The Rubicon
The Rubicon, written by E. F. Benson in the late 19th century, is a novel that delves into the complexities of social class and marriage in England. The story follows Eva Grampound as she navigates her feelings for Lord Hayes while contending with her controlling mother and societal expectations. The narrative highlights the tension between traditional values and modern sensibilities, showcasing Eva's internal struggles and desire for deeper meaning in her life. The character of the Professor of Ignorance serves as a reflective lens on themes of judgment and self-awareness throughout the novel.
Editions
X-Ray
“She subsided into a low chair and looked at Eva affectionately, or, at any rate, with an air of proud proprietorship.””
— E. F. Benson
“He was so refreshingly unversed in the ways of the world.””
— E. F. Benson
“It is always annoying, however modest an opinion we may have of ourselves, to be classed as a probable example to universal rule.””
— E. F. Benson
“Reggie, in spite of his frank charm, his susceptibility, his pretty face, his capacity for receiving and inspiring affection was, at heart, soulless.””
— E. F. Benson
“Love, like Janus of old is an two-headed god. On some he smiles, to others his eyes are full of strange, smouldering doubts, on his lips there is a smile that is half a smile that a half a sigh, that wakes at times a tumultous happiness, a bitter aching at others, and never brings content. That love may be more complex, more worthy of the agonised and questionings with where men and women have worshipped him, more deserving of the reproach, the longing, the dread, the reviling that has found its expression in bitter verses and heartbroken epigrams, but the simple, smiling face is there for some to see and those are blest who see it. Their love may be on a lower level, but it is very sweet, and lies among pleasant gardens and by melodious streams; for such there is no mountain top, compassed about by heaven; earth lies about them, not beneath then, and for then there is no painful climbing, no bleeding hands on panting breaths, and perhaps, at the top, nothing but clouds and cold, palpable mist.””
— E. F. Benson
“Tolerance, according to the old lady’s code, was the fruit of charity-Eva’s tolerance was the fruit of indifference.””
— E. F. Benson
“I supposed a stalwart chicken begins life in a stalwart egg.””
— E. F. Benson
