ENGLISH PORTRAITS AND ESSAYS but not mythic unmet, perhaps never to be met a representative figure, yet not a public one punctual, yet unhurried capable of reasons, yet wisely withholding them patient though pursued, faint yet pursuing silent, an unknown writer as well as unknown editor, subduing himself to his contributors and so subduing them to himself a badger, noblest of English beasts. I cannot name him, his name is Legion. Features of his show in others looks, his kindness and forbearance appear in their mortal ...
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ENGLISH PORTRAITS AND ESSAYS but not mythic unmet, perhaps never to be met a representative figure, yet not a public one punctual, yet unhurried capable of reasons, yet wisely withholding them patient though pursued, faint yet pursuing silent, an unknown writer as well as unknown editor, subduing himself to his contributors and so subduing them to himself a badger, noblest of English beasts. I cannot name him, his name is Legion. Features of his show in others looks, his kindness and forbearance appear in their mortal manners I see him in their impulses but not in their misgivings, in their loyalties but not in their timidities. I am full of gratitude to him, to them, and if an all but unknown contributor may record particulars I will add that the following essays owe their first appearance to the editors of The Quarterly Review, The London Mercury, and The Bookman. I A CANTERBURY PILGRIM I A CANTERBURY PILGRIM for was he not among those that set out in showery April from Southwark at the Tabard, though unaccountably missed by Chaucer in his catalogue of pilgrims He rode an ass, amusing the others by the contrast of his cheerful bulk swaying over the waggish ears, with the thin strong corpse of the pathetic beast, but amusing himself most of all. Sometimes he or the ass urged forward, some times strayed to the rear, but most often he was to be found talking to the Franklin and the liveried Haberdasher, Carpenter, and the rest, or shouting at the som-del deef Wife of Bath yet not always talking or shouting, but at whiles listening and then letting his head fall into thoughtfulness equally brief. Often had he dreamed of such a pilgrimage, for, like many townsmen, he hated the town becausehe feared it, and dreams are born of fears. In a vision of the future he had seen, clearly and painfully, great cities scurfing the land, grey obscure blotches on the green, black islands on every river, smoking and increasing clouds at every port and in all these cities men huddled together, no longer eager to escape but contented to dwell in them and breed in them and die in yet larger cities than they were born in, if only their homes might be made a little more comfortable, the sense of insecurity diminished, and hunger removed a thought farther away. That vision a recurring vision like the fear of insanity and that vision alone had power to sadden him, for although he was nearing fifty he still wondered equally at mens failure to obey their impulses and the failure to follow their reason and so before he had ridden a mile from London he found himself suddenly shaken from dismal thoughts by the voice of the Franklin and only then realised that he had been wandering. He answered the Franklin with a smile and returned jest for jest as they all moved slowly and disorderly forward. But of the talk that took place I do not now intend to speak some of it is written in The Canterbury Tales, and what is lost will never be recovered now. An obstinate fate kept him apart from that silent pilgrim of elvish countenance who at the bidding of the seemly host began the Tale of Sir Thopas and the same fate deprived us of the tale told by our friend as he hung over the slender spine of his ass. It was a merry story of unreasonable nonsense, at which the choleric Reeve scoffed, the Clerk listened in critic wise thinking he had heard parts of it before but never so fantastically told, and the Wife ofBath and various others chuckled. It is a lost tale, but I would rather recover it than much else that was said on this mirthfully pious pilgrimage...
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Seller's Description:
PLEASE NOTE, WE DO NOT SHIP TO DENMARK. New Book. Shipped from UK in 4 to 14 days. Established seller since 2000. Please note we cannot offer an expedited shipping service from the UK.
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Seller's Description:
PLEASE NOTE, WE DO NOT SHIP TO DENMARK. New Book. Shipped from UK in 4 to 14 days. Established seller since 2000. Please note we cannot offer an expedited shipping service from the UK.
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Seller's Description:
First Edition. Hardback. Dust Jacket. 8vo. pp 244. Original publisher's red cloth, lettered gilt at the spine. Faint foxing to preliminaries, otherwise near fine in very good indeed dust jacket. Exceptional condition.
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Very Good/Good. 8vo-over 7¾"-9¾" tall Dark red bds with gilt title to spine. Light bump/rub to spine ends. Inscription to ffep. Bindings tight. Foxing. Dustjacket with sunning to edges and spine, rubbing to jacket edges, minimal losses to jacket corners, chipping to top jacket spine end and partial loss to bottom jacket spine end. A little light patchy soiling to jacket.
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Good. First edition. Blind-stamped red cloth with gilt-stamped spine title. Owner's name neatly penned on front fly, gutter starting, spine ends frayed and corners lightly rubbed and bumped, a good only copy, lacking the scarce dustwrapper. Containing: "A Canterbury Pilgrim", Robert Louis Stevenson, William Cobbett, Walter De La Mare, Maurice Hewlett, Edmund Gosse, Coventry Patmore, Compton Mackenzie, "The English Essayist."
