Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

“‘Oh, my lord,’ exclaimed I, ‘rise, I beseech you; rise.Surely your lordship is not so cruel as to mock me.’“‘Mock you!’ repeated he earnestly, ‘no, I revere you. Iesteem and admire you above all human beings! Youare the friend to whom my soul is attached, as to itsbetter half. You are the most amiable, the most perfectof women; and you are dearer to me than language hasthe power of telling.’“I attempt not to describe my sensations at that moment;I scarce breathed; I doubted if I existed; the bloodforsook my cheeks, and my feet refused to sustain me.Lord Orville hastily rising supported me to a chair uponwhich I sank almost lifeless.“I cannot write the scene that followed, though everyword is engraven on my heart; but his protestations,his expressions, were too flattering for repetition; norwould he, in spite of my repeated efforts to leave him,suffer me to escape; in short, my dear sir, I was notproof against his solicitations, and he drew from me themost sacred secret of my heart!”** Contrast this old perfumed, powdered D’Arblay conversationwith the present modern talk. If the two young people wished toRoundabout Papers250Other people may not much like this extract, madam,from your favorite novel, but when you come to read it,you will like it. I suspect that when you read that bookwhich you so love, you read it a deux. Did you not your-hide their emotions now-a-days, and express themselves inmodest language, the story would run:—“Whilst I was looking for the books, Lord Orville came in. Helooked uncommonly down in the mouth, as he said: ‘Is thistrue, Miss Anville; are you going to cut?’ “‘To absquatulate, LordOrville,’ said I, still pretending that I was looking for the books.“‘You are very quick about it,’ said he.“‘Guess it’s no great loss,’ I remarked, as cheerfully as I could.“‘You don’t think I’m chaffing?’ said Orville, with much emotion.“‘What has Mrs. Selwyn done with the books?’ I went on.“‘What, going’ said he, ‘and going for good? I wish I was sucha good-plucked one as you, Miss Anville,’” &c.The conversation, you perceive, might be easily written downto this key; and if the hero and heroine were modern, they wouldnot be suffered to go through their dialogue on stilts, but wouldconverse in the natural graceful way at present customary. Bythe way, what a strange custom that is in modern lady noveliststo make the men bully the women! In the time of Miss Porterand Madame D’Arblay, we have respect, profound bows andcurtsies, graceful courtesy, from men to women. In the time ofMiss Bronte, absolute rudeness. Is it true, mesdames, that youlike rudeness, and are pleased at being ill-used by men? I couldpoint to more than one lady novelist who so represents you.