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From: | Rowland Dennis |
Subject: | [Gnobb-dev-savannah] bleed |
Date: | Sat, 16 Sep 2006 03:03:20 -0700 |
Slowly but surely the Earl of Killmallocks
great-granddaughterdescended in the social scale. One after another she createsher
fools, her prigs, her worldlings, her Mr. Then there was thebeautiful young woman in
the castle among the forests of Dauphiny. Thetea chest was secured, the garden gate
locked, and the bills leftunpaid.
What do you think George paid for his shirts,
sheasks?
She stimulates us to supply what is
notthere.
I wont, indeed, Sir, said I; so he opened a
Cabinet,and showed me a whole parcel of empty drawers.
Thus Laetitia is inthe great tradition of English
women of letters.
Jane Austen is thus a mistress of much deeper
emotion thanappears upon the surface. Shecould not throw herself whole-heartedly
into a romantic moment.
The poor man rushed on passionately,incoherently
about his son, his genius, his death. Edgeworth used to tell his children, every
dayof your life. Her little boywas allowed to roam the country like a poor mans son,
bare-legged,untaught. Hence our knowledge of Jane Austen is derived from a little
gossip,a few letters, and her books.
Run mad as often as youchuse, but do not
faint.
But what, in the name of wonder, werethose objects
in the middle of the grass plot?
Reading had played her false, butstill she could
write.
And whenever, to the end ofhis life, he thought of
Thomas Day, he fell silent.
Natureand its beauties she approached in a sidelong
way of her own. It is almost the only occasion upon which silence is recorded ofhim.
Then, red-faced, garrulous, inquisitive, inburst Richard Lovell Edgeworth. It is her
duty toentertain; it is her instinct to conceal.
Yet off she drove with him in his fine phaeton.
Pilkington, three volumes bound in one, printedby Peter Hoey in Dublin, MDCCLXXVI.
She was a Roman Catholic then, but why apenitent? Atonce our senses quicken; we are
possessed with the peculiarintensity which she alone can impart.
Delight strangely mingles with our amusement. Here
we perceive that she was no conjuror afterall.
She has neither arms nor legs;a footman carries her
in and out. I long to listen to the young-eyd cherubims!
She depicts a Mary Crawford in hermixture of good
and bad entirely by this means. But memories of great men are no infallible
specific.
She has neither arms nor legs;a footman carries her
in and out.
And why was the house in this state oflitter and
decay?
And whenever, to the end ofhis life, he thought of
Thomas Day, he fell silent.
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