What makes the dowager turn to brandy peaches in Maria Edgeworth’s Belinda? She’s just been soundly routed and unhorsed in a conversational joust with Mrs. Margaret Delacour, but she doesn’t stay down long…
The dowager consoled herself in her utmost need with a full plate of brandy peaches, and spoke not a word more during the second course. When the ladies retired after the dessert, she again commenced hostilities: she dared not come to open war with Mrs. Delacour; but in a by-battle, in a corner, she carried everything before her…
I’ve been delighted by the verbal fencing to be found in the literature of Britain’s Georgian and Regency era this month. The authors of the age set off periphrastic pyrotechnics in the witty exchanges of their characters as well as in their own descriptions, and there’s a leisured enjoyment of language and words and turns of phrase that’s hard to match - and then Maria Edgeworth throws in brandy peaches just to make you laugh!
Another Febregency is drawing to a close. I have made some more progress in some more Regency reads since my last update, so let’s wrap up the month…
Belinda by Maria Edgeworth
“Lord Delacour shall make inquiries for me. Lord Delacour shall make inquiries, did I say? —will, I should have said. If Chamfort had heard me, to what excellent account he might have turned that unlucky “shall”. What a nice grammarian a woman had need to be, who would live well with a husband inferior to her in understanding. With a superior or an equal, she might use “shall” and “will” as inaccurately as she pleases. Glorious privilege! How I shall envy it you, my dear Belinda. But how can you ever hope to enjoy it? Where is your superior? Where is your equal?”
Speaking of masters of conversation and confabulation, Lady Delacour stands out as one of the cleverest characters I have ever come across - her wit is described as “an elegant fire work, which we crowd to see, and cannot forbear to applaud” - but as she’s realizing in the above passage, sometimes her jibes outrun her better judgment. There’s another passage where overly-sharp wit is described as a concealed weapon that needs to be used with caution! Even if Lord Delacour isn’t quite up to his wife’s level in mental prowess, he does have a good heart, and it’s beautiful to see the two slowly emerge from their tangle of thoughtless living in Maria Edgeworth’s moral tale. I underlined so many different quotations, but here’s just one more word of advice about words and speaking from Lady Delacour…
“She has been so kind to me! I love her as if she were—”
“As if she were—what?—Finish your sentence.”
“My mother,” said Helena in a low voice, and she blushed.
“You love her as well as if she were her mother,” repeated Lady Delacour: “that is intelligible: speak intelligibly whatever you say, and never leave a sentence unfinished.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Nothing can be more ill-bred, nor more absurd, for it shows that you have the wish without the power to conceal your sentiments.”
Lady Delacour is the most dazzling interlocutor, but I also loved the character “Dr. X—” who was inspired by the eighteenth century Scottish physician and writer, Dr. John Moore. I have already added his novel Zeluco to my TBR for next Febregency (or maybe sooner!) - and it turns out that Zeluco inspired Lord Byron when he penned Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage.
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage by Lord Byron
Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven, If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires,—'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
All heaven and earth are still—though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep: — All heaven and earth are still: from the high host Of stars, to the lulled lake and mountain-coast, All is concentered in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being, and a sense
Bryon’s language just soars in Canto III when he’s describing the aching beauty of a starry night on Lake Leman. “Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt in solitude, where we are least alone; A truth which through our being then doth melt, And purifies from self.”
I remember My brother Athos read Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage during a family trip to Switzerland, and now I want to go back to Geneva and explore more of the surroundings of Lac Leman with Byron in hand! But my armchair travel this month hasn’t stopped in Switzerland…I’ve also been journeying across Ireland.
The Wild Irish Girl by Lady Morgan
I had previously sent my baggage, and was happily unincumbered with a servant, for the fastidious delicacy of Monsieur Laval would never have been adequate to the fatigues of a pedestrian tour through a country wild and mountainous as his own native Savoy. But to me every difficulty was an effort of some good genius chasing the demon of lethargy from the usurpations of my mind’s empire. Every obstacle that called for exertion was a temporary revival of latent energy; and every unforced effort worth an age of indolent indulgence.
Our hero can’t endure the jostling carriage and bad roads in the remote Connacht district of Ireland, so he decides to enjoy the last twenty miles of the journey on foot.
As I had previously learned my route, after a minute’s contemplation of the scene before me, I pursued my solitary ramble along a steep and trackless path, which wound gradually down towards a great lake, an almost miniature sea, that lay embosomed amidst those stupendous heights whose rugged forms, now bare, desolate, and barren, now clothed with yellow furze and creeping underwood, or crowned with misnic forests, appeared towering above my head in endless variety. The progress of the sun convinced me that mine must have been slow, as it was perpetually interrupted by pauses of curiosity and admiration, and by long and many lapses of thoughtful reverie; and fearing that I had lost my way (as I had not yet caught a view of the village, in which, seven miles distant from the spot where I had left the stage, I was assured I should find an excellent breakfast,) I ascended that part of the mountain where, on one of its vivid points, a something like a human habitation hung suspended…
Consider, if you will, the fact that the above passage is comprised in only two sentences - and also the fact that I cut it short - the second sentence continues for no fewer than twelve more lines. But Regency writing is so enjoyable for just that reason. Lady Morgan invites you to slowly and without haste savor all the different phrases and ideas that she wants to convey.
Maybe a trip back to Connacht with The Wild Irish Girl in hand is also in order, but this should be a fun read to finish up in the lead-up to St. Patrick’s Day. I heard about this book from Tristan, and I picked it up for Stephanie’s Febregency challenge to read a new-to-you Regency author.
The Unknown Ajax by Georgette Heyer
“I knew you’d make a champion wife, love!”
”On the contrary! My husband will live under the cat’s foot.”
”I’m very partial to cats.”
Many thanks to all of those who shared their favorite Georgette Heyer recommendations in the comments as I was planning my Febregency TBR. I started an audiobook of The Unknown Ajax to meet Christy’s challenge of reading historical fiction set in the Regency, and it has been sheer candy. The narrator’s British accent is fantastic, especially the Yorkshire broad he uses for the hero, Hugo. I think Georgette Heyer must have written with a glossary of esoteric Regency slang by her side, because she sprinkles quirky expressions into her story with a liberal hand - like “living under the cat’s foot.” I love it!
As far as my March reading plans go, I’m excited to buckle down to our Lenten readalong pick, The Long Loneliness by Dorothy Day, and also to reread The Little White Horse for our book club discussion. What have you been reading lately? Let me know down in the comments!
My Month in Books: February 2024