"Not strange," said Clarendon, with a formal smile, "if your ladyship
will condescend to reflect. Most of the writers upon our little, great
world, have seen nothing of it: at most, they have been occasionally
admitted into the routs of the B.'s and C.'s, of the second, or rather
the third set. A very few are, it is true, gentlemen; but gentlemen, who
are not writers, are as bad as writers who are not gentlemen. In one
work, which, since it is popular, I will not name, there is a stiffness
and stiltedness in the dialogue and descriptions, perfectedly ridiculous.
The author makes his countesses always talking of their family, and his
earls always quoting the peerage. There is as much fuss about state, and
dignity, and pride, as if the greatest amongst us were not far too busy
with the petty affairs of the world to have time for such lofty vanities.
There is only one rule necessary for a clever writer who wishes to
delineate the beau monde. It is this: let him consider that 'dukes, and
lords, and noble princes,' eat, drink, talk, move, exactly the same as
any other class of civilized people--nay, the very subjects in
conversation are, for the most part, the same in all sets--only, perhaps,
they are somewhat more familiarly and easily treated than among the lower
orders, who fancy rank is distinguished by pomposity, and that state
affairs are discussed with the solemnity of a tragedy--that we are always
my lording and my ladying each other--that we ridicule commoners, and
curl our hair with Debrett's Peerage."

We all laughed at this speech, the truth of which we readily
acknowledged.

"Nothing," said Lady Dawton, "amuses me more, than to see the great
distinction novel writers make between the titled and the untitled; they
seem to be perfectly unaware, that a commoner, of ancient family and