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[epsilon-doc] there's

From: Lionel Downing
Subject: [epsilon-doc] there's
Date: Sat, 2 Sep 2006 12:43:58 +0200

Instead of letters posterity will have confessions, diaries,notebooks, like M.
So do I, but I cannot put much life into my hoping whenyou withhold the facts.
She was a born critic, and a critic whose judgments wereinborn, unhesitating.
She loves your parrot; shecommiserates your cat. Nevertheless, the play hasserved its purpose.
I bequeath freeleave of correction to the microscopic intellects of my continuators. She has a robustappetite; nothing shocks her; she gets nourishment from whatever is setbefore her.
There is thecorrespondence with Cole to prove it.
Friendship flourished, nor was there any lack of gift. Hence thecomedy was out of proportion to the rest. It was adeath that struck at Coles heart, too, but produced no such echo inthat robust organ.
QuartermainesMalvolio stand beside our Malvolio.
And Miss jeans as Viola wassatisfactory; and Mr. Indeed, there are pouchesunder them I could swear.
Then, perhaps, the actors weretoo highly charged with individuality or too incongruously cast.
I love antiquities, but I scarce ever knew an antiquary who knewhow to write upon them.
FeltonHervey, his two daughters and a favourite footman and add, I hope itis not true.
The play gainsimmensely in robustness, in solidity.
Their verses, their stories rise to herlips along with her own thoughts. Nevertheless, Cole was by no means without distresses of his own. Letus, then, concentrate for a moment upon the two main figures, in outline. Consider howsoon we shall both be nothing! As for the human beings they passthrough the same disenchantment. There is no record of anypainstaking or effort.
What, then, was lacking in the play as a whole? Satisfied with hislife in the flesh, he could be still more satisfied with his life in thespirit.
There is thecorrespondence with Cole to prove it.
A page in a great author humbles me to the dust, he wrote.
Against Colesmonolithic passion his own appears frivolous and flimsy.
To elicit them and relate them is out of the question. Nobody is very good, but thennobody is very bad.
QuartermainesMalvolio stand beside our Malvolio. For Horace Walpole was by temperament an amateur. And after deriding his contemporaries added, Dont think me scornful. Hence thecomedy was out of proportion to the rest.
She laughs at hisfoibles; knows his failings. Onlyone weekly newspaper, the CAMBRIDGE CHRONICLE, brought him news of thepresent moment.

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