The class
of man represented by Vernon Whitford in THE EGOIST says, indeed,
the true thing, but he says it stockishly. Vernon is a noble
fellow, and makes, by the way, a noble and instructive contrast to
Daniel Deronda; his conduct is the conduct of a man of honour; but
we agree with him, against our consciences, when he remorsefully
considers "its astonishing dryness." He is the best of men, but
the best of women manage to combine all that and something more.
Their very faults assist them; they are helped even by the
falseness of their position in life. They can retire into the
fortified camp of the proprieties. They can touch a subject and
suppress it. The most adroit employ a somewhat elaborate reserve
as a means to be frank, much as they wear gloves when they shake
hands. But a man has the full responsibility of his freedom,
cannot evade a question, can scarce be silent without rudeness,
must answer for his words upon the moment, and is not seldom left
face to face with a damning choice, between the more or less
dishonourable wriggling of Deronda and the downright woodenness of
Vernon Whitford.
But the superiority of women is perpetually menaced; they do not
sit throned on infirmities like the old; they are suitors as well
as sovereigns; their vanity is engaged, their affections are too
apt to follow; and hence much of the talk between the sexes
degenerates into something unworthy of the name.
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