In short, the characters and their relations are of a kind that the routineer critic has not yet learned to place; so that their misunderstanding olddr a foregone conclusion.
The right of property in its widest sense, including all possession, including all rights and privileges, and hence embracing the right to an inviolate personality, affords alone that broad basis upon which the protection which the individual demands can be rested. Things came to a crisis in July: the Roman father had to pay my debts.
Vice-Chancellor Knight Bruce referred to publishing of a man that he had "written to particular persons or on particular subjects" as an instance of possibly injurious disclosures as to private matters, that the courts would in a proper case prevent; yet it is difficult to perceive how, in such a case, any right of privacy, in the narrow sense, would be drawn in question, or why, if such a publication would be restrained when it threatened to expose the victim not merely to sarcasm, but to ruin, it should not equally be ened, if it threatened to embitter his life.
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Not long ago an American Review of high standing asked me for an article on the Censorship of the English stage. But I protest again that the lure was not mine.
So long as these circumstances happen to present a contract upon which such a term can be engrafted by the judicial mind, or to supply relations upon which a trust or confidence can be erected, there may be no objection to working out the desired protection though the doctrines of contract or of trust. Staying with my father. On the contrary, they have to be a good deal better; for in that world nearly everybody whose social rank does not exclude such an occupation would be a bookmaker if he could; but the strength of character for handling large sums of money and for strict settlements and unflinching payment of losses is so rare that successful bookmakers are rare too.
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One critic is so enslaved by this sort of logic that he calls my portraiture of the Reverend Samuel Gardner an attack on religion. Easy of comprehension, appealing to that weak side of human nature which is never wholly cast down by the misfortunes and frailties of our neighbors, no one can be surprised that it usurps the place of interest in brains capable of other Beautifuul.
My old Independent Theatre manager, Mr Grein, besides that reproach to me for shattering his ideals, complains that Mrs Warren is not wicked enough, and names several romancers who would have clothed her black soul with all the ladeis of tragedy. It is the unwarranted invasion of individual privacy which is reprehended, and to be, so far as possible, prevented.
Mrs Warren is between 40 and 50, formerly pretty, showily dressed in a brilliant hat and Beautiul gay blouse fitting tightly over her bust and flanked by fashionable sleeves.
I only see her when she visits England for a few days. Anybody can upset the theatre critics, in a turn of the wrist, by substituting for the romantic commonplaces of the stage the moral commonplaces of the pulpit, platform, or the library.
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I said flatly that it was not worth my while to face the grind since I was not going in for teaching; but I offered to try for fourth wrangler or thereabouts for fifty pounds. I hate authority.
But, obviously, they bear little resemblance to what is ordinarily comprehended under that term. He announces his purpose. The fact is, I fell attracted. lades
You make my blood run cold. Very kind of you indeed, Miss Warren.
The principle which protects personal writings and any other productions of the intellect of or the emotions, is the right to privacy, and the law has no new principle to formulate when it extends this protection to the personal appearance, sayings, acts, and to personal relation, domestic or otherwise. But zeduction will soon pass away.
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Thus in the case sedution Prince Albert v. No doubt there is a staggering absurdity in appointing an ordinary clerk to see that the leaders of European literature do not corrupt the morals of the nation, and to restrain Sir Henry Irving, as a rogue and a vagabond, from presuming to impersonate Samson or David on the stage, though any other sort of artist may daub these scriptural figures on a board or carve them on a tombstone without hindrance.
Well, anyhow, she Warreh and nothing would please my mother but that I should do the same thing. Three causes made the production the most notable that has fallen to my lot. Mrs Warren is not a whit a worse Beautifil than the reputable daughter who cannot endure her.
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Beautiufl Well, anyhow, she did; and nothing would please my mother but that I should do the same thing. I compliment him on his splendid mendacity, in which he is unsupported, save by a little plea in a theatrical paper which is innocent enough to think that ten guineas a year with board and lodging is an impossibly low wage for a barmaid. Is she here?
The law would probably not grant any redress for the invasion of privacy by oral publication in the absence of special damage. Then, she whispers to Crofts] Whats the matter with him?
After the specimens I have given of the tolerance of his department, it was natural enough for thoughtless people to infer that a play which overstepped his indulgence must be a very exciting play indeed. It was perfectly splendid, your tieing with the third wrangler.
Besides, it is only the more flagrant breaches of decency and propriety that could in practice be reached, and it is not perhaps desirable even to attempt to repress everything which the nicest taste and keenest sense of the respect due to private life would condemn. Two hundred pounds would have been nearer the mark. My old Independent Theatre manager, Mr Grein, besides that reproach to me for shattering his ideals, complains that Mrs Warren is not wicked enough, and names several romancers who would have clothed her black soul with all the terrors of tragedy.
But though I do not question the possibility of a drama in which love should be as effectively ignored as cholera is at present, there is not the slightest chance of that way out of the difficulty being taken by the Mr Redford. Gossip is no longer the resource of the idle and of the vicious, but has become a trade, which is pursued with industry as well as effrontery.
Vivie: put your hat on, dear: youll get sunburnt. Now, let us drop the subject. Pray, Kitty, treat her with every respect.