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Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), chapter 3 (search)
forgot to throb with youthful love. This character,—which did actual fathers know how to be, they would fulfil the order of nature, and image Deity to their children,—Vandenhoff represented sufficiently, at least, to call up the beautiful ideal. Fanny Kemble. When in Boston, I saw the Kembles twice,— in Much ado about Nothing, and The Stranger. The first night I felt much disappointed in Miss K. In the gay parts a coquettish, courtly manner marred the wild mirth and wanton wit of Beatrice. Yet, in everything else, I liked her conception of the part; and where she urges Benedict to fight with Claudio, and where she reads Benedict's sonnet, she was admirable. But I received no more pleasure from Miss K.'s acting out the part than I have done in reading it, and this disappointed me. Neither did I laugh, but thought all the while of Miss K.,—how very graceful she was, and whether this and that way of rendering the part was just. I do not believe she has comic power within h
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing), VI. Jamaica Plain. (search)
Daphne Odora, the Provence Rose, the sweet-scented Verbena, and the Heliotrope; the latter being her chosen emblem, true bride of the sun that it is. From flowers she passed to engravings hanging round the room. Here, said she, are Dante and Beatrice. Approach, and know that I am Beatrice. The power of ancient love was strong within me. She is beautiful enough, is not she, for that higher moment? But Dante! Yet who could paint a Dante, —and Dante in heaven? They give buthis shadowBeatrice. The power of ancient love was strong within me. She is beautiful enough, is not she, for that higher moment? But Dante! Yet who could paint a Dante, —and Dante in heaven? They give buthis shadow, as he walked in the forest-maze of earth. Then here is the Madonna del Pesce; not divine, like the Foligno, not deeply maternal, like the Seggiola, not the beatified Mother of God of the Dresden gallery, but graceful, and not too bright and good for human nature's daily food. And here is Raphael himself, the young seer of beauty, with eyes softly contemplative, yet lit with central fires, &c. There were gems, too, and medallions and seals, to be examined, each enigmatical, and each blende