbeychurch”. I was a little disappointed because it did not even rate near the other two I had read but I enjoyed this nonetheless. It was a bit choppy at first but as I continued it became easier to read. I read from a Delphi complete edition of her works that included the below synopsis. As stated below the consecration is not told in detail but a very quick overview which kept me wondering what the ceremony all contained. This story is about a clergyman’s family and relatives. Mr. Woodbourne has been remarried after his wife’s death, so the children of both marriages as well as extended family issues are the main stay. This had a little of a Jane Austin feel, in the relation to the characters exchange. The religious element less apparent compared to Pansy or Grace Livingston Hill. The segment of the learned ladies exchanging their thoughts on history was quite dry and over my head, not knowing English or Greek history to that extent. It is sad to see how socialism has gained ground since then, it becomes clearer how it and especially communism looks to decrease religion in general. There are lessons learned about self control and self conceit which looking back at Victorian era quite different than this era of basically everything goes. It is sad to see how big of a change has taken place and how if a person of that time where transported in the future, what a high culture shock would ensue. The use of “vulgar” is quite silly here, it seems that “vulgar” is too broad and I was glad that after a time the word rarely came up again, the beginning of the book it was overused. I hope as I read her again, it will be more in the line of the “Daisy Chain” which is indeed a wonderful read.
Story in short- The Woodbournes are celebrating the new church with extended family and the interplay with the family members.
"This novel was published in 1844 and features as its theme a topic that must have been dear to the heart of Yonge, who was a devout Anglican: the consecration of a new church; in this case in the fictional town of Abbeychurch St Mary’s. A quotation from the sermons of Cardinal John Henry Newman, friend of the Oxford movement (a high church theological group with which Yonge was closely acquainted) prefaces the book, and is an interesting reflection of the author’s own preoccupations. On its publication the Cambridge Chronicle of 10 August 1844 (apart from attributing the novel to the wrong author) stated that it was a story aimed at the younger reader, but it is more accurate to describe it as light reading for any age group."
"The story straddles the consecration of the new church of St Austin’s in Abbeychurch St Mary’s. The town is a place of contrasts — the gentility of the old local society, and the new trades and suburbs of mid Victorian England — in this case, an influx of “new money” retiring into the area to live in the newly constructed villas. As urbanised industrial and residential areas developed in the English provinces, the Anglican church found itself ill-equipped to cater for the growing populations and did not have enough churches"
"for many urban areas, so the building of a new church would have been a theme familiar to many readers in the mid nineteenth century — as Yonge puts it, “a deficiency in church accommodation was soon felt”. Closer to home, no doubt Yonge’s father’s involvement in the building or rebuilding of three churches had an impact on her choice of subject for this novel."
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"In addition, Lizzie, a central character and one of the daughters of the local vicar, also personifies contemporary contrasts; although she has impeccable credentials socially, she also seems not to fit them, being adventurous, lively and rather impatient of the restrictions of her life — she is “the merriest of the merry party”. Lizzie is also passionate about romantic tales of chivalry, to the point where she, her easy-going friend Anne and a family acquaintance, Harriet, make an ill-advised decision to go to a lecture on chivalry at the newly built Mechanic’s Institute (a form of adult education venue for working people) in the town, despite being warned by her sister Helen: “Do you not know... that Socialists often hold"
"forth at Mechanic’s Institutes?” to which Lizzie retorts that that sort of thing happened more in the North, not where they lived, and not to worry as they would not turn into Chartists anyway. To the dismay of the family and their circle of acquaintance, the visit by the vicar’s daughter to the Institute is gleefully reported in the local press, a severe lesson to the girls not to transgress social boundaries. The mistake is compounded when it transpires that Fido the dog, who should have been in their care, was accidentally"
"drowned, whilst the girls were in the Institute. After the event, Lizzie finds out that her father was vehemently opposed to the arrival of the Institute in the town, and had declared he never wanted his daughters to go near the place. How will he react to news of Lizzie’s actions? A novel with a diverse array of characters, Abbeychurch offers a spectrum of manners, character, generation and social attitudes, but the real interest in the story is the young women — gentle, charming observational vignettes of well-born Victorian females. In that sense, the plot, such as it is, is secondary to its appeal as a character study of the young woman of the day. Despite the deep involvement Yonge had with her faith and her church, the consecration is not described in any detail, a deliberate omission by her so as not to disrespect the sanctity of the process."
"‘Never think yourself safe because you do your duty in ninety-nine points; it is the hundredth which is to be the ground of your self-denial, which must evidence, or rather instance and realize, your faith.’ NEWMAN’S SERMONS"
"Ay, but he is not coming, he cannot get leave,’ said Elizabeth; ‘if he was, I should not mind it so much, but it is only Mrs. Hazleby and the girls, for she has the grace to bring Lucy, on Mamma’s special invitation. But only think of Mrs. Hazleby, scolding and snapping for ever; and Harriet, with her finery and folly and vulgarity. And that at a time which ought to be full of peace, and glorious feelings. Oh! they will spoil all the pleasure!’ ‘All?’ said Helen. ‘All that they can touch, all that depends upon sympathy,’ said Elizabeth."
"‘Mrs. Staunton used to say,’ replied Helen, ‘that people always ought to keep up their connexion with their relations, whether they like them or not. There were some very stupid people, relations of Mr. Staunton’s, near Dykelands, whom Fanny and Jane could not endure, but she used to ask them to dinner very often, and always made a point—’ ‘Well, if I had any disagreeable relations,’ said Elizabeth, ‘I would make a point of cutting them. I do not see why relations have a right to be disagreeable.’"
"‘I do not see how you could,’ said Helen. ‘For instance, would you prevent Mamma from ever seeing the Major, her own brother?’ ‘He cannot be half so well worth seeing since he chose to marry such a horrid wife,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Would you never see Horace again, if he did such a thing?’ said Katherine; ‘I am sure I would not give him up. Would you?’ ‘I could trust Horace, I think,’ said Elizabeth; ‘I will give him fair warning, and I give you and Helen warning, that if you marry odious people, I will have done with you.’"
"Sir Edward Merton was brother to Mr. Woodbourne’s first wife, the mother of Elizabeth, Katherine, and Helen;"
"‘Yes, Mamma,’ replied Anne; ‘I am rather surprised to hear that they are to be there. I should not think that a vulgar-minded Scotchwoman, such as Lizzie describes Mrs. Hazleby, would take much delight in a Consecration; but I suppose Uncle Woodbourne could not well avoid asking them on such an occasion, I believe she is rather touchy.’ ‘You must take care what you say to Lizzie about the Hazlebys,’ said Lady Merton; ‘a very little might make it appear that we wished to set her against her step-mother’s relations."
"‘I should fancy,’ said Lady Merton, ‘that Mrs. Woodbourne’s horror of her was almost equal to Lizzie’s.’"
"‘Kind gentle Aunt Mildred,’ said Anne, ‘do you think she ever had a horror of anyone?’ ‘It is certainly rather a strong word,’ said Lady Merton, ‘but you will allow me to say that she has a great dread of her; I think Mrs. Hazleby scolds and frightens her.’"
"Helen is very unlike the others in everything,’ said Anne. ‘Helen will be the handsomest as far as regularity of features goes,’ said Lady Merton. ‘Do you think so?’ said Anne. ‘Certainly,’ said Lady Merton; ‘her features are less prominent, and her colour has not that fixed hectic look that both the others have, especially Lizzie.’ ‘But she wants brightness and animation,’ said Anne, ‘and she so often looks dismal and fretful, that I cannot fancy admiring her.’ ‘There has never been much sympathy between you and Helen,’ said Lady Merton, smiling. ‘No,’ said Anne, ‘I never felt as if I knew or liked her. I believe Rupert and I were very unkind to her in our younger days; but, oh! she was the most tiresome whining child I ever knew.’"
The Woodbournes are getting ready for the new church. The father is a pastor and has three girl from his first marriage, Elizabeth, Katherine and Helen and he remarried after his wife's death. Lizzie is outspoken but not ill behaved and her best friend is her cousin, Anne Merton. Lord and Lady Merton have been helping with the church. They have a son named Rupert who teased Helen for whinning years ago and it has been awhile since the Mertons have seen Helen. The present Mrs. Woodbourne is kind but did not have a strong enough hand to help Helen. The Mertons and Mrs. Woodbourne's brother's family, the Hazlebys. Lizzie thinks her aunt Hazleby is vulgar, I wonder if uncouth is better word.
"Dorothea, the eldest, a quiet and considerate little maiden of seven years old, carried off Winifred and Edward to their own domains in the nursery. But as for Harriet, the eldest, and her mother’s darling, you will soon be sensible of some of her charms. I only hope she will not teaze the children into naughtiness, as she did last year. I do not
know what would be done if Horace was at home. One day he had a regular battle with her. It began of course in fun on both sides, but he soon grew angry, and at last tore her frock and trod pretty hard on her foot. I could not be sorry for her, she deserved it so completely; but then poor Horace had to be punished. And another time, she shut Dora up in a dark room, and really it did the poor little girl a great deal of harm; she could not sleep quietly for three nights after. Dora is old enough to take care of herself now; and Edward is quieter than Horace, which is a great comfort; but, oh! I wish the Hazlebys were forty miles off!’