Lussington Abbey. A novel. In two volumes. By Henrietta Rouviere
Author Details
Surname:Mosse
First Names:Henrietta Rouviere
Gender:Female
Anonymous:No
Publication Details
Publisher:Printed at the Minerva Press, for Lane, Newman, and Co. Leadenhall-Street.
Place:London
Date:1804
Novel Details
Genre:Courtship; Gothic
Setting:Wales
Period:Contemporary
Plot
A widowed Marchioness calls at a cottage for shelter, following an accident to her coach. The cottagers, 'respectable' poor Hubert and Phoebe (unmarried brother and sister) have taken in an orphan, Susan (her father died in battle, and her mother shortly after Susan's birth). Susan is unusually beautiful and graceful; Marchioness decides to take her in and educate her, seeing her potential. Marchioness's son's young travelling companion falls for Susan but she doesn't reciprocate. His obsessive passion for Susan leads to his being implicated in her later Gothic adventure, although all is resolved by the (happy) ending.
Overview of the Dialect
There is very heavily marked - and unusually represented - WELSH. Susan can speak Welsh. When first introduced, as cottagers' servant, she 'repeated in a few words of broad Welch, what her Ladyship had just told her' (vol 1, p 7). There is also a servant who has a longish speech represented in strongly marked Irish.
Unexpectedly nondialectal characters: Cottager, Phoebe, uses 'mayhap' but is otherwise non-dialectal, as is Hubert.
Unexpectedly nondialectal characters: Cottager, Phoebe, uses 'mayhap' but is otherwise non-dialectal, as is Hubert.
Speaker #1:Narrator (third person) - Individual
Individual or Group:Individual
Primary Identity:Narrator (third person)
Gender:Unknown
Age:Adult - unspecified age
Narrative Voice:3rd person
Role:Central
Dialect Features:Metalanguage
Social Role
Social Role Description:
Social Role Category:
Speaker's Origin
Place of Origin Description:
Place of Origin Category:Unspecified
Extract #1 dialect features: Metalanguage
Speakers: All , Narrator (third person)
The Countess spoke English so correctly (though with the gestures so peculiar to foreigners in her delivery), that, had not Lady Anne Molesworth's letters to the Duchess introduced her Ladyship as an Italian, it would have been a matter of doubt whether she was not born an English woman.
(Vol. 1,p. 167)Extract #2 dialect features: Metalanguage
Speakers: All , Narrator (third person)
The woman who entered with the Marchioness, and who appeared to be a kind of servant, repeated a few words of broad Welch.
(Vol. 1,p. 7)Speaker #2:Mary - Housemaid, cook and laundry maid to Hubert and Phoebe
Individual or Group:Individual
Primary Identity:Housemaid
Gender:Female
Age:Adult - unspecified age
Narrative Voice:3rd person
Role:Minor
Dialect Features:Discourse Marker, Grammar, Metalanguage, Orthographical Contraction, Orthographical Respelling
Social Role
Social Role Description:Housemaid, cook and laundry maid to Hubert and Phoebe
Social Role Category:Servant
Speaker's Origin
Place of Origin Description:Welsh
Place of Origin Category:Wales
"What a charming laty! " cried Mary as they drove off, looking at a couple of pieces of gold the Marchioness had slid into her hand, "ant how happy my sweet chilt vill pe with her."
"What a fine girl she's growing!" cried Phoebe.
"And what a nice muslin frock hur hat on," said Mary, "as fine as my fine caps hur prought me. Cot pless hur !" and she looked at them as they lay on the table; "see what a fine lace porter!" "She'll be a great beauty," added Phoebe, not minding Mary's fine caps.
"She'll be a good girl, I hope," said Hubert, "and that will be better."
" Poth is pest ," answered Mary. " Hur will pe marrit to some great Lort or Tuke , or some rich Squire, with a loat of money."
(Vol. 1,p. 96-7)"What a fine girl she's growing!" cried Phoebe.
"And what a nice muslin frock hur hat on," said Mary, "as fine as my fine caps hur prought me. Cot pless hur !" and she looked at them as they lay on the table; "see what a fine lace porter!" "She'll be a great beauty," added Phoebe, not minding Mary's fine caps.
"She'll be a good girl, I hope," said Hubert, "and that will be better."
" Poth is pest ," answered Mary. " Hur will pe marrit to some great Lort or Tuke , or some rich Squire, with a loat of money."
"And if hur dit co ," added she, " hur went out of the winder ; for hur fount the front toor polted when hur cot up."
(Vol. 1,p. 131)Extract #3 dialect features: Discourse Marker, Grammar, Metalanguage, Orthographical Contraction, Orthographical Respelling
" Who's tere , for te love of Cot, " said a female voice from the window, in a broad Welch accent.
"Damn you, open the door!" exclaimed the Marquis, all out of patience.
" Tam hurself ," replied the same voice; " ton't tam hur . Hur have no business here, tisturping people out of tere pets , wit tere tams ant tere plasfemes ."
"Damnation!" cried his Lordship, with passion; if you don't open the door this moment, I'll force it."
"Oh , hur may tam te nation if hur will," said she; "and tat is townrite plasfemy ! But if hur preak open te toor , hur will pe hangt , hur knows. So co , in Cot's name, pefore te tevil tempts hur and hur wicket crew."
(Vol. 1,p. 257)"Damn you, open the door!" exclaimed the Marquis, all out of patience.
" Tam hurself ," replied the same voice; " ton't tam hur . Hur have no business here, tisturping people out of tere pets , wit tere tams ant tere plasfemes ."
"Damnation!" cried his Lordship, with passion; if you don't open the door this moment, I'll force it."
"Oh , hur may tam te nation if hur will," said she; "and tat is townrite plasfemy ! But if hur preak open te toor , hur will pe hangt , hur knows. So co , in Cot's name, pefore te tevil tempts hur and hur wicket crew."
Extract #4 dialect features: Discourse Marker, Grammar, Orthographical Contraction, Orthographical Respelling
" Hur can't see Phoepe tonight," she replied again, putting her head out. " Ant if hur want Miss Hupert , hur must co to Lussington Nappy , for hur lives tere wit te Laty Norel ."
The marquis could not contain himself longer.
"Woman!" cried he, furiously, "dare you talk thus to me? I am the Marquis of Oriel, and I command you to open the door this instant!"
" O Cot ! be coot to hur ," exclaimed she, "here's a fine piece of pusiness ! Hur is coming, my Lort ; only if hur Lortship will wait till hur slip on hur cown , ant hur shoes, and till hur call to Phoepe . O tear ! hur pe in such a quantary ! Put are hur inteet te Lort Norel hur ownself ; pecause if hur pe not , hur will frighten hur out of hur tear plessed senses, and Cot knows hur has not any to spare."
(Vol. 1,p. 259)The marquis could not contain himself longer.
"Woman!" cried he, furiously, "dare you talk thus to me? I am the Marquis of Oriel, and I command you to open the door this instant!"
" O Cot ! be coot to hur ," exclaimed she, "here's a fine piece of pusiness ! Hur is coming, my Lort ; only if hur Lortship will wait till hur slip on hur cown , ant hur shoes, and till hur call to Phoepe . O tear ! hur pe in such a quantary ! Put are hur inteet te Lort Norel hur ownself ; pecause if hur pe not , hur will frighten hur out of hur tear plessed senses, and Cot knows hur has not any to spare."
" Oh te cootness of all cootness !" cried she; "if hur pe not Mr. William's ownself ; ant it must pe my Lort Norel inteet ! Hur will open te toor when hur can cet a cantle ."
[...]
" Oh no, my Lort ," replied she, " hur will pe fast asleep in hur pet , poor tere soul!"
[...]
"Sure hur told hur before hur was not here," answered she. "Miss Hupert at the Nappy , with her tear coot Laty ."
[...]
" Oh tear, what would pring her here tonight!" cried she, with a look of surprise. "Why hur never comes to see Phoepe put in the month of Octoper , and May, or June, or tereapouts ."
(Vol. 1,p. 260-2)[...]
" Oh no, my Lort ," replied she, " hur will pe fast asleep in hur pet , poor tere soul!"
[...]
"Sure hur told hur before hur was not here," answered she. "Miss Hupert at the Nappy , with her tear coot Laty ."
[...]
" Oh tear, what would pring her here tonight!" cried she, with a look of surprise. "Why hur never comes to see Phoepe put in the month of Octoper , and May, or June, or tereapouts ."
Speaker #3:Driver - Driver / servant
Individual or Group:Individual
Primary Identity:Driver
Gender:Male
Age:Adult - unspecified age
Narrative Voice:3rd person
Role:Peripheral
Dialect Features:Discourse Marker, Grammar, Idiom, Metalanguage, Orthographical Contraction, Orthographical Respelling, Vocabulary
Social Role
Social Role Description:Driver / servant
Social Role Category:Servant
Speaker's Origin
Place of Origin Description:Irish
Place of Origin Category:Ireland
Extract #1 dialect features: Discourse Marker, Grammar, Idiom, Metalanguage, Orthographical Contraction, Orthographical Respelling, Vocabulary
The fellow was an Irishman; and in the true style of his country, he delivered his story.
"As it was of no consiquince at all, at all, what diriction we tuck , your Honours," began the servant, " purvided we tuck the right one, the min that was widh us, and myself, sit off jig by jowl togidther in a body and wint diffirint ways acrass the country. I wint alone by mysilf with Lloyd, your Honour's tinant , as clane a young fellow as there's in the country saving your prifrance , let the t'other be who he may; so, as I was saying, off we wint , and niver cracked cry, till we found ourselves, more by chance nor good look , by the say-side , at a place they calls Pimbrook, I thinks , a great wide, barrin spot, for all the world, your Honours, like the bog of Allin, in my place there beyant . Sweet little Ireland! Musha , the Lord prospir it!"
(Vol. 1,p. 296)"As it was of no consiquince at all, at all, what diriction we tuck , your Honours," began the servant, " purvided we tuck the right one, the min that was widh us, and myself, sit off jig by jowl togidther in a body and wint diffirint ways acrass the country. I wint alone by mysilf with Lloyd, your Honour's tinant , as clane a young fellow as there's in the country saving your prifrance , let the t'other be who he may; so, as I was saying, off we wint , and niver cracked cry, till we found ourselves, more by chance nor good look , by the say-side , at a place they calls Pimbrook, I thinks , a great wide, barrin spot, for all the world, your Honours, like the bog of Allin, in my place there beyant . Sweet little Ireland! Musha , the Lord prospir it!"