I’ve an Enquiry to make of the most Eloquent and Humble Editor, should he wish to address it. I wish to acquire the secrets of your Brilliant and Magniloquent writing, and would be absolutely chuffed were you to Comprise a miniature list pertaining to the finer points of Perfecting the 18th century style of chirography. – Yours, a Fervent Admirer.

georgiansuggestion:

Charming Reader–

You flatter me to Excess! I, of such Generous and Amiable Temperament, could hardly refuse such a favourably-put Request.

The Primary, and in my Own Opinion, Finest Means of perfecting one’s Style is Immersion, or more feasibly, Sampling of the Works of Our Times. These can be readily found, and one can peruse the Corpus of Pope, Austen, Radcliffe, Swift, Shelley, Wollstonecraft, et. al with Ease and in the Tranquillity of one’s Home. One would also be Well-Served in seeking out a Multiplicitous Array of works; not merely those Academic, Literary, and Refined, but the Journals, Letters, and Account-books which are the Breath of Daily Life; this is perhaps more difficult.

Barring such Endeavour, one may begin with the following Principles:

  • Emphasis, when appropriate, of Nouns, Adjectives, and Adverbs. consider whether that gentleman carries himself lamentably, or whether that Gentleman carries himself Lamentably.
  • Gentility in referring to Persons of one’s Acquaintance; the Lady G– perhaps earns more Discretion than one’s bootblack T-m D-gb-
  • Never living in Apprehension of having spoken too long, or with too much Verbosity, to be Understood; one must have Faith one’s Reader is of a Mind, if not the Very Same, then of Equal Reason, Dexterity, and Enlightenment–a Peer in Every Regard–and Able, thus Willing, to follow one’s Winding Thoughts as a Cheerful and Tree-lined Path, full of Greenery in the Height of Summer, when Nature is her Fairest; and if they are not, to never let it Trouble you, nor fill your pen with Hesitation.

rueplumex:

me filling out a dating questionnaire:  woman seeking woman.  preferably one who regularly disguises herself as a highwayman, rides a majestic dark horse, wears a tricorne hat, only robs rich buffoons and shares her spoils with the local poor. is willing to duel for my honour as a lady despite her own status as a rogue. who will ravish me far better than my betrothed, childhood friend mr. matthews, who owns the estate nearby to my own and with whom my family sees a prosperous match in marriage.  a woman who (while still scandalously clad in breeches) will confess on the hangman’s platform that i was her greatest love and her only regret was not taking me away from this city and life. who was only caught because she was trying to protect me when we fled the city one night, who accepts her inevitable fate with bravery until i sweep in and rescue her from her death sentence.  i do so, brandishing a fancy pistol she taught me to shoot (in the forest, with her arms unnecessarily wrapped around me in demonstration) while riding the aforementioned majestic horse. we ride off into the sunset.  we make out on the horse.  the horse is okay with it like we give him an apple or something

in this situation, i get to wear a ballgown that accentuates my often heaving déccoletage, and faint no less than three times in the duration of our narrative 

thanks in advance