There are ladies, who may be called men's women, being welcomed entirely by all the gentlemen, and cut or slighted by all their wives…. But while simple folks who are out of the world, or country people with a taste for the genteel, behold these ladies in their seeming glory in public places, or envy them from afar off, persons who are better instructed could inform them that these envied ladies have no more chance of establishing themselves in "Society," than the benighted squire's wife in Somersetshire, who reads of their doings in the Morning Post. Men living about town are aware of these awful truths. You hear how pitilessly many ladies of seeming rank and wealth are excluded from this "Society." The frantic efforts which they make to enter this circle, the meannesses to which they submit, the insults which they undergo, are matters of wonder to those who take human or woman kind for a study; and the pursuit of fashion under difficulties would be a fine theme for any very great person who had the wit, the leisure, and the knowledge of the English language necessary for the compiling of such a history.—Vanity Fair.
I can fancy nothing more cruel than to have to sit day after day with a dull handsome woman opposite; to answer her speeches about the weather, housekeeping, and what not…. Women go through this simpering and smiling life and bear it quite easily. Theirs is a life of hypocrisy. What good woman does not laugh at her husband's or father's jokes and stories time after time and would not laugh at breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he told them? Flattery is their nature,—to coax, flatter, and sweetly befool some one is every woman's business. She is none, if she declines this office.—The Newcomes.
He had placed himself at her feet so long that the poor little woman had been accustomed to trample upon him. She didn't wish to marry him, but she wished to keep him. She wished to give him nothing, but that he should give her all. It is a bargain not unfrequently levied in love.—Vanity Fair.
Every woman would rather be beautiful, than be anything else in the world,—ever so rich, or ever so good, or have all the gifts of the fairies.—The Virginians.
If a man is in grief, who cheers him; in trouble, who consoles him; in wrath, who soothes him; in joy, who makes him doubly happy; in prosperity, who rejoices; in disgrace, who backs him against the world, and dresses with gentle unguents and warm poultices the rankling wounds made by the stings and arrows of outrageous Fortune? Who but woman, if you please? You who are ill and sore from the buffets of Fate, have you one or two of these sweet physicians? Return thanks to the gods that they have left you so much of consolation. What gentleman is not more or less a Prometheus? Who has not his rock, his chain? But the sea-nymphs come,—the gentle, the sympathizing; … they do their blessed best to console us Titans; they don't turn their backs upon us after our overthrow.—The Virginians.
Is not a young mother one of the sweetest sights which life shows us? If she has been beautiful before, does not her present pure joy give a character of refinement and sacredness almost to her beauty, touch her sweet cheeks with fairer blushes, and impart I know not what serene brightness to her eyes?—The Newcomes.
This lady moved through the world quite regardless of all the comments that were made in her praise or disfavor. She did not seem to know that she was admired or hated for being so perfect, but went on calmly through life, saving her prayers, loving her family, helping her neighbors, and doing good.—Pendennis.
She had a fault of character which flawed her perfections. With the other sex perfectly tolerant and kindly, of her own she was invariably jealous; and a proof that she had this vice is, that though she would acknowledge a thousand faults that she had not, to which she had she could never be got to own.—Henry Esmond.
She was a critic, not by reason, but by feeling. Feeling was her reason.—Henry Esmond.
Her eyes were gray; her voice low and sweet: and her smile when it lighted up her face and eyes as beautiful as spring sunshine, also, they could brighten and flash often, and sometimes though rarely rain.—Pendennis.