All this month, we've been featuring the writing of Charlotte Yonge. I've been making fun of Charlotte's writing for donkey's years, but the fact is: Charlotte was very popular in her day. So she must have done something right. What was it?

Well, we could argue about that all day, probably. Was it the fact that decorous romance was all the rage? In that case, we might think about the fact that these days, the romances are less decorous. Just think of Fifty Shades of Grey. More bodices get ripped, generally, and nobody seems too worried about the vicar's opinion.

But aside from subject matter, Charlotte was gifted in one respect. Check out the excerpt in this week's Post, and see if you can figure out what it is. We'll wait…

Yep. No matter how uninteresting you might find the story's premise – I mean, no detectives, serial killers, vampires, or high-finance types in evidence – the characters themselves speak naturally, and have perfectly natural reactions. They're what modern producers call (ouch) 'relatable'. You know where they're coming from.

Take this exchange:

'Yes, it really is!' cried Nuttie. 'We can't be too late? No – there's no bell! Aunt Ursel! What has brought you out? What's the matter? Where's mother?'


'In the house. My dear,' catching hold of her, and speaking breathlessly, 'I came out to prepare you. He is come – your father – '


'Where?' cried Nuttie, rather wildly.


'He is in the drawing-room with your mother. I said I would send you.' Poor Miss Headworth gasped with agitation. 'Oh! where's Mr. Dutton – not that anything can be done –'


'Is it that man?' asked Nuttie, and getting no answer, 'I know it is! Oh Aunt Ursel, how could you leave her with him? I must go and protect her. Gerard—come. No, go and fetch Mr. Dutton.'


'Hush! hush, Nuttie,' cried her aunt, grasping her. 'You know nothing about it. Wait here till I can tell you.'


'Come in here, dear Miss Headworth,' said Mary, gently drawing her arm into hers, for the poor old lady could hardly stand for trembling, and bidding Gerard open the door of her own house with the latch-key.


She took them into the dining-room, so as not to disturb her mother, sent Gerard off after Mr. Dutton in the very uttermost astonishment and bewilderment, and set Miss Headworth down in an easy-chair, where she recovered herself, under Mary's soothing care, enough to tell her story in spite of Nuttie's exclamations. 'Wait! wait, Nuttie! You mustn't burst in on them so! No, you need not be afraid. Don't be a silly child! He won't hurt her! Oh no! They are quite delighted to meet.'


'Delighted to meet?' said Nuttie, as if transfixed.


'Yes,' said her aunt. 'Oh yes, I always knew the poor child cared for him and tried to believe in him all along. He only had to say the word.'


'I wouldn't,' cried the girl, her eyes flashing. 'Why didn't you ask him how he could desert her and leave her?'


'My dear! how can one come between husband and wife? Oh, my poor Alice!'


'How was it, how did they meet, dear Miss Headworth?' asked Mary, administering the wine she had been pouring out.


'You hadn't been gone half an hour, Alice was reading to me, and I was just dozing, when in came Louisa. "A gentleman to see Mrs. Egremont," she said, and there he was just behind. We rose up – she did not know him at once, but he just said "Edda, my little Edda, sweeter than ever, I knew you at once," or something of that sort, and she gave one little cry of "I knew you would come," and sprang right into his arms. I – well, I meant to make him understand how he had treated her, but just as I began "Sir" – he came at me with his hand outstretched –'

'You didn't take it, aunt, I hope?' cried Nuttie.


'My dear, when you see him, you will know how impossible it is. He has that high-bred manner it is as if he were conferring a favour. "Miss Headworth, I conclude," said he, "a lady to whom I owe more than I can express." Just as if I had done it for his sake.' Miss Nugent felt this open expression dangerous on account of the daughter, and she looked her consternation at Mr. Dutton, who had quietly entered, ruthlessly shutting Gerard Godfrey out with only such a word of explanation as could be given on the way.

From Nuttie's Father

Yeah, yeah, nobody talks like that these days. Thank goodness. They're all 'I go, and he goes' and 'whatever' and such. But notice how well Charlotte motivates the characters' reactions, how she uses the dialogue to handle all this exposition. I imagine she played the scene out in her head until she got it right. Like a director blocking a stage: look, Nuttie goes here, she pours wine, her aunt sits down… You can see them, even if you don't really want to. It's real.

Now, technically, that's a skill we all need to develop. Especially because it pulls the reader in. It also avoids our having our ideas just tumble out like so much word salad. Set the scene, visualise it, and make sure everyone's in place, breathing in and out. Figure out who says what, and when.

Writing scenes like this can be tedious. And hazardous to your mental health, since those characters can get stuck in your head, playing that scene over and over till they get it right. (Dickens complained they distracted him in church.) But it pays off. In spite of ourselves, we actually want to know what Nuttie's eager to find out: why is her father there? What does he want? How's her mother going to react? Etc, etc, &tc, as they said back then.

See? Reading outdated literature may not be the worst habit you've ever picked up. There are techniques to be learned. And just think how much better that technique is going to play out in your work. After all, you've got something more interesting to say than 'Whatever will the vicar think?'

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

22.02.16 Front Page

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