During the festivities surrounding the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare\u27s death, much was said about his Warwickshire roots, and commentators noted, not for the first time, his use of Warwickshire dialect. The same is frequently said about George Eliot, of course. A good example occurs early in Felix Holt, in the coachman\u27s words as he takes passengers up the hill past the village of Little Treby:
How many times in the year, as the coach rolled past the neglected-looking lodges which interrupted the screen of trees, and showed the river winding through a finely-timbered park, had the coachman answered the same questions, or told the same thing without being questioned! That? Oh, that was Transome Court, a place there had been a fine sight of lawsuits about. Generations back, the heir of the Transome name had bargained away the estate, and it fell to the Durfeys [ ... ]. But the Durfeys\u27 claim had been disputed over and over again; and [ ... ] the lawyers had found their luck in it. (emphasis added)\u27
\u27A fine sight\u27, in North Warwickshire parlance, means \u27a great many, or a multitude\u27. Growing up there myself, I often used to hear this as a child: \u27You\u27ll hear a sight more about it before I\u27m done with you!\u27 George Eliot\u27s recall of the language of her childhood is, as ever, spot-on
