Essayists From England

"In literature, in art, in life, I think that the only conclusions worth coming to are one's own conclusions . If they march with the verdict of the connoisseurs , so much the better for the connoisseurs ; if they do not so march , so much the better for oneself."

"Good and beautiful things may easily be spoiled by suggestions of rights and duties"

"Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not so, Dark Angel! triumph over me: Lonely, unto the Lone I go; Divine, to the Divinity."

"For two hours he talked of Gallifet; Of Dowson; of the Rhymers' Club; Told me how Johnson (Lionel) died By falling from a high stool in a pub... But showed no trace of alcohol At the autopsy, privately performed— Tissue preserved—the pure mind Arose toward Newman as the whiskey warmed."

"Let those whose Hearts and Hands are strong Tell eager Tales of mighty Deeds; Enough if my sequestered song To hush'd and twilight Gardens leads! Clear Waters, drawn from secret Wells Perchance may fevered Lips assuage; The Tales an elder Pilgrim tells To such as go on Pilgrimage. Such the soft Path my Words would trace, Thus with the moving Waters move; So leave, across the Ocean's Face, A glimmering Stair to Hope and Love."

"I must consider," said Monica with a smile, "but one can't do these things offhand--that is worse than doing nothing. I'll tell you what to do NOW. Why not go and stay with Aunt Anne? She would like to see you, I know, and I have always thought it rather lazy of you not to go there--she is rather a remarkable woman, and it's a pretty country. Have you ever been there?"

"Johnson says, most judiciously, that the grand merit [of Cecilia] is in the general Power of the whole."

"It is clear enough, however, that the work of Miss Burney, the mother of English fiction, was not inspired by any single wish to redress a grievance: the richness of the human scene as Dr Burney's daughter had the chance of observing it provided a sufficient stimulus."

"Madame D'Arblay is, on the contrary, quite of the old school, a mere common observer of manners, and also a very woman. It is this last circumstance which forms the peculiarity of her writings, and distinguishes them from those masterpieces which I have before mentioned. She is a quick, lively, and accurate observer of persons and things; but she always looks at them with a consciousness of her sex, and in that point of view in which it is the particular business and interest of women to observe them. There is little in her works of passion or character, or even manners, in the most extended sense of the word, as implying the sum-total of our habits and pursuits; her forte is in describing the absurdities and affectations of external behaviour, or the manners of people in company. Her characters, which are ingenious caricatures, are, no doubt, distinctly marked, and well kept up; but they are slightly shaded, and exceedingly uniform. Her heroes and heroines, almost all of them, depend on the stock of a single phrase or sentiment, and have certain mottoes or devices by which they may always be known. They form such characters as people might be supposed to assume for a night at a masquerade. She presents, not the whole-length figure, nor even the face, but some prominent feature."

"Unused to the situations in which I find myself, and embarrassed by the slightest difficulties, I seldom, till too late, discover how I ought to act."

"Henry Fielding, too, would have been afraid of her: there is nothing so delicately finished in all of Harry Fieldings works as Evelina."

"Doctor Johnson returned home last night full of the praises of the book [Evelina] I had lent him; protesting there were passages in it that might do honour to Richardson. We talk of it for ever; and he, Doctor Johnson, feels ardent after the denouement. He could not get rid of the Rogue! he said. I then lent him the second volume, which he instantly read; and he is, even now, busy with the third... Sir Joshua Reynolds had been fed while reading the little work, from refusing to quit it at table! and that Edmund Burke had sat up a whole night to finish it!!!"

"Remember, my dear Evelina, nothing is so delicate as the reputation of a woman; it is at once the most beautiful and most brittle of all human things."

"It's writ by somebody that knows the top and the bottom, the highest and lowest of mankind—It's very good language, and there's an infinite deal of fun in it."

"he said, 'Madam—may I presume?'—and stopped, offering to take my hand. I...could scarce forbear laughing. 'Allow me, Madam,' continuing he, affectedly breaking off every half moment, 'the honour and happiness...the happiness and honor...'"

"Tired, ashamed, and mortified, I begged to sit down till we returned home, which I did soon after. Lord Orville did me the honour to hand me to the coach, talking all the way of the honour I had done him! O these fashionable people!"

"'No, Madam,' cried I, '—only—only I did not know that gentleman,—and so,—and so I thought—I intended—I—' Overpowered by all that had passed, I had not strength to make my mortifying explanation; — my spirits quite failed me, and I burst into tears."

"A private ball this was called...but Lord! my dear Sir, I believe I saw half the world!"

"A youthful mind is seldom totally free from ambition; to curb that, is the first step to contentment, since to diminish expectation is to increase enjoyment."

"it has been long and justly remarked, that folly has ever sought alliance with beauty."

"I am too inexperienced and ignorant to conduct myself with propriety in this town, where every thing is new to me, and many things are unaccountable and perplexing."

"I looked about for some of my acquaintance, but in vain, for I saw not one person that I knew, which is very odd, for all the world seemed there."

"I cannot be much pleased without an appearance of truth; at least of possibility — I wish the history to be natural though the sentiments are refined; and the characters to be probable, though their behaviour is excelling."

"To have some account of my thoughts, manners, acquaintance and actions, when the hour arrives in which time is more nimble than memory, is the reason which induces me to keep a journal: a journal in which I must confess my every thought, must open my whole heart!"

"Look at your [English] ladies of quality—are they not forever parting with their husbands—forfeiting their reputations—and is their life aught but dissipation? In common genteel life, indeed, you may now and then meet with very fine girls—who have politeness, sense and conversation—but these are few—and then look at your trademen's daughters—what are they?—poor creatures indeed! all pertness, imitation and folly."

"When once—which every body must be—you are convinced of the wickedness and deceit of men, it is impossible to preserve untainted your own innocence of heart. Experience will prove the depravity of mankind, and the conviction of it only serves to create distrust, suspicion—caution—and sometimes causelessly."

"To despise riches may, indeed, be philosophic; but to dispense them worthily must, surely, be more beneficial to mankind."

"Money is the source of the greatest vice, & that Nation which is most rich, is most wicked."

"I fight thee, in the Holy Name! Yet, what thou dost, is what God saith: Tempter! should I escape thy flame, Thou wilt have helped my soul from Death:The second Death, that never dies, That cannot die, when time is dead: Live Death, wherein the lost soul cries, Eternally uncomforted."

"Lionel Johnson was to be our critic, and above all our theologian, for he had been converted to Catholicism, and his orthdoxy, too learned to question, had accepted all that we did, and most of our plans. Historic Catholicism, with all its counsels and its dogmas, stirred his passion like the beauty of a mistress, and the unlearned parish priests who thought good literature or good criticism dangerous were in his eyes "all heretics.""

"He had the delicate strong features of a certain filleted head of a Greek athlete in the British Museum, an archaistic Graeco-Roman copy of a masterpiece of the fourth century, and that resemblance seemed symbolic of the austere nobility of his verse."

"Our wearier spirit faints, Vexed in the world‘s employ: His soul was of the saints; And art to him was joy."

"Even without stimulant his theology conceded nothing to human weakness, and I can remember his saying with energy, "I wish those people who deny the eternity of punishment could realise their unspeakable vulgarity.""

"Which are more full of fate: The stars; or those sad eyes? Which are more still and great: Those brows; or the dark skies?"

"King, tried in fires of woe! Men hunger for thy grace: And through the night I go, Loving thy mournful face. Yet, when the city sleeps; When all the cries are still: The stars and heavenly deeps Work out a perfect will."

"Vanquished in life, his death By beauty made amends: The passing of his breath Won his defeated ends."

"What comes now? The earth awaits What fierce wonder from the skies? Thunder, trampling through the night? Morning, with illustrious eyes? Morning, from the springs of light: Thunder, round Heaven's opening gates.."

"Imageries of dreams reveal a gracious age: Black armour, falling lace, and altar lights at morn. The courtesy of saints, their gentleness and scorn, Lights on an earth more fair, than shone from Plato's page: The courtesy of knights, fair calm and sacred rage: The courtesy of love, sorrow for love's sake borne. Vanished, those high conceits! Desolate and forlorn, We hunger against hope for the lost heritage."

"Ill times may be; she hath no thought of time: She reigns beside the waters yet in pride. Rude voices cry: but in her ears the chime Of full, sad bells brings back her old springtide. Like to a queen in pride of place, she wears The splendour of a crown in Radcliffe's dome. Well fare she, well! As perfect beauty fares; And those high places, that are beauty's home."

"The winds are sometimes sad to me, The starry spaces, full of fear; Mine is the sorrow on the sea, And mine the sigh of places drear. Some players upon plaintive strings Publish their wistfulness abroad; I have not spoken of these things, Save to one man, and unto God."

"Now from the broken tower, what solemn bell still tolls, Mourning what piteous death? Answer, O saddened souls! Who mourn the death of beauty and the death of grace."

"Johnson was stern by nature, strong by intellect, and always, I think, deliberately picked his company."

"Dark Angel, with thine aching lust To rid the world of penitence: Malicious Angel, who still dost My soul such subtile violence!"

"Alone he rides, alone, The fair and fatal king: Dark night is all his own, That strange and solemn thing."

"All the best stories in the world are but one story in reality — the story of an escape. It is the only thing which interests us all and at all times — how to escape."

"Life is a play acted by dying men, Where, if its heroes seem to foot it well And go light-tongued without grimace of pain, Death will be found anon. And who shall tell Which part was saddest, or in youth or age, When the tired actor stops and leaves the stage?"

"Dark to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens. Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars? Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city. A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain."

"Through thee, the gracious Muses turn, To Furies, O mine Enemy! And all the things of beauty burn With flames of evil ecstasy.Because of thee, the land of dreams Becomes a gathering place of fears: Until tormented slumber seems One vehemence of useless tears."

"Thou art the whisper in the gloom, The hinting tone, the haunting laugh: Thou art the adorner of my tomb, The minstrel of mine epitaph."

"The ardour of red flame is thine, And thine the steely soul of ice: Thou poisonest the fair design Of nature, with unfair device.Apples of ashes, golden bright; Waters of bitterness, how sweet! O banquet of a foul delight, Prepared by thee, dark Paraclete!"