The British Library, Historical Print EditionsThe British Library is the national library of the United Kingdom. It is one of the world's largest research libraries holding over 150 million items in all known languages and books, journals, newspapers, sound recordings, patents, maps, stamps, prints and much more. Its collections include around 14 million books, along with substantial additional collections of manuscripts and historical items dating back as far as 300 BC.The FICTION & PROSE LITERATURE collection includes books from the British Library digitised by Microsoft. The collection provides readers with a perspective of the world from some of the 18th and 19th century's most talented writers. Written for a range of audiences, these works are a treasure for any curious reader looking to see the world through the eyes of ages past. Beyond the main body of works the collection also includes song-books, comedy, and works of satire. ++++The below data was compiled from various identification fields in the bibliographic record of this title. This data is provided as an additional tool in helping to insure edition ++++ British Library Lytton, Edward George Early; Leask, William Keith; 1899.]. xxii. 428 p.; 8 . 012622.i.2.
Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton PC, was an English novelist, poet, playwright, and politician. Lord Lytton was a florid, popular writer of his day, who coined such phrases as "the great unwashed", "pursuit of the almighty dollar", "the pen is mightier than the sword", and the infamous incipit "It was a dark and stormy night."
He was the youngest son of General William Earle Bulwer of Heydon Hall and Wood Dalling, Norfolk and Elizabeth Barbara Lytton, daughter of Richard Warburton Lytton of Knebworth, Hertfordshire. He had two brothers, William Earle Lytton Bulwer (1799–1877) and Henry Bulwer, 1st Baron Dalling and Bulwer.
Lord Lytton's original surname was Bulwer, the names 'Earle' and 'Lytton' were middle names. On 20 February 1844 he assumed the name and arms of Lytton by royal licence and his surname then became 'Bulwer-Lytton'. His widowed mother had done the same in 1811. His brothers were always simply surnamed 'Bulwer'.
Over the past seven years, I have been reading by degrees the backlog of books I brought from Australia. I was able to purchase affordable classics by visiting book bazaars and I had the opportunity to read 19th century novels, so I jumped at the chance. Aside from the fact that his antique novels were affordable, I also felt challenged with the description of Bulwer-Lytton's works: his writing had been described as lengthy, abstruse, and ornate. After I finished The Disowned, I knew that each attempt to read Bulwer-Lytton would be a grind. Rather than be ground to a halt, however, I improvised reading his books this year by implementing a combination of scanning and reading: if I foresaw that he was going to expatiate on topics irrelevant to the furtherance of the story, I would blaze through that section or chapter. It has led me to grasp the pith of the story without being lost in the minutiae.
After reading The Last Days of Pompeii and Paul Clifford, I had become familiar with Bulwer-Lytton's flaws: he'd often use pages when a few words would do and creatively coin nonce words from Greek or Latin. To me, this novel was his best work because he injected light-hearted humor into his writing. While Paul Clifford was relevant at the time because of its attempts at social reform, this novel aged better because it provided more levity to the reader and had a more creative approach: critics more steeped in Victorian literature have noted of the similarities between this novel and Sterne's Tristram Shandy.
This is because this novel, like Sterne's, also transitions from exposition into a play, especially when important dialogue is concerned, and occasionally morphs into a dialectic. Its critique on the blind pursuit of chivalry and honor to the detriment of other important values such as filial love was also better written: this was shown in the struggle of Herbert de Caxton, who became the estranged son of Roland after he was found to work with scoundrels. Eventually, however, he redeems himself with Pisistratus, the protagonist, who in Australia was able to regenerate their diminished estates.
The same critique with Bulwer-Lytton's other novels applies here: this is a tale that could have been told in 200 pages or less. Many pages were spent to describe Sisty's pining for Fanny Trevanion, who followed her mother's footsteps by choosing "honor" over love. While Sisty would get over her after his stint in Australia, him marrying his cousin wasn't really the ending I was pining for. By focusing on his thesis of "honor above all," Bulwer-Lytton failed to provide a suitable end to Sisty's story and ended Herbert de Caxton's arc unnecessarily. Even though Roland was painted as understanding Herbert, Herbert still felt that he had to prove himself in war before he would be restored to his father's graces.
One laudable aspect of the novel, however, was Bulwer-Lytton's characterization of Uncle Jack, who was the novel's anti-villain. He's manipulative and adventurous, but he truly did not mean evil: he is the brother of Sisty's mother, and his speculations led to the loss of Sisty's education. He would nevertheless make up for it later in the novel and is rather Falstaffian than wicked.
Overall, while still suffering from unnecessary length, The Caxtons is Bulwer-Lytton's best work (from those that I've read) because of his lighter tone, creative storytelling, and social commentary. Even though it's still burdened by his overuse of nonce words (planeticose, exallotriote, neogilos, and the like), it's a much easier read. Nevertheless, I can still only recommend this book to those who are experienced readers of Victorian fiction who also wish to immerse themselves in more challenging writers.
‘The Caxtons: A Family Picture’ (1849) is precisely the pivot Edward Bulwer-Lytton intended: a genial, near-realistic series of vignettes following the maturation of Pisistratus Caxton. In the early chapters, young “Sisty” is portrayed as something of an ass—a frivolous, ‘Drones Club’ type of youth—but the canvas soon expands to include the titans of his world: Austin Caxton, the boy's scholarly father; Uncle Jack, the maternal scapegrace whose speculative manias threaten the family with ruin; and Roland Caxton, the gallant soldier who wears his Waterloo Medal as the enduring symbol of his integrity.
The plot meanders over a hundred chapters, tracing the lives and losses of the two brothers and the financial disaster that tests the family’s mettle. While the pace is leisurely, the work marks a significant evolution from Bulwer-Lytton’s earlier “silver fork" novels of high society, such as ‘Pelham’ and ‘Devereux.’ It also represents a stark retreat from his controversial "Newgate" crime novels; works like ‘Lucretia’—the tale of a young woman who abets a series of murderous attacks—had sparked a public outcry against the author for glamorising vice.
In ‘The Caxtons,’ Bulwer-Lytton turned toward a grounded, middle-class perspective. Centred on a family cheated of their life’s savings and far removed from the world of dukes and marchionesses, he created a delicate confection, part comedy, part tragedy, but entirely rooted in the textures of daily life. The narrative unfolds to reveal Sisty’s true development as he journeys to the Australian diggings to restore the family fortune. He returns not merely wealthy, but possessing a new moral heroism, evidenced by his thwarting of a scandalous elopement and his instrumental role in reconciling a fractured father and son.
While the characters are stylized, they are drawn with a warmth and depth that stand among Bulwer-Lytton's finest achievements. Though the early chapters strike a whimsical and humorous chord, there remains enough melodrama to satisfy even the most sensation-loving reader.