Memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph: Extracted from her own Journal, and now first publishedSheridan, Frances Chamberlaine
General
Memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph: Extracted from her own Journal, and now first published
Sheridan, Frances Chamberlaine
English fiction -- 18th century
Now, now, my Cecilia, I can gratify your curiosity at full: he is come
at last; Mr Faulkland, I mean; Orlando is come! we had a message from
him this morning, to enquire after all our healths; he was just arrived
at his house in the Square: Sir George flew to him directly, and said he
would bring him without ceremony to take a family dinner. My mother bid
him do so; and she held a quarter of an hour's conference with her cook.
She is always elegant and exact at her table; but we were more than
ordinarily so to-day. My brother brought Mr Faulkland a little before
dinner-time, and presented him to my mother and me, with that kind of
freedom that almost look'd as if he were already one of the family.
We had both been prepossessed highly in favour of his figure, a
circumstance that seldom is of advantage to persons on their first
appearance: but here it had not that effect: Sir George did not overrate
the personal accomplishments of his friend. Now you'll expect I should
describe him to you, perhaps, and paint this romantic hero in the
glowing colours of romantic exageration. But I'll disappoint you--and
tell you, that he is neither like an Adonis nor an Apollo--that he has
no hyacinthine curls flowing down his back; no eyes like suns, whose
brightness and majesty strike the beholders dumb; nor, in short, no rays
of divinity about him; yet he is the handsomest mortal man that I ever
saw.--I will not say that his voice is harmony itself, and that all the
loves and graces (for why should not there be male as well as female
graces?) attend on his motions; that Minerva presides over his lips, and
every feature has its attendant Cupid--But I will acknowlege that his
voice in speaking is inexpressibly pleasing (you know how I admire an
agreeable voice); that his air and motions are easy, genteel, and
graceful; his conversation sensible and polite, and without the least
tincture of affection, that thing, which of all others, would to _me_
destroy the charms of an angel.--In short, without hyperbole, that he
is, what every one must allow, a perfectly handsome and accomplished
young man.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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