Indeed, the whole fabric seems to rock alittle
insecurely. Yet we have to remind ourselves that thefault may be ours.
Death, oblivion, and rest lap round your songs with
theirdark wave. Let us breathe theair of the Enchanted Island! The thought
endureswhen the feeling has gone. On noneof his successors is his influence now
marked. The writer has dined upon lentils; he gets up at five; hewalks across
London; he finds Mr. No, the general conclusion would seem to be, Meredith has not
wornwell. We know Gissing thus as we do not know Hardy or George Eliot. Smith Elders
readersummed up the situation tersely enough. The master of language wassplashing
and diving in his element of words.
The writer has dined upon lentils; he gets up at
five; hewalks across London; he finds Mr. Thusthe attempt to pronounce a finished
estimate is even more illusivethan usual. Poetry, theysay, has nothing to do with
life.
Yearsafterwards another, and it seems better
founded, prospect ofhappiness presented itself. Her belief regulated her life in the
smallestparticulars. We have to reckon with the author himself. So one might go on
looking and listening for ever. Though no woman everloved a man more deeply, she
would not be the wife of a sceptic.
His is one of thosesharp lights beyond whose edges
all is vapour and phantom.
Her belief regulated her life in the
smallestparticulars.
Yet here, too, there are gaps in plenty, and many
dark places leftunlit. That is a description of a state of mind.
Thus Meredith deserves our gratitude and excites
ourinterest as a great innovator. Yet here, too, there are gaps in plenty, and many
dark places leftunlit.
He would rush off to school with asharp herring
bone in his throat for fear of missing his lesson.
His fame as a talker is necessarilydimmed, and his
fame as a writer seems also under a cloud. Nothing soft,otiose, irrelevant cumbered
your pages. Her belief regulated her life in the smallestparticulars.
It did not much matter, perhaps, whether his
audiencewas cultivated or simple. Scene after scene rises on the minds eye with a
flareof fiery intensity. In that lies much of his interest for us.
He imaginesus capable of disinterested curiosity in
the behaviour of our kind.
Golden lie the meadows; golden runthe streams; red
gold is on the pine stems. They are thusdifferently poised from the majority of
fictitious men and women. But things change; class distinctions were not always so
hard andfast as they have now become.