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Prose Fancies By: Richard Le Gallienne (1866-1947) |
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PROSE FANCIES BY
RICHARD LE GALLIENNE WITH A LITHOGRAPHED PORTRAIT
OF THE AUTHOR BY R. WILSON STEER [Illustration] LONDON
ELKIN MATHEWS & JOHN LANE
G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK
1894
TO
MY DEAR WIFE
MY PROSE FOR HER POETRY
IN MEMORY OF TWO HAPPY YEARS
OCTOBER 22, 1891
DECEMBER 6
1893
CONTENTS
A SPRING MORNING
A CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE
LIFE IN INVERTED COMMAS
FRACTIONAL HUMANITY
THE WOMAN'S HALF PROFITS
GOOD BISHOP VALENTINE
IRRELEVANT PEOPLE
THE DEVILS ON THE NEEDLE
POETS AND PUBLISHERS
APOLLO'S MARKET
THE 'GENIUS' SUPERSTITION
A BORROWED SOVEREIGN
ANARCHY IN A LIBRARY
THE PHILOSOPHY OF 'LIMITED EDITIONS'
A PLEA FOR THE OLD PLAYGOER
THE MEASURE OF A MAN
THE BLESSEDNESS OF WOMAN
VIRAGOES OF THE BRAIN
THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
TRANSFERABLE LIVES
THE APPARITION OF YOUTH
THE PATHETIC FLOURISH
A TAVERN NIGHT
SANDRA BELLONI'S PINEWOOD
WHITE SOUL
NOTE The reader will, doubtless, feel the greater confidence
in the following essays, from the fact that they have
already passed their first and second readings
through the hands of the editors and subscribers
of The Speaker , The Star , The Illustrated London
News , and The Sketch . To the several editors of
these papers I am indebted for their kind permission
to reprint, and I take this opportunity of expressing
my thanks to Mr. CLEMENT SHORTER for many
other kindnesses. I venture also particularly to
thank my friend Mr. T.P. GILL but for whose
kind incitement many of the following
'Fancies' had not been written at all.
PROSE FANCIES
A SPRING MORNING I
Spring puts the old pipe to his lips and blows a note or two. At the
sound, little thrills pass across the wintry meadows. The bushes are
dotted with innumerable tiny sparks of green, that will soon set fire to
the whole hedgerow; here and there they have gone so far as those little
tufts which the children call 'bread and cheese.' A gentle change is
coming over the grim avenue of the elms yonder. They won't relent so far
as to admit buds, but there is an unmistakable bloom upon them, like the
promise of a smile. The rooks have known it for some weeks, and already
their Jews' market is in full caw. The more complaisant chestnut dandles
its sticky knobs. Soon they will be brussels sprouts, and then they will
shake open their fairy umbrellas. So says a child of my acquaintance. The
water lilies already poke their green scrolls above the surface of the
pond; a few buttercups venture into the meadows, but daisies are still
precious as asparagus. The air is warm as your love's cheek, golden as
canary. It is all a clink and a glitter, it trills and chirps on every
hand. Somewhere close by, but unseen, a young man is whistling at his
work; and, putting your ear to the ground, you shall hear how the earth
beneath is alive with a million little beating hearts. C'est l'heure
exquise. Presently along the road comes slowly, and at times erratically, a
charming procession. Following the fashion, or even setting it, three
weeks since yon old sow budded. From her side, recalling the Trojan horse,
sprang suddenly a little company of black and tan piglets, fully legged
and snouted for the battle of life. She is taking them with her to put
them to school at a farm two or three miles away. So I understand her.
They surround her in a compact body, ever moving and poking and
squeaking, yet all keeping together. As they advance slowly, she towering
above her tiny bodyguard, one thinks of Gulliver moving through Lilliput;
and there is a touch of solemnity in the procession which recalls a mighty
Indian idol being carried through the streets, with people thronging about
its feet. How delicately she steps, lest she hurt one of the little limbs!
And, meanwhile, mark the driver for though the old pig pretends to ignore
any such coercion, as men believe in free will, yet there is a fate, a
driver, to this idyllic domestic company. But how gentle is he too! He
never lets it be seen that he is driving them. He carries a little switch,
rather, it would appear, for form's sake; for he seldom does more with it
than tickle the gravely striding posteriors of the quaint little people... Continue reading book >>
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